Preface: Allusions to drunken dance with no pants, but nothing too explicit? Figure I may as well give a notice.
━<><><>< 475 A.P. ><><><>━
Skarri watches the room begin to empty out, he lets out a sigh after a few moments before turning around and beginning to pack away his material.
That wasn't a bad one, most of them had entertained him for the full length of the presentation and asked him questions that showed they were listening to him and not just scoffing into their beards, but he could tell he probably wasn't getting any recruits from this one. It was a longshot of course, but one he and Thunder had agreed was worth the effort. Even one Runesmith and Brana that joined them would be a great boon. The Skarr-khazunki had added three more rider pairs in the five years since they first began officially operating, a victory considering the weight of tradition they fought against, but it was always a battle to stave off the cloud of disappointment that loomed overhead like the King's storm did over the Karak.
Nothing for it but to keep arguing and hoping it made a few finally crack.
"Master Dolgisson and Thunder Wing, a moment of your time if we may!" a voice calls, making Skarri pause and turn around to the source.
He sees that the speaker is a younger kvinn with a very large yet very sleek Brana beside making their way to him. The Runesmith's hair was braided in a single thick plait that she had hung over herself like a sash, ending in like the tip of a painter's brush just barely over her shoulder. The Brana had almost blue plumage, paired with a heavily spotted coat, the fur and feathers shining dazzlingly under the lights of Khazagar's many Runes.
"Master Runesmith Bruna Ironshield," she introduces herself, then gestures to the Branakroki behind her, "and Ghur Claw."
The Brana nods at him before looking at Thunder Wing, sizing up their counterpart in the usual posturing that comes when they see a stranger of their kind. Skarri pays the challenge no mind, trusting Thunder to hold her own and focuses on his fellow Runesmith
"Greetings Master Ironshield, Ghur Claw," he offers in return, "what can my friend and I do for you?"
"My partner and I wish to see if the Skarr-kazhunki are worthy of us," the Brana answers before Bruna can open her mouth, the Khazalid feeling distinctly out of place given how smooth and light the voice from her torc is.
Bruna frowns then shakes her head at her companion before turning to offer Skarri an apologetic smile.
"Sort of what she said, Claw's been trying to get me to do it for a while, but your presentation finally pushed me over the edge to give it a shot."
Skarri blinks in surprise, then he feels a grin form on his face at her admission. While most of it was from having another pair, and a Runesmith to boot, potentially join their ranks, It was also good to know that people were joining because his arguments were sound and not just because of his Clan or his father's teacher.
"That's good to hear! We can hammer out the details and scheduling somewhere less busy, someone else is using this hall after us. But we can walk and talk there if you'd like?"
"That's agreeable with us," Bruna confirms with a nod before pointing a thumb at her friend, "as soon as this is done."
He nods back in agreement.
The two of them settle in and watch the staring Brana, knowing full well that neither will leave until one asserts their dominance over the other.
━<><><>< 477 A.P. ><><><>━
"Da I—"
"Say no more son," Dolgi interrupts, waving off Skarri's explanation, "The heart is a mysterious thing after all!"
"pl—"
"Why, take how your mother and I met!" Dolgi barrels on, getting lost in the memory "I knew the moment I laid eyes upon your mother that I would marry her or die alone! Though I will say our courting wasn't quite so rushed as yours is shaping up to be!"
Skarri wants to scream, half listening to his father speak and bemoaning his fortunes.
He feels a hand fall on his shoulder, and he turns to see his mother staring at him knowingly.
"We'll let him get this out of his system first, Dolgi's no use when he gets reminiscing. In the meantime, why don't you tell me more about this girl you're courting."
He sighs.
"I am not courting her," Skarri repeats, "Bruna's just a friend, a good friend aye and one who's been a great help with organizing the Skarr-kazhunki, but nothing more! She's not even the only one coming for dinner for Grungni's sake! All of the riders and their partners are!"
His mother nods, but the eldest Dolgiling sighs knowing full well she doesn't believe him.
