Varghoss surveys the room, satisfied that his message was understood. He then whirls, drawing his longsword and leveling it towards the Hávardr Jarl. "Now I must speak with Ásvaldr! You have earned patience enough from me, jarl. Even as you send Havark to spread lies throughout the Þing, even as men like Bárðr think they can play Ránulfr yet act as cowards, you admit no part in the events that unfold. I will suffer your treachery no longer... I challenge holmganga."
Ásvaldr laughs now, breaking the seriousness he's brought to the council so far. "So desperate to clean the sullied Ránulfr name that you'll draw your blood for polish? Varghoss, for a year I've named you as the níðingr I know you are, but today is the first I've thought you a fool." He wears a cocky grin, shaking his head as he accepts. "Very well. This spring, Vætta Isle shall run slick with the viscera of Ránulfr dogs."
The Ránulfr jarl glowers. "Generous as I am, I'll give you two days to deliver an apology. If you start now, you may finish in enough time to save your life."
The council adjourns, and fevered excitement battles with somber moods. "Truly, this Þing will be recalled in sagas till Ragnarok," whispers one. "Someone here walks with gæfa; the Norns are considering us carefully," confides another.
"Well done Dalla, no shame or dishonor when you are bested, just reason and drive to make yourself better. I trust you will train harder now. I could use a drink. I have two níđingrs to meet in holmganga today. It would be a shame if I were to go to Valhalla today with no mead in my belly. Let us go watch the finals of the arm wrestling and fill our bellies."
"Right," responds Dalla. She flips her hair behind her shoulders, and with her sister follows Havark in his pursuit of mead. "Hey Tyri, what did you do with my sword?"
The last hours of the greatsword competition shows an interesting divergence from the longsword: all of the finalists are dwarves, with the exception of one half-orc. While close to a third of the souls in attendance of the Ice-Break Þing have been dwarves, they were scarcely represented in the longsword duels. Not so here.
After a short while of watching, Tyri's face lights up as she nudges Dalla and Havark, pointing and speak, "Hey! There's Goat-Throat! That's the one Glówen played tricks on to distract at the archery competition yesterday." Only fourteen years of age, Tyri apparently hasn't learned how well her voice carries, and Visäte turns to look and see who speaks. He walks over with a scowl.
"Your rat-friend thinks the games of Loki a good time. It would seem you agree. A harmless 'distraction,' was it?" He stares for a few moments silently.
"Careful in who and how you address the daughter of the Jarl Asvaldr Goat Throat. She is a young girl." He says being a man of only 20 years himself.
"Now move on and enjoy the competition."
Visäte opens his mouth ready to spit something venomous out, but stops just short as his eyes widen in recognition. "It's Havark, right? Thanks for the good advice. I'll do just that." He moves to stand elsewhere for the rest of the competition, and a brisk step gets him there.
Havark gives a nod as the man thinks to keep his words to himself. He watches the competition and the girls. Mostly watching to make sure no one is taking notice of them even being there. He keeps to himself unless spoken to by the girls. In which case his answers are blunt and short.
True to her name, Tyv finds Lady Gríma a short distance outside of the hall returning her blades to her scabbards. She is in the midst of chiding Varghoss. "Not that it wasn't great theater, but it's a matter of respect. From what I see, no one else is daring to stand up to you about this, but I will: don't bring your weapons of war into the hall again."
Varghoss snorts in response. "It must have slipped my mind, Twin-Blades. It won't happen again." He walks off, and the leader of Clan Sigurđr maintains a stern glare for a few moments before visibly relaxing.
She turns to see Tyv looking to her, "Hello, Andetag, our highlight of the council this morning! You made a good choice with that message you left for Bárðr. Now I'm unsure that I'd want to know why you seek me out, or what 'great terrors' you plan to inflict on me this morning!" she says with a wink.
Tyv smiles at Lady Grima and gives a self depreciating chuckle. Only what terrors that can be found in a bright festival morning - thus limited to bleary eyes and perhaps a swollen head from too much mead the night before.
It is good to see someone standing tall to Varghoss. I take it that means Sigurdr still stands shoulder to shoulder with Havardr? What are your thoughts on this challenge that Varghoss has called? And I'd be gratefull to hear you musings on this foul murder. Nothing about it sits right with me.
She smiles warmly, "We do - Sigurđr calls House Hávardr our felags, and they have long-guarded the northern passes beside our clan's home. Unfortunate it is that we've brought maybe twenty fighting folk to Viezla this spring, but should it come to a feud, we will stand beside you.
