"Yeah!" says Evyindr. "Let's go find a seat to stand. Coming?" he asks, the question directed to Dalla and Havark.
Little more time passes before the Main Hall is packed with both spectators and competitors. Of note to Havark and Tyv, it seems that Jarl Runí of Dómarr and Gunnar Scarfoot will be competing as well as Hákon. A man near the 'stage' (rather, a table in the otherwise cleared center of the room) calls for folk to place bets, a stack of northern coins and bits of silver jewelry resting on a table in front of him. In an adjacent seat, another tracks the wagers on a piece of parchment.
Hákon takes the first round, and he is up against Eldrik the Tallowhand, a halfling who's rotund even by his race's standards.
Glówen discovers Ásvaldr saddling his horse for the races. He seems to chew his thoughts a bit before responding, "Hmm... Their ploy is clever, if underhanded. Of course my children would stand up to them. They'd be fools to try this with Sverrir and Ósk - they are truly young - but you are right to be wary. I would fear for Tyri's safety." When Glówen explains his plan, the Jarl can't help but laugh at the thought. "Haha, excellent! The challenger will have no recourse from that!"
Glówen watches the two rounds of the children's archery event pass without incident. Ósk does well enough to make it into the second round, but she's a bit young to have any real mastery over bow use. Sverrir also makes it into the second round, where he gets a bullseye on his first shot, but miss the target entirely with his next two arrows. In the end, he doesn't place.
The targets are rolled further back for the adults' round, and the competitors get in position for the first round of the contest! A shadow looms over Glówen a moment. "So the joking rat tries his hand at the bowman's craft? Many talents, this one has." When Glówen turns to see who it is, he finds the imposing Jarl Varghoss of Clan Ránulfr towering over him, holding a yew bow in his grip. Apparently, he is among the competition.
Glowen nearly leaps out of his skin when he sees Varghoss, a slight squeal escaping his tiny rat face. "Sorry, you surprised me there. My, you are a big one, so much more so up close!" Regaining his composure, "Many talents? Bah, not nearly enough. When you are as scrawny as I am, you need to find other ways to survive. I could never lift the gigantic swords you humans carry around, let alone swing one effectively. Shoot, I can barely draw this little bow. I hope the targets aren't too far back."
He 'notices' the bow Varghoss is holding. "Very nice bow, is it magical? I'd love to be able to fire that thing! It would make having the personal ire of Boreas a little easier to bear."
Forgot to mention, he keeps an eye on Varghoss in addition to watching out for Tyri.
When it comes down to the contest, here are Glowen's attack rolls.
Round 1:
Round 2 (if he somehow make it):
Round 3 (not very likely):
A smile creeps across Varghoss's face when Glówen shrieked. In response to Glówen's about the his personal talents and the targets, he remarks, "That's too bad - this is a contest for warriors after all. Perhaps you could have talked yourself into the children's contest, if it had occurred to you.
"Only the magic of my cousin's fine craftsmanship was required for this bow." He laughs when Glówen suggests firing his bow. "With the right amount of coin, he likely could make one for you, but this weapon stands taller than you, rat. When did you come to the attention of Boreas?" he asks, hiking an eyebrow up his forehead.
Round 1 (vs AC 10)
Results
As the first round of the competition gets underway, Glówen just squeaks by to make it into the second round. Watching the others, Varghoss dominates the round, with Tyri trailing just behind him.
"Clearly the day I was born. Not all Rat Folk are as scrawny as I. Even a mighty specimen as yourself would wither under his glare. Be glad you have had it so easy."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Tyv claps his hands in delight at all the shiny coins Havark wins during the first round of the completion, and decides that wagering is his new favorite game. He has little understanding of how things actually work however, and bases his his bets on completely unfathomable criteria.
