"Absolutely, let me speed you on your way." Then he casts charm person, pointing at his feet and making stepping motions that get faster.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The child nods enthusiastically, "He's the STRONGEST, and the BEST! And he listens to Jarl Varghoss." Feeling that was a satisfactory answer to the last question, he then turns the conversation on Tyv. "Is that tiny man YOUR father? You don't look like him much."
Visäte frowns. "Thank you." As he turns to leave, he mumbles under his breath, "...not any good at his tricks, is he?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Visäte is exasperated by this point. "Glówen, apology accepted, but enough. Leave me be, and enjoy the Þing."
Glowen curses the gods and heads off to see how the others faired.
-Posted with Wayfinder
No shield for Havark.
Havark watches as the man tosses his shield and calls out to his son.
"Foolish."
He sees the mans grip tighten and the fight is on, but Havark is quick and had been planning his first strikes.
"Wotan guide my blade..."
I assume his flat footed is 19 or less so Moderate
Damage is Max of 4d6+16+1d6 for 46 +
If he is still alive:
"Call out now, show that you are a coward and continue to live as one. Attack me in return and know these are the last words you will hear."
If unconscious and dying
"I stopped his bleeding. Come boy collect your father and share to others what happened here."
If just dead:
"Come boy. Your father died as he lived. A fool, but he showed here he was no coward. Honor him. Remember me. Tell those that face me of this."
-Posted with Wayfinder
As Havark activated his stone, Ølgyr grinned and quaffed his own potion.
.
..
.
Ølgyr screams as Havark's blade peels flesh from the man's collar bone to his shoulder. He spares Havark no words before bringing his own blade up in two swift strikes against his foe with the strength he yet possesses.
The tiefling easily sidesteps each blow, and readies his own attack. Ølgyr spits blood dismissively, and gives his son a final, knowing glance.
Havark smiles as he simply steps to the side as the man swings his blade clumsily around. He steps back and then lunges striking swiftly with two blows.
The first blow misses a bit wide but the second cuts deep across the mans stomach and his guts begin to leave his body.
Havark stands and looks down at the body. His blade vanishes and he walks over picking up his backpack. He looks to where Tyv stands with the boy.
"Son of Ølgyr. Come collect your fathers shield and things. Tell others not to be so foolish with their lives."
He then looks to the Jarl and offers a slight nod before making his way back to shore and meeting with Tyv.
"Tyv you ready? I believe the Jarl expected us for dinner."
Tyv looks back between the boy and Havark. Um, okay. He shoots the boy an apologetic look then trots to catch up with Havark.
Was that really necessary? He asks once he draws level with him.The man's son was watching. Couldn't you have just, I don't know, knocked him down or broken his shield or something - Given him a chance to save face and let his son keep his father?
The boy looks to his fallen father, blinking tears and not truly. Suddenly, Varghoss has his hand upon his shoulder. "Your father fought bravely and died braver, child. This is the day he was fated to join Wotan in his Hall, and they will feast every night, from now until Ragnorok. Take pride in him." The boy nods grimly, and does as Havark requests. He gives the tiefling multiple blank stares as he does so, and upon returning to shore, walks off with Varghoss and his retinue.
"Necessary? He was given a number of opportunities to keep his life. I lost my father possibly in part to these cowards not supporting the raid a year ago. If these níđingrs refuse to apologize for this slight and admit they are the níđingrs we believe them to be then Wotan will call them to his hall through my blade. His last foolish action was to throw down his shield and attack me when the battle was already lost. He gave his life as a warrior at the end. Do not cheapen or try and take that away from him. I truthfully didn't expect such honor or bravery from that man at the end. It was an honor to send him to Valhalla."
Tyv shakes his head in bemusement. You mortals don't understand the gift you have within you. That you squander it on things like honour is something I will never understand.
The evening feast is winding down as Glówen, Havark, and Tyv return to Hávardr Hall, the low orange sun casting long shadows past them as they enter. Ásvaldr welcomes them warmly and thanks them. "All my children have returned to me, unscathed and unchallenged, while their tormenters-to-be are set to face a proud Hávardr warrior. Clan Dómarr's loss is unfortunate, but we merely must prove to them the worth we know in our hearts. Though tomorrow brings new difficulties, fate sides with House Hávardr this day. " He leads the hall in the chorused shout, "Come Storm or Shadow, "
Ásvaldr turns to Havark, "Son of Torgrim, I hear you have proved your worth again in the fight against Ølgyr." He laughs and gives a big grin, "With battle-luck such as yours, you are bound to be swarmed with admirers. Do your best to not upset them, or the songs of our children's children will remember your temper before your skill."
