Remove ads

Northern Winds

Reader mode
[X] Offer your blood to the voice

Blood magic is always fun! Let's get it on
 
TheCrownedVassal said:
Btw, is there a trick to transliterating the runic speak, or are we supposed to not understand it? I know, it's a bit late to ask^^
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

So far I think that these are just norse runes for what google translate determines to be Icelandic language. But there are some words that it can't translate so I'm not sure.

One of the phrases that was spoken in the latest update roughly translates as "It is a single-minded *something* that holds your brain."
 
Last edited:
Remove ads
Chapter 8 - ᛟᚢᚹᛇᚾᛏ ᚺᛃᚨᚢᛚᛈ
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Offer your blood to the voice.
    ᛟᚢᚹᛇᚾᛏ ᚺᛃᚨᚢᛚᛈ
    Chapter 8​

    Not waiting a moment, you raised your hand, blood still slowly flowing from your cuts. Should you have hesitated? Should you have thought it over? There was no telling what that voice was. Was it wise to offer your own blood so freely? But it had asked, not demanded. It wanted help. Help that it had given you. And no matter what it was that spoke to you, it had helped you. It had driven away the malice lurking in the darkness. Somehow.

    Your body moved on its own, knowing what it had to do while your mind still reeled from the shock. With a light touch, the tips of you fingers came to rest on something hard, covered in rough spun cloth. But as you blood began to seep into it, you began to see. Nothing else you could make out in the pitch black, not even your own hand, just that round thing in the weathered jute bag beneath your fingers. It was the same clarity with which the voice had spoken. A certainty that made it seem more real than even yourself.

    Slowly the blood began to flow down the curve of whatever it was, leaving patterns on the cloth that seemed to hint at what was beneath. It smelled strange. Of mint and aconite, with a trace of fresh cut yarrow. Why did it smell? Nothing in this cellar had been smelling of anything except mildew and dust. Certainly not like fresh herbs.

    "Ah, what a lovely gift you give me," the voice spoke, cutting off your thoughts and sending your heart racing again. "How have I earned such kindness?"

    You worked your jaw, trying to find words. Any words. "What are you?" It came out almost like a croak, your throat dry and raw. Had you screamed earlier? You had not made a sound, but it seems you had tried your best anyway.

    "Now, that is a rude way to ask such things, good woman. Would it not be more polite to give me, who speaks with you, the benefit of assuming that behind a voice is a who instead of a what?" The voice trailed off into a chuckle then, leaving you just more bewildered at what you had stumbled upon.

    Intently you focused your attention at the two dark blotches your blood had made on the front of the thing as if they were eyes. The voice had to be in the thing you were holding. Could it see you too? "Then, who are you?" Deeper and deeper the blood ran on the shape, making you wonder how much you had bled already. Should you have worried? It seemed to be a lot of blood indeed, but you did not feel ill for losing it.

    There was silence for a while, before the voice spoke in a quieter, sadder tone. "I am afraid, good woman, that I can not tell you. See, my memory is not the best, so while I can say that I am a who, I am not quite sure who myself." Then it chuckled again before continuing. "You can call me Mimir for now. It is a joke. A good one, if I may say so." You did not laugh though, so he might have been mistaken there.

    By now the blood had formed another shape, beneath the blotches that looked almost like eyes and this one seemed to be a bright and sunny smile, inked in dark red onto the cloth. "You are a skull," you could not help to blurt out at the realization. "A talking skull. Who speaks Imperial of all things?" Something was welling up in you and it was not fear, but it seemed close kin to it none the less. Why had you decided to come to this cellar?

    The skull seemed not to notice though, speaking on as if it were the most normal thing for it to do so. "No, I speak no mortal tongue. The dead speak no language save their own. One that is understood by all and yet remains unheard. Of course, there are ways to make it heard none the less"

    "But you spoke Norse just a moment ago. I understood not a single word of it, but it drove the other thing away."

    "Well, that would explain why you so politely share your blood with me while I do not recall the reason for it. My memory, you see, is not the best and the Norns take ill to being told what to do at the best of times, let alone when one such as I is ordering them around."

    You had heard the name 'Norn' before, but you could not recall when, just that it was some thing in the Northmens faith. "Was that a Norn then? The other thing?"

    "Speak not idly about that which lingers here." For once, the cheer was gone from the skulls voice, making him sound like Nechtan when he gave orders that had to be followed to the letter. "It has been gone for a while, that I remember, but this place is still tainted by its presence. A remnant accosted you, am I right? And I banished it?"

    Hearing the thing called a remnant was not reassuring. "Yes, I think so. But…"

    "No. I can explain another time if you insist. Know for now that it is old and cruel in the truest sense of these words and that if you draw its attention again, you will be on your own against it. We should not linger in this place." He paused again to let his words sink in, then spoke quieter, as if worried that he was being overheard. "Perhaps it is the reason that my memory is not the best. I think I once knew something that would make me think so at least."