As he follows Havark around the hall like an annoyingly curious child, he interjects with what he feels are keenly insightful observations about the competitors. Hmm, that one's soul is purple. That guy with the big beard had cod fish for lunch. The fat Halfling - if you rearrange the letters in his name and drop the "k" - because, really, "k" is a pretty stupid letter when you think about it - it spells idler - could be significant
I better keep a few coin for mead... I will wager 30 this round
Havark watches as the competition continues. He keeps a close eye on the children of the Jarl while he places his bets giving himself a convenient cover for looking so close at all the contestants. Tyv provides a suitable distraction as well with his antics and statements.
The competition proves an exciting event to watch - there are a lot of close matches, and Gunnar is dropped from the contest after going head-to-head with Jarl Runí in his second round and losing. Hákon has succeed in his few matches so far, but the competition's getting tougher.
So far, Havark has spotted no trouble for Ásvaldr's children. However, the success he and Tyv have with gambling seems to have drawn a mix of curious and salty stares - in no small part due to Tyv's baffling logic that yet wins him coin. Evyindr and Dalla pay close attention as well, encouraging Tyv to teach them the strange things he knows. Havark notes that Dalla's mood seems much improved by this.
"I've never met ratfolk until now, so I shall take your at your word." He snorts in derision when Glówen states that Varghoss has it easy. "Easy?! You think being crushed under Ásvaldr's thumb is easy?"
Jarl Varghoss grabs the attention of his retinue of twenty-or-so guards as his anger rises, and they come to stand by his side menacingly, forcing Glówen back as they do so. Varghoss does not speak to Glówen throughout the competition, nor does he seem to become less angry.
"Silverbolt. What happened?" Tyri asks after the commotion calms. Her raven hair dances along her face in the breeze
Round 2 (vs AC 11)
Though not the worst of the second round (certainly better than the Sigurđr man that couldn't hit the target), Glówen doesn't score quite well enough to make it into the semi-finals. Tyri and Varghoss both scored three points, which places them in the bottom of the un-eliminated contestants.
"You have done well Tyv. I am pleased you made Dalla smile again. Now let me look at those left and find the winner among them."
Havark searches the room and eyes the remaining men. He keeps a few extra this time wagering 40gp and keeping 11gp
A few well placed bets again and he turns the 40 into 60 and now has 71gp.
"Come let us all go and tell your father of the fine day you had and enjoy a feast."
Glown guffaw's goodnaturedly. "Now this I cannot believe! Yes, I've had fun at your expense, but this last statement truly bewilders me." "You cannot tell me that being big and strong is not better than being weak and puny. Seriously, I cannot see your little sister wrestling you for a piece of food and winning..." He adds, almost under his breath, "... EVERY freaking time!". He raises his eyes back to meet those of the big man, "If ever there was someone to bully you when you were a child, I'm sure he'd be king of the world by now!".
He gets control of himself again and probes a bit deeper. "Well, OK. Perhaps 'easy' was not a good choice. I must admit that 'easier' does not necessarily mean 'easy'. But if it is not strength of arms that troubles you so, how has Ásvaldr plagued you? Is it the burden of leadership? I've the luxury of never having to deal with that, though I have heard that being responsible for so many people can crush even the best of men like a mountain and that it is best to share that burden with others."
Once the big man is gone, he replies to Tyri, "If I'm lucky, I've just diverted his attention from you. And if I'm real lucky, I won't end up in anyone's stew!" he finishes with a grin.
Tyv does remarkably as he places the Ránulfr sword on the table in exchange for pocketfuls of hacksilver, to only then win even more wealth. His new retinue of students (other children and desperate men, mostly) don't have quite the same luck - but as none of them completely understand Tyv's lessons, none are confident enough challenge his methods against their failings.
Though Hákon makes it over halfway through the contest, he is defeated by a Gudólfr warrior (who eventually goes on to win). In the interim, he seats himself with his siblings and a glass of mead. Dalla teases him, "Come now, little brother, weren't you bragging last night about lifting a log with only two fingers? What a shameful display that was."
While the competition nears to a close, Havark notices a man sitting near the children, watching them closely.