..
.
..
Fastvi, meanwhile tells Tyv of the nature of the sword's engraving. "This here? It's no family mark; what you see is the PerÞō rune, tied to Loki and deception. Some warriors learn to unlock the magic inherent in the writing, so a sword such as this would have been made for a trickster." She furrows a worried brow. "Take care, should you see this one again."
The next day, a cloudier, calmer, and better insulated morning awaits the guests of the Ice-Break Þing. As Glówen, Havark, and Tyv arrive to town, a frightened murmur travels through the crowd unexpectedly gathered at Fisherman's Square. Pushing through the crowd, they see the horrible reason for the commotion: Jarl Runí of Clan Dómarr hangs dead, nailed upside-down to the front of a house. His face is twisted in complete terror, and words have been carved into his chest:
..
.
..
- at Field 2.
Havark stands and greets the Jarl as he approaches.
"Kind words, but I have proven nothing but the fierceness of our house. You honor me further Jarl Ásvaldr. While my name may gain praise I fear those that meet me will shun me as always. Wotan certainly has a sense of humor. For what it's worth I prefer to be a chosen among his warriors even if it means being cursed with this appearance."
Day 2
Havark gathers the others close upon seeing the dead Jarl.
"This is not good. Someone seeks war. i don't think any among our house would have escalated to this. I will go watch over Dalla again. I will be withdrawing myself as I have two challenges this day unless they back out after the example I made of Ølgyr. Tyv the Jarl may need your help to smooth or calm things now. Good luck. Call for me or find me if you need my help."
With that Havark will head to the Longsword duel's to meet and watch over Dalla.
At the body, "Boreas be cursed, who would do such thing!?" He reads the words of loud, "That is a perversion of our . Even Loki would not spread dissent like this. Some evil is afoot and threatens everyone. ". After a second, "do not leave him like that, take him down and give him the honor he disserves"
He then starts working the crowd, trying to find answers. Did anyone see it happen? Who last saw him? What of his guards and family?
-Posted with Wayfinder
Tyv stares at the body, perplexed. Killing for self defence, or...curiosity he understood. This seemed like something else though, and he could not fathom it. He stood by quietly until the crowds began to disperse. He had wanted to try skidder racing - it sounded like great fun - but with this murder he thought he should maybe attend the council instead. But that did not sound like fun. As his mercurial nature warred with his growing sense of forboding, he asked Glowen for advice. Whisker-friend. Where are you going to spend the morning? Should I go with you?
if Glowen doesn't get any leads, he says come to the council meeting. If he does, I don't know yet.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Other men of Clan Dómarr nod at the obvious suggestion, and begin working to take the Jarl's body away. Sifting through the crowd, Glówen learns that Runí's huskarl companions had been with the Jarl through the night, and the attack came just before dawn. Dread wells in the ratfolk's stomach as he hears the familiar description of frozen walking corpses too terrifying to behold. The huskarls say there were scared off by the frights, and upon returning, found the Jarl like this as the frights fled into the night. Dómarr's trackers have already searched the area: there is no trace these creatures were ever here. Forunately, no one else was injured or killed in the attack.
We definitely need to attend the council meeting today, but Glowen wants to talk to our Jarl to be clear on what information we want to release and see if those birds came back.
"Yes, my scary little friend, please come to the council meeting."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Speaking to Jarl Ásvaldr before they head in, Glówen & Tyv and Tyv are relayed his thoughts: "No, Fastvi's raven hasn't returned yet, though I hope it will soon. I've left instructions to a thrall of mind to find me when it returns. Regarding the frights and the tower, I believe that discretion is our key. With the twisted motto carved on poor Runí, Hávardr only stands to lose face in the public eye." He stops here, and muses a bit. "However, I worry what worse things will happen without better information. We may not be able to wait for Hávardr's librarian."