If he had known that taking the younger Runesmith and her partner Brana on as their respective seconds in command would lead to
this? Well actually he'd still probably do it, Bruna and Ghur Claw's skills complemented his and Thunder Wing's well and the former had helped grow the Skarr-kazhunki's numbers faster than if it had still just been the two of them, but he'd have definitely been better prepared before telling his parents
"Of course, of course. We'll be sure to put you both together when we're planning the seating arrangement," his mother insists soothingly.
Frankly Skarri
would appreciate it, there were a few issues with their work the last few years that had he'd noticed and he wanted to run some of his and Thunder Wing's ideas by her and Ghur Claw as a second sober thought, but he wouldn't let his parents know that, It'd only egg them on.
"Valaya help me," he mutters again.
"She already has!" his da butts in suddenly, "by bringing a fine young lady into your life!"
Just one meal, he repeats in his mind,
just one meal.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Skarri watches the scene in front of him play out with morbid fascination.
His father's strange hobby had taken on a, in Skarri's opinion, morbid bent a while ago. He had begun trying to learn how to cook, but many of those attempts were startlingly bad when it didn't involve jerky. Eventually his mother had made it clear that she would not let him waste food for his efforts and that she expected him to eat what he made. Hoping that the suffering of eating such a terrible meal, and especially so for his father, making his children eat it too, would give him reason to improve his cooking.
And in all fairness, it
had. When Dolgi Bolgisson had a mind to, he could cook up a fine meal.
But it had lit a strange fire under him too. After he proved he could cook
good food he had begun trying to make more and more terrible stews that were
still edible without any poor aftereffects, an 'intellectual curiosity,' he once told Skarri. Mother refused to kiss him for days after he ate those early attempts because they had left his breath smelling worse than a rundown privy. In response he chased down the stew with palate cleansers and vigorous washing before then eventually finding a way for the concoction to leave no after-taste. When the stench became an issue, it had become odourless. When it was the cost, he had begun budgeting around it. Every limitation or condition that his family had put on Dolgi Bolgisson's endeavours was treated like a challenge to be overcome.
In his life Skarri had seen nothing that made his parents get truly mad at each other, but the business of the stew nearly had.
His father had, thankfully, seemingly noticed that as well, and it was enough of a kick to his system to get him to step back and re-examine everything.
"Stew isn't worth it son," his father had said.
In the aftermath, his parents had come to an agreement about how to move forward.
Firstly, that his father could now only make a single pot of his stew once a month
unprompted, and that it would need to be eaten in full, entirely by himself if it came down to it, before he could make more. Second, that offering the stew to anyone would require that he pony up appropriate weregild, and wasn't that word so horribly apt too, for the other party if they accepted regardless of success.
When Skarri had first shared that story with the others over a few drinks on campaign they had all voiced their doubts. Not about the events, but over just how bad the stew actually was. Several of the Brana had even taken it as a challenge of their fortitude and convinced their partners to try it with them.
So, reluctantly, he had asked his father to prepare a few bowls when they got back to the Hold.
They believed him then.
It had been three years since then, and in that time his father had not stopped developing his 'creation.' That was all to say that when the two dozen pairs that made up the Skarr-kazhunki sat down to eat, they politely yet firmly rebuffed the offer to have some of the ominous bubbling black substance inside the pot that his father had made.
Save one.
To the grim astonishment and slight respect of many, and in the case of his father, open joy, Bruna stoically and methodically ate spoonful after spoonful of the stuff without even a sign of discomfort.
He sees the substance in the bowl bubble, and he has to look away before he is bombarded with the memory of trying it himself.
When the dinner is over, he has to ask Bruna what on earth would compel her to do that to herself.
"To send a message," she says with a shrug, "Ale was a nice bonus too."
He can only shake his head in disbelief.
"To who?" he wonders, "If it's my da, I think he's reached a very different conclusion than you had hoped. If anything it'll egg him on more."
"I think he knows," Bruna assures him, her voice sure.
After that his father had insisted she test his stew once a month, and made him act as his messenger to invite her to dinner.
He isn't quite sure how he failed to notice what was happening at that point.
━<><><>< 479 A.P. ><><><>━
"Bruna," he calls, walking towards her and Ghur Claw.
"Skarri," Bruna looks up from the harness she was adjusting to stare at him expectantly. "What's the plan?"