    It was not that you did not wish to leave the cellar. In fact, you could scarcely remember ever having wanted anything as much as leaving it right now, the only stronger desire having been the same, but in regards to the thrice-cursed ship that brought you to these lands. But there was still the problem of light. "I would go if I could, but I can't see anything. My candle is out."

    "Yes, that would be a problem. I am afraid that keen sight is not a gift I have been blessed with either. Could you stretch your other hand? There should be a candelabra to my left."

    So, you did, careful this time to touch any shards again, and indeed you found one after a few moments of waving your hand around. "I have it and it still has a bit of candle left on it, but I don't have anything to light it."

    "Let that be my concern. There are a few tricks that I still remember, but it will be taxing for me. It will take a quite a bit of blood to rouse me again after I do this, so be careful. Just hold the candle before me and take your hand from me."

    You had a fair idea what would happen next and indeed, after you did as he had told you, he spoke once more. This time, it felt different. His voice was the same, but something in the way he said them was wrong in a different way then when you had talked just now. "ᛚᛟᚷᛁ," he said. Flame. But when he said it, it was not a word, but a command and from a tiny spark on the candle came forth a light.

    It was the most beautiful sight you could imagine after all of this, letting you finally see again. Before you stood a large cabinet, filled with rotten bags containing smashed skulls. Herbs and writing still clung to the decaying bones. And in the centre of it all was a small pedestal, covered in shards of glass. Some still had a few drops of you blood on them.

    Only one was different. The skull that had called himself Mimir sat near the middle of the shelf, the blood you had just spilled on it having dried already. Now that you saw it with your eyes again, the smile looked anything but kind, just a sinister drawl scrawled across the bag containing the bone. He was quiet now and the strange awareness you had of his bag was gone. For all intents and purposes, it seemed to be just another piece of rotting junk in this cellar. But he had said that he could be roused again. The only question was if you wanted to.

    [] Leave the skull here.​
    [] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.​
    [] Try to hide the skull around the kitchens.​


    AN: Lot's of stress cut my writing time short, but things cleared up and we should be back to a semi-regular schedule now.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • We have an dubious ally! Let's secure hum as much as we can.

    [X] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.
     
    @Azel, do we know enough of the cellars around to be reasonably sure we'd hide it securely?
     
    Hey, it seems to me like we made a friend here! It's gonna free us, we're gonna sacrifice someone to it - it's gonna be a great holiday!
     
    [X] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.

    Well, let's hope our thieverish past plays for us here and we have a good eye for hidey-holes.
    Granted, this is most definitely not the usual sort of loot...
     
    [X] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.

    A skull is going to be painfully out of place in a kitchen. At least in a cellar we can find a halfway decent hiding place.
    Azel said:
    It was the most beautiful sight you could imagine after all of this, letting you finally see again. Before you stood a large cabinet, filled with rotten bags containing smashed skulls. Herbs and writing still clung to the decaying bones. And in the centre of it all was a small pedestal, covered in shards of glass. Some still had a few drops of you blood on them.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    :rofl: Makes me wonder who went out of their way for a skull collection here and just left it in the basement.
     
    [X] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.

    Ah, Mimir the wise.
    No love lost for the Norse he does.
     
    Azel said:
    You had heard the name 'Norn' before, but you could not recall when, just that it was some thing in the Northmens faith. "Was that a Norn then? The other thing?"
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    @Azel, I assume we can try to learn more about Norse mythos from our semi-friendly skull? OOC a Norn is a Big Deal, but IC we have no clue what's what.
     
    [x] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.

    Too many people in the kitchens to hide something that is so obviously out of place.
     
    [X] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.

    - yeah, reminds me of Morte from Planescape: torment
     
    A bit of speculation on semi-recent events.
    Azel said:
    Lord Lífsteinn Bjornson af Dagr
    A slightly chubby man with long, grey hair and beard, which show some errand strands of ash blond hair among them if you look closely enough. He is the current leader of the clan, but despite that seems to rarely be in the clanhold, instead spending most of his days on matters in the city. While looks alone might be deceiving, he appears to be not as martially inclined as his wife and eldest children, instead carrying himself with the air of a merchant or courtier.

    Lady Ragnhildr Asriðrdottir af Dagr
    The matriarch of the clan and the person who is usually in charge of the clanhold itself, commanding both the garrison and the servants. She is often seen in armored robes and ocassionally still trains with the warriors and especially her daughter Rannveig. Despite her lean stature, she is quite strong and her usual cold demeanor hides a fiery temper. Ever since the split in the family, she has taken up residence in the guest quarters of the hold, shunning he husbands presence and even refusing to share a table with him during meal times.

    Stéfnir Lífsteinnson af Dagr
    Eldest son of the Lord and as of recently his desired successor. He recently returned from a long and successful raid, bringing riches and glory with him. He outwardly pretends that nothing is wrong, but others whisper that he seems gloomy and withdrawn since the clash with his sister.