As the morning's duels get underway, it provides a welcome distraction from the unsettling find in the fisherman's square. The first fight of the second day proves interesting, as two non-humans square off. One is a trollkin, a tribal people descended from humanoids mixed with the blood of trolls, ogres, and even some of the more malignant fey, and he faces against a dwarf that wears a shining crimson helm and little else. They begin their bout, and Dalla puts her hand against Havark's shoulder, gently pushing him to face her. "Havark, I owe you an apology. My father was right to assign to me a protector, and he was also right in choosing you. I heard of your holmganga with Ølgyr, and how a man twice your size never stood a chance. I can't help that those, pitiful, double-crossing Ránulfr boil my blood so, but..." she trails off, breaking eye contact. "With what happened to Dómarr's Jarl, there is no denying that real danger threatens us all."
"I can't speak of what may come, and I lack the words to provide comfort for you. Know that my service is my honor and my life is to protect yours and your siblings while I serve your father. He is proud of you and does not think you weak, but as you see there are things here beyond the knowing of all of us. I do not like cutting down warriors that can help. Ølgyr's sword will be missed if things get bad here, but that is for others to figure out. Now focus on your fight ahead."
Dalla eyes the tiefling with curiousity. "You are stranger even than you look. Called Ølgyr a níđingr until the moment you slew him, and now you mourn his loss." She takes off a thick fur coat and stretches her lean arms before taking some swings with her practice sword. "He schemed as surely as all Ránulfr, no?" Red curls dance in time as her blade dissects the air.
"Taking a life is not an easy thing, I do my duty and what I must for your father and his house. Ølgyr had no choice in the matters of last year. It was his Jarl's choice to not send warriors and for this he has earned the title of níđingr for all of his house. It is easy to show strength against a small, weak, strange looking outcast as myself. When he showed courage was the moment he knew he was bested as my blade cut his belly. I gave him one last chance and yet he stood defiant. He gave his life to prove his worth and for that I will remember him. Let us not speak any further of this."
He takes notice of her swings.
"You are clumsy. You swing like a man but lack the strength. Use your speed. Like this." He stands and shows her a stance and a few moves.
"Remember while we revere strength there are always those like me that prove true strength is in more then how much you can lift."
No further questions
-Posted with Wayfinder
Another council proceeds then after Glówen, Tyv, and the jarl head inside. Nearly as full of a room as it was yesterday, the commotion within has taken a somber and subdued mood. A new group of people stand to bring forth their individual disputes, and little of it is interesting. That is, until Tyv hears a familiar croon, speaking in low tones. "My name is Bárðr, and I've come to warn you all of a witch-child!"
A hush takes the hall hostage, and Varghoss, absently scratching at his neck scars, gives him a nod. "Tell us what further troubles this year's Þing has brought."
"It was yesterday, after the dogsled races. I heard that Eyvindr had won the contest, so I sought out to congratulate the Hávardr scion on his great win, when another boy approached us. The newcomer turned to a terrible thing, all claws and needles, and said he was going to steal my breath!" Another gasp. "He bewitched the crowd and myself, and his enchantment would let none move! Oh, how I feared for Eyvindr's safety. That's when the witch-boy told me his name: Andetag."
A voice called out from somewhere else in the room. "That's not what happened, I was right-"
Varghoss holds a hand up to stop him. "Let him finish his tale. When he is done, then you can call him a liar if you wish."
Bárðr takes a deep breath, exhales, and then continues. "I strained to overcome his magicks, and at once I succeeded. I pushed the twisted thing down, and drew my sword, but the rest there remained transfixed! I knew I could not slay them, but they were yet at his beck and call. So I surrendered my blade and fled." He looks around, scanning the room nervously. "I fear many are still under his spell, but I knew if I brought it to you, Jarl Varghoss, in front of the whole council, that the truth could be seen for what it is, and the foul thing flushed out and destroyed!"
She breaks her practice for a moment to regard Havark, and pulls a corner of her lip taut in a studied smirk. "I see."
As she continues her practice, Dalla quickly grows tired of Havark's unsolicited advice and stops. "Better to not tire myself." Leaning on her sword, her eyes focus on something distant for a moment, and a mischievous twinkle appears just before she raises her hand high and waves. "Tyri, hey Tyri!"
Dalla's sister navigates the crowd over to where she and Havark stand. Tyri's annoyance is written all over her face. "Yes, Dalla?"
Dalla grins menacingly. "You know how you've been wanting more practice with your swordsmanship? Well it just so happens that Havark here is a great fighter and an even better teacher!" Shoving her practice blade into Tyri's grasp, she grins again, this time at Havark. "Well, go on. Show her! My fight's coming up next, so I'm going to wait by the dueling grounds." At any objection Havark offers: "Don't worry, I'll stay right where you can see me. May Wotan's wisdom guide your teachings!"