Skarri means to speak, but he finds his head empty of thought when he takes in her appearance; face covered in grime, a few harpy feathers sticking out of joints in her armour, while a few loose wavy strands of hair, loosened from her braid after she took off her helmet, had fallen and framed her face.
"We'll be contesting the harpies, and if we're fierce enough then we're to strike at their backline. Zhufokri are, as ever, a priority." he says, recovering from the lapse in his train of thought.
"Sensible. What of the Elgi, do I need to keep Ghur Claw from gushing too much?"
He shakes his head.
"They'll be on the other flank, opposite us."
Bruna nods, more waves loosening from her braid with the bob of her head. She grimaces when one falls in front of her eyes and he watches her begin to re-make her braid from the beginning.
"Damn harpies," she mutters.
"I'll leave you to it then," Skarri continues, "be ready for muster and brief in five minutes, we'll need to be airborne soon. I'll spread the word to the others."
"By your leave
Blid-Rhunki," she answers, the edges of her mouth quirking upwards at the title.
Skarri had once said he didn't care for that moniker, and had subsequently been saddled with it for foolishly letting the others know that, but he doesn't feel the upswell of annoyance this time.
Ignoring Thunder Wing's curious poking and prodding and the strange feelings in his gut, he instead marches off to inform the others.
He can reflect after this battle is won.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Protecting the Fimir backline from Skarri and the Skarr-kazhunki is a horde as numerous as the legions they field below. A mass of hundreds of harpies and flying daemons serve as the chaff for a core of larger, deadlier beasts enslaved and empowered through sorcerous dark magic.
Most had been drawn away when the Elves began swooping down upon the ranks below, but that still leaves over two hundred bodies to hover guard.
The Dwarfs can muster only two dozen Skarr-kazhunki to face them.
A grim prospect on paper, but what they lack in number they replace with quality.
The moment they break out of the cover of the storm above, the enemy begins moving to meet them.
Skarri blows on his war horn and blows long and hard. The sound that escapes is a long and ghastly shriek, empowered by the three Runes that run along its length to terrify and stun his foes and invigorate his allies.
Behind him the Skarr-kazhunki get into formation, coming together to make a tightly packed V meant to pierce through the screen of fliers to get to their real target.
He raises his Runestaff both as a signal, and to activate its Runes; unleashing a bolt of lightning thicker than his arm to herald a barrage of magic and metal as more thunderbolts, spears of crackling amber energy and iron javelins follow suit. Dozens die from their volley, falling out of the sky like dolls from the top shelf, but their numbers are so great that it makes no visible dent in the flock now coming towards them.
He lowers his staff and pulls out his axe, urging Thunder Wing faster and faster until the howl of the wind is literally rattling his helm and freezing the few bits of exposed skin his flight plate does not cover.
When their small and orderly formation slams into the horde, they disappear in a sea of feathers, flesh and scale.
For a while the formation holds firm, a mighty wedge cutting through the flock like a bolt through a snowstorm.
But eventually the weight of numbers cannot be denied.
He does not despair or grow concerned when they lose cohesion though, trusting that the others can fend for themselves and reform as they make their way to the other side. Instead he pushes forward, cutting, casting, and killing his way through to the other side and helping his allies the few times he sees them appear.
Thunder Wing banks left to dodge the talons of a diving harpy and Skarri uses his axe to take the place where the Brana once filled. In the air he can't afford to focus on just the enemy in front of him like he can on the ground, but the reverberation of the shaft in his hands, the sound of Gromril parting flesh and feather then the shriek of pain that follows lets him know he has struck true.
A familiar cry, shrill and furious to his lower left, draws his attention away from their enemies. Following the sound leads him to the sight of Ghur Claw, just barely visible from a flock of harpies that surround her. Circling around the ball like a shark was a Chimaera riding Fimir, his club long and glowing with dark power. Quicksilver flashes of Gromril tell him Bruna is reaping a bloody toll among the birdwomen from atop her partner's back, but they are dangerously close to being overwhelmed as more and more harpies fly over.
He alerts Thunder Wing by tilting his body in their direction, and his partner immediately alters their heading towards them, coming into a shallow descent that allows her to pick up speed.