Though Glówen eventually turns the conversation around and tries to backtrack any insult he may have leveled, Varghoss is beside himself with bristling anger, and seems no longer mentally present for what the ratfolk has to say. Guards are between the two soon enough.
Tyri returns a incredulous and humorless smile. "If that's what's occured, I am thankful." Her eyes dart to the Ránulfr jarl and back again. "I think you've just made him mad, though."
Tyri loses out in the semi-finals, and only Varghoss and an unassuming (but skilled) woman face each other in final round. The woman hits with two shots, hitting the outer rings with each. Varghoss hits with the same number, but his aim was the truer as he hits two bullseyes! They share a respectful arm clasp as Varghoss is declared the winner.
Once Havark takes notice he would stare blankly and calculating at the man to the point of it being rude, well because that is kind of how he roles.
Does he display any mark of household?
Havark leaves a gold for his drinks and the rest as a tip or whatever they would have called it. He continues to listen to the children discuss and taunt one another as he stares at the man.
Glowen keeps watch for the expected taunt, ready to act as described.
He bears no house marking. Come to think of it, neither did the 'Ránulfr' that challenged Dalla earlier. The man eventually takes notice of Havark staring at him, and proceeds to join in a shared, uncomfortably-long eye contact. However, when Hákon goes to refill his mead, he walks past the man who proceeds to kicks his foot out and trips the scion on his return trip. Covered in mead, he rises with a feigned anger, "Clumsy oaf! Watch your feet!"
Hákon rebukes, "Oaf? You tripped me!"
"Tripped you? Own up your gracelessness: don't accuse me to mask your failings!"
Sure enough, a young, blotchy faced warrior tries to approach Tyri. He opens his mouth to speak, "#### ## ##### ##### #### ## ####," - the crowd swells in volume to overtake him, at Glówen's behest. He furrows his brow quizzically as Tyri expectantly looks on, and then tries again, "## ##### ### ######## ## ## ##### #######! ### #####!" The crowd swells again, including dog's barking, children crying, and a voice crying out, "Jerky! Archers, get your jerky here!"
Noticing something fishy at hand Havark watches closely and focuses in. As words exchange he flings his mug at the man.
+ Maximum of 2d4=8 -4 for low Str. So 9 damage from a mug of mead. :)
Havark watches as the the situation arises. He is quick to act and flings his own mug of mead at the mans head. He stands.
"Now you have my mead on you and a broken nose. Look at this one too ashamed to even wear marks of their house. Though if I were of a house of níđingrs I may do the same. You trip a man to get his attention like a coward. So I say this now. I challenge Holmganga against this coward unless he wishes to bed now for my forgiveness and admit he tripped Hákon like the níđingrs he is."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Stay with the plan. Keep it up till the kids gets away.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Tyv leans across the table to Dalla and Eyvindr, occupying their minds with an idea to keep them from rushing in and making things worse.
Now that's interesting isn't it? Havark is right, none of these strangers who have challenged you and your siblings today have born clan insignia. Either Ranulfr is too ashamed of their own tactics to own up to it, or a third party is trying to play the Havardr and Ranulfr against each other.
I think I would like to talk to one of these blowhards at greater length later tonight, he muses, then adds, Eyvindr, go bring your brother back to the table before steel is drawn.
In the Þings of the following years and decades, the exploits of Havark Mead-Chucker would be exaggerated into cosmic terms, where those gathered in the hall (and even the passage of time itself) held their breath as this mug travelled with the lethality of a lightning strike. The now-essentially fictional character, possessed with senses keen enough to rival Heimdall himself, is said to have shattered the face of a man thrice his size and cast him into a slumber lasting for nine days.
Of course, the reality on Midgard was never recorded so precisely in the sagas. It was a blessed throw to make Wotan proud, and the subject of the attack certainly now suffered a broken nose along with busted teeth... but he was livid and still very-much conscious. He spits chunks of teeth and blood from his mouth before screaming at Havark, "Níffinnr? You halftroll, carrion-eatinn beiskleikr! I accept your challenne - Holmnanna we shall have, sorffinn."