"Listen girl. I am not here to amuse your or do as you wish. My service is to your father and as extension to protect his children. Yes go watch learn and prepare for your fight." He pauses and stares at her a moment before turning to Tyri.
"Tyri, another time. Tension is high at the moment. Come sit let us watch Dalla display her skill."
He offers a seat before sitting back and keeping an eye on Dalla.
Ooh, this sounds fun! A witch- child? I've never met one of those. I wonder who he's talking about...oh!
Tyv listens to Bardr's tale, flattered that he made such an impression and excited to rise to the challenge of this new name-calling game.
I wish someone would steal this braggart's breath, Tyv shouts out. Then he couldn't keep spouting these preposterous lies! There were many present who witnessed this so called bewitching. Lets hear what really happened from someone who doesn't drop their sword and flee from nursery rhyme bogymen
-Posted with Wayfinder
Nope. He is too surprised to say anything.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Dalla ignores Havark as she walks away, while Tyri nods in somber agreement with him. "Dalla thinks she's funny. She's really just a bully." She drops the wooden sword in the snow, adding, "And so careless with her things."
Dalla's duel is against another dwarf - a fairly young one, reckoning by the man's shorter beard. Their longsword skill is quite evenly matched, each swing either parried or traded in turn. After a few minutes though, it becomes clear that Dalla doesn't have the stamina to keep up with her competitor, and her attacks turn reckless before a sharp blow to her gut knocks her off her feet. She yields gracefully, congratulates her opponent while collecting herself, and walks back over to her sister and Havark. Feigning distraction, she focuses her eyes in the distance. "Well, that's that. What now?"
Bárðr turns, and the rest of the hall follows the source of the sound. "That's him!" Varghoss takes a moment before recognizing Tyv from yesterday's holmganga, and he seems surprised. His eyes flash over to Glówen, and it stalls him further as the puzzle pieces fall into place.
The voice from before earlier speaks up again. It's an older man, his rotund gut perched precariously on scrawny legs. "I was there! Sure, the boy looked frightening, but... I believed it a performance for the crowd. The rat was there too, and I'm no stranger to wizardly arts - he was maintaining an illusion. We were entertained, not bewitched!." He stops for a moment to scratch his head frantically. He picks something unknown from it, and studies it as he resumes. "In fact, I was sure it was a performance. They even collected the man's sword for him when it was done."
Jarl Ásvaldr carries concern on his face, but says nothing as Varghoss probes Tyv. "Well, Andetag, the witness here claims that Bárðr lies about much of this tale, but admits himself that he didn't understand what took place. Since you carry questions Bárðr's honesty and honor, as well as his sword, why don't you tell us what happened?"
It is much as the elder says, master Varghoss. The esteemed Bardr here approached us after the race. He has an odd way of offering congratulations for he began immediately spouting lies and untruths in the face of my friend Eyvindr. I at first assumed he was of clan Ranulfr and was confused why someone from that august clan would be so rude. Then I noted that Bardr, then as now, bore no clan insignia of any kind, my confusion deepened. Who was rthis loud, rude, and apparently homeless man?
When I stepped in and pointed out the humour in some of his more... erroneous claims, he went so far as to threaten violence to mere children. I was taught that Holmganga was an esteemed tradition - a test of honour between worthy opponents - not a tool for bullies and braggarts. When I told Mr Bardr as much, he insulted my father, and well, Here Tyv pauses and shrugs.
It was clear Bardr would not be dissuaded from violence, so I tried to distract him from his course by telling a few children's stories from my youngest days. Another shrug, sheepish this time. I didn't expect him to take them quite so seriously. I haven't seen a grown man run quite so quickly, or so...damply (Tyv pantomimes pulling soiled breeches away from his skin), from a bedtime fable before. I apologize to Mr Bardr for any embarrassment, but I assure you, there was no bewitching or transfixing, and certainly no, um, how did you put it? Needles?
Glowen chimes in, "Indeed. I witnessed the event and even tossed in a few illusionary sounds of my own, to help set the mood." At this point he recreates the spooky sounds he used to aid Tyv back then. "Sound familiar? Harmless illusions." Before the spell ends, he throws in some other sounds, around the edges of the spell's reach. A few "Ahhhh" sounds, like someone finally understanding something. Plus a few giggles and snickers centered around Bardr.