When they get close enough Skarri raises his Runestaff once more, the raven shaped topper crackling with energy for several seconds as the Rune charges before launching a torrent of lightning at the swarm, knowing that Bruna and Ghur Claw's equipment will shield them from his attack. Bodies fall, leaving only the Chimaera rider and his mount to square off with the Runesmith and her partner.
He and Thunder Wing aren't close enough to help them yet.
Instead he is forced to watch as Bruna and Ghur Claw go from fighting a swarm to engaging in a mid air duel. Ghur Claw slams into the Chimaera with magically enhanced strength, occupying the mount while Bruna leverages herself up the saddle to swing her axe at its rider. She and the Fimir trade a flurry of blows, Runed Gromril clashing with Daemonfused Iron so quickly that sparks erupt from their contact.
Their exchange lasts no more than a few seconds, but to Skarri the moment the Fimir breaks her guard and slams his club into her chest feels like an eternity.
The only reason Bruna is not flung clear off of Ghur Claw by the blow are the chains that shackle the two of them together. Instead she is thrown back before the chains arrest her momentum, the sudden movement of several kilos of armoured Dwarf pulls Ghur Claw away just enough for the Chimaera to break free of her talons.
Whatever the Fimir was planning to do next however, is cut short when Skarri's axe finds the back of his neck. The momentum from their dive is enough to carry the blade forward past the rider's neck and through the neck of one of the Chimaera's three heads. Before the beast can even process what has happened, a furious Ghur Claw slams back into it with renewed vigour, ripping and tearing at one head while Bruna attacks the other. The two make short work of the injured beast, and Ghur Claw screeches victory as its body plummets to beneath the clouds.
Much as Skarri would like to check on her, the caw of another Brana in battle forces his hand.
All he can do is offer the recovering pair a nod as he and Thunder Wing fly past.
━<><><>< 480 A.P. ><><><>━
During one of the times Bruna visits to test his father's stew, he opens the door to see her with a box in her hands.
"Here," she says, pushing it forward insistently, "to repay my debt to you."
He quirks a brow curiously at first but his mind supplies him with the appropriate memory eventually.
"That campaign last year? I thought that was the gift on Nauvsdeg?"
That one had been a cloak of Brana feathers like his father's, marked with the Rune of the Hawk, Strollaz and the Ancestors on the Gromril plates that formed the clasp and buckle. It was a finely made thing, and he saw no need to upset her by not wearing it.
"Different occasion from the year prior," she waves off then pushes the box forward again, "now, take this so I can be clear of the debt I owe you."
"Aye?" he replies good-naturedly, "you'll stake your word on
this gift clearing all your debts Lady Ironshield?"
"I'll walk around the Karak in the buff if it doesn't," she responds sincerely, watching him and the box intently.
He almost chokes at her promise.
Deciding the best way to get that particular mental image out of his head was to look inside, Skarri hastily opens the lid—
—only to blink when the soft texture of feathers strikes his face.
Sputtering for a moment, he gently slides them out of the way to see what else is in there, and sees the shine of Gromril staring back at him.
It's a flight helmet.
He quietly sets down the box on a nearby table and pulls out Bruna's creation to get a better look at it.
Two swooping wings rise up from its sides in the style of the southern Holds, but that is where the similarities end. For one thing the wings are bent farther back, following the curve of the helmet, and rather than the pristine white pinions of Great Eagles or the mottled grey of Alpine Hawks the wings are made from the familiar sheen of Thunder Wing's own plumage. The body of the helmet has been forged to take on a distinctly avian shape, and through the clever use of embossing, knotwork and specially shaped scales in the aventail, even gives the impression of being completely feathered. Clear pieces of quartz are set into the eyeholes of the spectacle guard and framed by yet more embossed feathers while the tip of the nasal ridge ends in a distinctly beak-like point. Three Runes are spaced evenly apart across the front half of the rim, glowing with power.
A variant of the Rune of Quick Wits, the Rune of Gales, and in a place of prominence on the middle of his brow, the Master Rune of Grungni shines brightest of all.
"It's beautiful," he says unconsciously, staring up from the helmet to nod at her thankfully.
She scoffs, "Of course it is,
I made it."
Unsure of what else to say he can only nod again.