Evyndir runs up to retrieve his eminently bewildered brother, and Tyv's topic of conversation takes hold with the three children. As those coordinating the event calm the crowd down for the last two rounds of the competition, the challenger glares at Havark as he cleans blood from his face and leaves the hall.
The warrior now notices the ratfolk nearby, who's attempt to act casual while controlling a spell is fairly unconvincing. Tyri recalls the plan, and goes to gather her brother and sister. However, Sverrir, true to his name, seems to have disappeared somewhere.
"<scream>," he calls out, pointing at the rat. His frustration growing, he marches towards Glówen angrily, trying to speak again. "<goats yelling>" The crowd is in on the humor, and are pointing and laughing at the man now...
...and continue to do so, as he throws a wild haymaker at Glówen, stumbling a few steps to the ratfolk's right.
Tyv will attend the Holmganga to see if he can get some alone time with any of the trouble makers, but first he shares his suspicions with Glowen and Havark, then with the Havardr chief. He hopes to see if he can think of any other groups that would benefit from a feud between Ranulfr and Havardr.
Finally, he spends time before the duel circulating the various guests and party goers to get a better sense of the nature of the feud between the two clans and why Ranulfr didn't sail with the others - especially from the Ranulfr perspective. After hearing of Glowen's encounter at the archery tournament and the Ranulfr chief's genuine anger there, Tyv suspects there are more motivations behind things that he knows - and he hates not knowing things.
Havark shows a bit early in preparation. He surveys the area and makes note of his surroundings. He doesn't expect the dual to last long one way or another. He passes the time after by laying under a great oak tree. He makes his blades of energy and tosses them into the air trying to sever single leaves from the tree. A bit child like and carefree. Times like this can be comforting to him as there is no one around to mock or stare at him.
With the kids safely away, Glowen keeps with his plan and now attempts to diffuse the dangerous situation that he created. He turns his back to his attacker and throws his hands high in the air, clapping and urging the crowd to clap too. "Thank you, thank you. Please give around of applause to our gratious friend. He's been a great sport, hasn't he?" He turns with a huge smile and holds out a single hand in a gesture of friendship with the other still in the air, thanking the crowd.
If I have to make a diplomacy check...
As Tyv chats up the locals and not-locals present in Viezla, he learns the following:
- Clan Ránulfr has resented Hávardr's status and wealth for generations. This is something that isn't discussed openly, but is well known - not just Hávardr propoganda.
- In speaking with a few Ránulfr men, Tyv comes to understand that Ásvaldr’s invitation was thought to be some kind of trick. Those of, or allied to Ránulfr point out that the missing expedition lends validity to this thought, while others argue that it was a cowardly act - missing expedition or no.
- No other clans are in a position to gain much from in-fighting. Hávardr has presided over the lands west Three Glaciers Fjord for some time, but Ránulfr lies just east of the fjord, and is the only one with the strength to back up a challenge to Hávardr's rule.
The crowd turns to clapping, but the man, now red with rage, doesn't take the opportunity to save face. "NO!" he yells, and again, "NO! I will not be taken for a halfwit! A plaything of sorcery? No!" The crowd has quieted a bit, but chuckling can still be heard rumbling throughout. "Have you tricks enough to prove any worth? I challenge holmganga against this magick-user!"
A few in the crowd burst laughing at this, while another openly mocks him, but the man pays them no heed, having tuned out all the world but Glówen.
Not uncovering any damning evidence during his ravels, Tyv is content to attend Havark's holmganga and look for opportunities to isolate one of the trouble makers.
"My friend, I am truly sorry for making you so angry. I should not have carried it on for so long. But that challenge is absurd. Please reconsider. Thumping me around the field like a child would only bring you dishonor. Look around, people you trust are telling you to calm down, that anger had stolen your senses."