The crowd listens raptly to Tyv's tale, laughing at some turns and applauding at others - Glówen's spell touches each bit with the right amount of emphasis. Looking around, it is clear that they've won the crowd's heart. Bárðr, to his credit, maintains his ruse of feigned worry and fright, and Ásvaldr remains carefully neutral, but gives a slight nod to the Prince of Dolls.
Varghoss takes a step forward. "Andetag, you are well-spoken for one so young. Remember as you age, that flowery words can sweeten truth's aroma - never cover the stench of lies. But the opinion of the council backs your story, and so must I. Now I have questions for Bárðr.
"On the first, why would you declare Ránulfr lineage when you claim no such blood? And on the second, why did you challenge the boy?"
Bárðr stares a burning hatred at Tyv for a full second before turning to Varghoss. "Ránulfr courage is well-known. It was a deception, but I had little choice - my family is small, much smaller now, and few know its name, but I needed to be taken seriously. Many years before, Ásvaldr came with his clan to raid the food stores of my villa, and in the ensuing battle, my twin brother was slain by his very hands. Do you remember my face, Ásvaldr?"
Ásvaldr studies the man for a few moments before releasing a slow nod. "I sought to hurt his family the way he hurt mine."
Varghoss considers, "Yours is noble cause, but your tactics are cowardly, and that cannot go unpunished." Raising his voice now, "Let my ruling be known: Bárðr is to drop the matter against Jarl Ásvaldr, losing his right to recompense when he acted in the manner of a níđingr. For this, he should be outlawed." He lets the gravity of the moment hang before speaking again. "However, in bringing his concern to the council, owning up to his cowardice, and given a chance to learn the error of his ways, I believe he may yet prove his worth. The sword given to Andetag should prove weregild enough, but Bárðr deserve a reminder of what transpired here. Step forward, little one." Varghoss pulls a wicked curved blade from his hip and hands it to Tyv before violently ripping the shirts off of Bárðr. "Leave the mark of your choosing on this one, 'Breath-Stealer,' so that he may never forget the day when he threatened one boy and slandered a second."
Tyv steps forward and accepts the knife. He screws his face up in concentration for a moment then draws two short parallel lines into Bardr's chest with the blade. Two marks - one for the boy you threatened and one for the boy you slandered. Ty raises the blade again and carves a third mark below the first two. And under them a crescent moon - to remind you of the fleeting folly of vengeance and the fear of the night-things that proved your undoing.
Bardr stands white faced with clenched teeth as Tyv leans in close and whispers, Not all challenges are fought with blades of steel, child of Loki, but you knew that when you started this didn't you? Thus our Holgmagna concludes
Tyv makes to step back but then adds a skewed version of the words Havark spoke to him upon Olgyr's death. You gave your dignity and your honour to prove your worth and for that I will remember you - for a while at least.
-Posted with Wayfinder
As Tyv carves his marks, Varghoss points to one of his thralls and gestures at Bárðr. The thrall goes to the front of the hall and digs through a bag, returning with some kind of ground-up herb. A few stifled snickers travel through the hall as the mark is completed, at which point Varghoss rubs the powder into Bárðr's wounds - causing the man to finally grunt in pain, but though he says nothing. "The design is... interesting," comments Varghoss. "This mixture will ensure that the wounds scar." The Ránulfr Jarl then retrieves his blade from Tyv, and sends the two back to their seats. Bárðr wears an angry shame on his face, refusing to make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the meeting.
"Now then. If there are no other concerns..." Varghoss gives the invitation a few seconds to breathe before moving forward. "Then we should discuss Runí Audunson's passing. It is an unfortunate and terrible blow to his clan, and even more unfortunate that his huskarls be so overcome with nīþ as to abandon him in his final battle. To be found like that is a terrible fate." He shakes his head, then gestures to a woman seated nearby, who is holding a bit of her cheek between her teeth. "With the blessing of Lady Hedvig and the backing of the council, I would declare these men outlaws in the lands of Three Glaciers Fjord." She agrees, and the other jarls nod and grumble their consensus, with only Ásvaldr abstaining.
"Then it is done." Varghoss pauses again, and then adds, "The words carved into Runí call to mind the Clan Hávardr, but acting on little information invites a steep and reckless danger. As such, any who would know more of these strange attackers should speak up in defense of our hospitality. Let this be known throughout Viezla when you leave."