"Now that that's done I ought to go Blid-Rhunki," Bruna continues, patting her hands together, "your father has a keg of ale with my name on it!"
She passes by him, his nose picking up the scent of meadow flowers and berries as she does, and walks into his family home with an air of purposeful confidence
Staring after her, the disparate feelings and questions in his mind these past few months come together into startling clarity.
I see.
━<><><><==><><><>━
Thunder Wing watches her partner and best friend curiously.
Skarri pacing and thinking aloud are not foreign practices to her. Her friend had taken to occupying his mouth and body while his mind worked through whatever problem it was he deemed most pressing at that moment. This time though, the puzzle he's trying to solve is not planning the future direction of their war-flock, nor how to best convey his opinions and words to the Dwarf King, or even which magical Rune he shall use for his latest creation.
Instead Skarri now grapples with the realization that she and every other Brana in the war-flock had smelled, and many of the Dwarfs had discovered years ago.
And if it was any other occasion, seeing him flail about as he grappled with infatuation would be a source of great enjoyment she would relish bringing up to his future self for the rest of their lives.
But she cannot.
His mind cannot be occupied by such thoughts at this juncture in the war-flock's development. Not when word among the warriors was that they would perhaps be fighting alongside the High King this coming campaign season rather than be sent off to strike at the rear or flanks. Skarri's focus must not be split or drawn away, and even if she knows he will try with all his might to put his feelings aside. As fellow leader and as his best friend she knows he cannot fully put whatever his current worry is out of his mind for long, nor does she want him to.
"Skarri," she finally says, the seriousness of her tone stopping his pacing in its tracks.
He turns to regard her curiously.
"Take Bruna out for some drinks, trust yourself and face your fears. Either pursue or let this end, but we both know that pacing will not give you your answer."
The hesitance on his features is plain to see, but they've been around each other long enough for her to tell that at least one part of him is in agreement.
"It would only be drinks Skarri, give yourself a second reason as a cover if you like. What can go wrong?"
━<><><><==><><><>━
What can go wrong? He thinks mockingly, Thunder Wing's words ringing in his mind as he stares up at the ceiling of the room.
The warmth of the other body in the bed is both a constant distraction, and reminder of what exactly could go
wrong. He had meant to take things slow, be proper, and an all around gentleman like his father. So when Bruna called it in he offered to escort her home, because that was the right and proper thing he was taught to do. He did not complain when Bruna decided to drunkenly meander her way through the most circuitous path to her home, bumping into him every so often while waving off his offers to help. Nor when she decided about three fourths of the way through their walk to go to her workshop and sleep off the hangover the next morning in peace.
The plan had been bidding her goodnight when they got to her workshop, and if he was drunk enough maybe say something to show his interest, wait for Bruna to drunkenly bid her farewells and close the door, then walk home and say nothing to his parents and let things go as they may.
Not…
this.
Skarri musters up his courage and turns his head to look at the Dwarf beside him and make sure he isn't imagining things (which would be a whole 'nother can of worms). The first thing he notices is the bare skin of Bruna's shoulder peeking out from under the strands of her hair, the braid having come undone at some point in all of…
this. The steady rise and fall of her form telling him she's fast asleep by this point.
He quickly goes back to looking at the ceiling, contemplating what to do and cursing Thunder Wing for tempting fate.
"Da will throttle me when he finds out," he whispers to himself.
Or cheer and break out the good ale then do a jig, then eventually give him a hard time when he entered bride price negotiations with Bruna's Clan.
He hears the bedsheets rustle, and he has to stop himself from making a sound in surprise when an arm lays across his chest and his second in command snuggles up against him, mumbling incoherently.
No, things certainly
hadn't gone to plan.
Even so, he can't bring himself to regret the way it all fell apart.
━<><><><==><><><>━
His father refuses to stop smiling at him.
Skarri soldiers on, trying to get through this discussion with as much dignity as he can salvage.
Oh he'll be eating crow about this till the day he dies, but that's not what's important here.
Bruna's Nauvsdeg is five months away and he doesn't have plans.
Well he
did, but a few kegs of his best ale as a gift, doesn't seem appropriate given the status of their relationship.