He'll pause here. If he residents, Glowen will buy him several beers and coax the crowd into cheers for the dude.
If not, he sighs. "I am ashamed to have angered you so and coaxed you into such a dishonorable position. There is no need for holmganga, I yield my honor to you right now. I was wrong to have carried the jest so far." He then bows, kneels, or whatever the proper yielding gesture is.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The hot-headed man calms a bit at this, looking to crowd. "Yes... okay." The crowd gives a slow, unsure applause, and he relaxes his white-knuckled fists.
After a moment, he looks around as if searching for something. "Where did... no matter, it can wait. You may pay for a few rounds of drinks in apology, that will do fine." He extends his arm, "Name's Visäte." After introductions, he follows his new companion to the Market Square to quench their thirst.
Holmganga Soundtrack
Upon arrival, Ørlygr finds a small circle of silver leaves on the ground around Havark. Shields and gear strapped to his back, he crosses to the island in a small raft, and a number begins to gather on the shore to witness. No Hávardr attend, as they feast at their hall, but Jarl Varghoss and his guard are gathered, as well as some folk from allied families on both sides. A young boy holds in his hands a signal horn, playing with it nervously. Tyv has not spotted either of Havark's future competitors, nor the others that he and Glówen dealt with earlier.
Ørlygr exits his raft, arranges his gear, and draws his blade all without saying a word. Finally, he looks up from his occupation, and gazes down at Havark. His smugness overshadows any other emotions he may be feeling as warns, "One last chance to swallow your words, codflesh."
No juggling, Glowen is not done with this guy. He chats the guy up with stories about magic and mischief. After a few drinks, he offers to show him the trick he used. He'll us ghost sound for childish pranks... Make the bar maid fart, food cry out in pain when bitten, buzzing insects, etc. The point is to get the guy comfortable seeing him cast. In addition, he throws in nonsense words and parts of other spells before and after the true spell is cast, in case anyone with Spellcraft is watching. One of the more common components of the fake spells is stuff from charm person.
Eventually, once he thinks it is safe, he'll cast charm person on the guy. He explains that he will make himself look like a very attractive woman... To bag it fails.
If the guy is charmed he tries to get info from him. Who he is with. What are their goals and future targets. See if he can get names.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Better choice... He'll offer to turn the other guy invisible so he can grope the waitresses.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Havark stands. He looks at the leaves on the ground and gives a approving nod before looking to the his challenger. As Ørlygr speaks a massive blade of energy forms into Havark's hand. The blade is fit for a jotun. Havark extends it pointing to the man.
"You speak as if you have something to offer. A níđingrs to the end aren't you? You have a choice for I will accept no apology only your blood. Your choice is to take these last few moments to say good byes to those that will shed tear when you fall, or to come now and fight with what little courage you may have in you."
If such is allowed, Tyv offers to be Havark's shield bearer. ( like to boxing coach at the side of the ring ready to throw in the towel, but with shields)
"You hear that, boy? The shrimp thinks I should bid you farewell. What do you say?" Ølgyr calls to the boy on shore, who's emboldened by his words.
"He'll eat his words, father!" offers up the child.
"Let's waste no time, then," Ølgyr agrees. He nods, and the boy sounds the horn.
Visäte joins Glówen for a few glasses of mead, standing about in the market square. The commotion of the Þing has tapered slightly as various halls hold their feasts, but Viezla remains densely packed. At one point, the crowd swiftly splits and crashes together again as a heavily muscled man rolls a massive barrel along the street.
Visäte scoffs, humoring Glówen's prattling on before he's finally had enough. "Harrr-rumph. I care neither for tricks nor magic. They are Loki's games - not the way of true men. Thank you for the drink rat, but you get along like a serpent in the snow. If there's nothing else, I'll drink with family and felags now."
Tyv sidles on up to Olgyr's boy. This is my first time watching a Holmganga. May I sit here? That fierce warrior there is your father? You must be very proud. He looks very strong. Tell me is he very wise too?