    Rannveig Lífsteinndottir af Dagr
    Eldest child of the Lord af Dagr and as such, until recently, the Tanist of the clan. She had been groomed for the role since birth and when her father proclaimed his intention to make her brother Stéfnir his successor, she vocally object and declared a grudge against him over the matter. Now she plans to raid some place beyond the ocean to the west to prove herself. She is in many ways like her mother, though the cold shell she presents others is much thinner and she has a reputation to be easy to provoke.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Azel said:
    It was Rannveig, who had stood up and began shouting at the top of her lungs in the direction of her father. "ᛃᛖᚷ ᛗᚢᚾ ᛖᚲᚲᛁ ᚷᛖᚠᚨᛊᛏ ᚢᛈᛈ ᛗᛖᚦ ᚠᚱᚢᛗᛒᚢᚱᚦᚨᚱᚱᛃᛖᛏᛏ ᛗᛁᚾᚾ ᛊᚹᛟᚾᚨ, ᚠᚨᚦᛁᚱ. ᚦᚢ ᛗᚢᚾᛏ ᛖᚲᚲᛁ ᚷᛖᚱᚨ ᛊᛏᛃᛖᚠᚾᛁᚱ ᚨᚦ ᛖᚱᚠᛁᛜᛃᚨ ᚦᛁᚾᚢᛗ ᛗᛖᚦ ᚦᚹᛁ ᚨᚦ ᚺᚱᛟᚢᛉᚨ ᚺᛟᚾᚢᛗ ᚹᛖᚷᛉᛖᛗᛞ ᛖᚾ ᚾᛖᛁᚦᚨ ᛗᛁᚷ ᛏᛁᛚ ᚨᚦ ᛉᛁᛏᛃᚨ ᛟᚷ ᚷᛖᚱᚨ ᛖᚲᚲᛖᚱᛏ." You tried your best to make out the words, but could not make sense of it. Something about giving something to her father. The tone alone made it clear though that she was beyond angry.

    There was more shouting, even at the central table now, and you poked Ingomer in the ribs to get her to talk. After a moment of confusion, she replied, completely forgetting to use her unpleasant, lecturing tone when she spoke. "The Lord just called for a vote to have Stéfnir made his heir."

    Before she could say any further, your eyes were drawn back to the table. Suddenly, Rannveig had an axe in her hand, from where you did not know, and brought it down on the table with enough force to split a plate and embed the weapon deep into the wood. "ᛃᛖᚷ ᛗᚢᚾ ᛉᚨᚾᚾᚨ ᛁᚲᚲᚢᚱ ᛟᛖᛚᛚ ᚨᚦ ᛃᛖᚷ ᛖᚱ ᚹᛖᚱᚦᚢᚷᚱᛁ. ᛃᛖᚷ ᛗᚢᚾ ᛏᚨᚲᚨ ᛊᚲᛁᛈ ᛟᚷ ᛉᛁᚷᛚᚨ ᚦᚹᛁ ᛁᚠᛁᚱ ᚹᛖᛊᛏᚢᚱᚺᚨᚠᛁᚦ ᛟᚷ ᚦᛖᚷᚨᚱ ᛃᛖᚷ ᛗᚢᚾ ᛊᚾᚢᚨ ᚨᚠᛏᚢᚱ ᛗᚢᚾᛏᚢ ᚹᛖᚱᚨ ᛃᛖᚷ ᚨᚦ ᚹᛖᚱᚦᚨ ᛖᚱᚠᛁᛜᛁ ᚦᛁᚾᚾ ᚨᚠᛏᚢᚱ!" After she was done yelling, she turned around and left, most of the hall watching in stunned silence while a few apparently cheered at what she had done.

    Again, you elbowed the other servant next to you. "Don't make me beg, Ingomer. What did she say?"
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    So Lord Lífsteinn Bjornson af Dagr, for god knows what reason, decided to replace his heir Rannveig Lífsteinndottir af Dagr with his eldest son Stéfnir Lífsteinnson af Dagr via a vote. And Stéfnir doesn't seem like he particularly wanted this either, he's just caught in the middle of a fight between his father and sister. Does anyone have any ideas on what sparked this? You don't just up and try to get rid of a seemingly perfectly competent heiress without a reason.
     
    Duesal said:
    So Lord Lífsteinn Bjornson af Dagr, for god knows what reason, decided to replace his heir Rannveig Lífsteinndottir af Dagr with his eldest son Stéfnir Lífsteinnson af Dagr via a vote. And Stéfnir doesn't seem like he particularly wanted this either, he's just caught in the middle of a fight between his father and sister. Does anyone have any ideas on what sparked this? You don't just up and try to get rid of a seemingly perfectly competent heiress without a reason.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Mind you that no vote actually occurred, so the succession is currently not entirely clear. If Lífsteinn would die right now, that would mean Bad ThingsTM​.
     
    [X] Take the skull and try to hide it in another cellar.

    I don't trust Mimir the Skull, but he is certainly powerful and could teach us a lot. Plus, he needs our blood if he wants to be conscious, so we do have some influence over him. We just need to keep him away from others, not only because he might get taken away by our superiors, but also because I assume anyone's blood will suffice for him so another slave may just take him as their own.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top