He had been worried that publicly attempting to court her would alter the dynamic among the Skarr-kazhunki, but he'd only gotten a few scoffs and muttered "finally"-'s thrown his way before things had largely gone back to normal. Save, of course, the fact that his supposed subordinates now added his obliviousness to the many things they gave him a friendly ribbing about.
When he finishes explaining his situation his father doesn't reply immediately. He just keeps smiling at him, and while that's
nice it doesnt really help him right now.
He requires a gift that signifies the importance he places on their relationship, and more importantly, that Bruna will actually enjoy and find use for. So Runes of course, were a given, but the form of it, and the purpose, was up in the air. Large golden jewelry was fine enough, but those sorts of things were more meant for the public than it was for her. No, it didn't feel particularly personal to him at all, especially for Nauvsdeg.
"Da please say something," he insists again, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
Dolgi raises his hands in mock surrender.
"Alright, alright. Five months till her Nauvsdeg and you don't have anything suitable in mind. That isn't a good look, but we can figure something out. I'll warn you though, it'll mean plenty of sleepless nights you hear? And not the fun kind!"
He nods in relief and listens when his father begins laying out his options.
━<><><>< 481 A.P. ><><><>━
The shorter the gap between a maiden announcing her openness to courtship and marriage, it is commonly said, can say one or two things.
Firstly, and most commonly, is because the former is a formality to be observed and nothing more. As is often the case in noble Clans who have sworn oaths of marriage or when the involved parties knew well beforehand who'd they pick.
The second, as his da once so nicely put it, "is because somebody got caught with perfume in his beard."
Skarri thinks, hopes really, that most people believe it's the former in his case.
Emphasis on
most.
The Brana have a keen sense of smell for one thing and few people can clean up so well that they remove enough that the griffons
can't pick up a scent, and several of his family members have been giving him knowing looks and comments.
Not quite sure how he feels about Solveig giving him grief for getting caught more than the inappropriateness of it all before giving him a list of ways to be discrete about certain things 'for the future.'
But he's leaving that particular vein well and truly untouched, till the day he dies hopefully.
That's da's business.
The worst part is the negotiations, not because he and Bruna have no input or anything like that, but because he can feel the scrutinizing gaze of her parents and extended family boring into him accusingly while he just has to stand there and smile politely.
Maybe that's an appropriate punishment in the eyes of the Ancestors.
Shameful as certain things are, he takes some solace that
this was the sort of thing most people just scoffed at and muttered about how inappropriate the youth were before quietly pushing it under the rug and moving on with the consequences.
Patience and self control weren't virtues because they were easy, it was precisely the opposite in fact.
━<><><><==><><><>━
- [Early 481] Dolgi Bolgisson of Clan Scorriling and Begrund Algardsson of Clan Ironshield jointly announce the engagement of the former's eldest son, Master Runesmith Skarri Dolgisson, to the latter's daughter, Master Runesmith Bruna Galkrasdottir. The latter shall become a member of Clan Scorriling
- [Early 482] Svina Brunasdottir, firstborn child of Skarri Dolgisson and Bruna Galkrasdottir, is born and inducted into Clan Scorriling.
━<><><>< Khazalid Trivia ><><><>━
Blid-Rhunki - Lit. "Lightning Runesmith"/ Lightning Smith
Nauvsdeg - Day of Naming
Skarr-kazhunki - Lit. "Sky carried warrior"/Skyriders. The name for the combined Brana and Dawi mounted company of Kraka Drakk. Maybe even
Skarri's Skyriders if you were so inclined.
━<><><><==><><><>━
AN: This was originally going to be like 2 segments in Pt. 1 of Turn 58, but I decided to release that early given current world events. Even so, I couldn't get it out of my head so I kept writing and my muse led to it getting ballooned out into a sort of slideshow of key moments and build up in Skarri's
scandalously short 1-year courtship. A funny contrast to Dolgi's. Sorry for people who wanted Pt. 2 instead, I'll go back to writing about Snorri doing Snorri things and making history defining discoveries now, just had to follow the muse get this out of the noggin. Hope you enjoy what's here, and don't forget to C&C! :^)
Also shout out to the Runescribes that have been helping me fill up the tags and maintain the Rune list, you've been a great help!
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