"As far as Varghoss's challenge..." she starts, then thinks for a moment. "Well, he certainly has the right to it, and I'd say even justified in doing so. But why now? I'd thought he'd chew a lip to spit blood in Ásvaldr's face the moment he saw him, but he instead tolerates the man a whole day, and THEN challenges holmganga? I'd call it deliberate, not passionate. Feels wrong." She shakes her head.
"Poor Runí; it's no way for a warrior to die. He will be missed dearly, and I join Dómarr in grieving." She agrees to share her thoughts, and the smile this time is sympathetic. "It sits poorly with me as well. The restless dead described by his huskarls sounds like an old tale I know... tell me Andetag, are you familiar with the legends surrounding 'frights'?"
Tyv chuckles. I am familiar with many a legend , oh Lady of the Fierce Gaze, and this sounds like one I would enjoy. Please, tell me of these frights.
As Grima nears the end of the tale, Tyv face lights up with dawning and he interrupts. Wait...what? His huskarls witnessed something of the murder? Why weren't they brought to speak at the council? And now they have been exiled - by Varghoss of course! Excuse me Lady Grima, I would speak with these men before they disappear entirely.
Tyv scampers off to find Runi's exiled guards before they leave the thing.
Twin-Blades leans in conspiratorially, "It’s said that when winter becomes most bleak, undead called ‘frights’ rise to terrify others to death. They yearn to destroy whatever they loved in life, even entire clans. They are cunning, patient, and make deals with níđingrs to capture their kin." At Tyv's interruption, she starts to explain, "Yes, the níđlings left their jarl in his..." but gives up, as Tyv runs off in search of his own answers.
He soon finds the huskarls (five of them) on the western edge of town. Their faces downcast, they have collected as much of their belongings as they can onto a two small wooden sleds and their backpack. When they see the Prince of Dolls arrive, one looks up. "Yes boy? Come to throw rocks, hidden in clumps of snow? Go ahead then." Cheers echo across Viezla as if in response; the ice-skidder race has found its first-place winner.
Peace sirs he calls out, holding up a hand as he catches his breath. I've not come to judge or ridicule.
Tyv walks closer to the group and says, I see before me five strong warriors who have been true to Domarr their whole lives. I have trouble believing the story being spun of the events leading to Runni's death. I have heard the Ranulfr version. I would hear yours.
They look to one another quizzically. The same man speaks up again, "What did the Varghoss say? That we fled our jarl in his hour of need, unable to quell the níđ hidden in our spirits all along? Did he say that the manner in which Runí was found brings shame to the entire clan? Did he speak of us, declaring us to be worse than dirt, or rats, or snakes?" His voice wavers now, and he's fighting back tears as he nearly yells, "All this is true and more! Perhaps we were brave warriors once, but no longer!"
He looks down, letting his auburn hair fall in front of his face, and he regains some control over his emotions. "We've done enough to dishonor Dómarr, and will do no more. If you've come seeking lies with which to save my worthless hide, I have none to offer." The others nod in agreement.
Worms, I think it was actually. He is a little taken aback at the speakers vehemence - and his despair. No matter how long he dwelt amongst them, Tyv feared he would never understand these proud and fragile northmen.
I come for truth, and I have no interest in your hide, worthless or otherwise. Hi eyes wander as he gives voice to memory.Gaunt skeletal figures. Skin stretched tight over a face frozen in a rictus of horror. Fear welling up from so deep inside you that you can't remember your own name and the only thing that matters is to run.
His eyes snap back to the here and now and he gazes gravely at the leader of the group. Fear and shame feed on your silence. Speak your truth to one who has shared it, men of Domarr.
The huskarls freeze as Tyv recalls the description of the frights; unfortunately, they seem to have received it as a suggestion of menace rather than sympathy. Another speaks up, "How do you...? No, I want no part in this. Spring is nearly upon us, we'll take our chances with the cold. Leave us be, odd child."
So be it says sadly and leaves the huskarls to their fate.
Tyv considers attending some of the other events , but ultimately their job is to keep an eye on Asvardr's children and since Havark will not be in a position to do that while he fights, Tyv accomonies the Havark brood.
When he has a moment alone with the dour warrior, he shares his growing concern over the connection between Varghoss and the frights in a single breathless run-on sentence. So, the stories go that the frights of old would strike deals with cowards to lure their mutual enemies into traps, and now Runni is dead, and rumors float around the thing that it was some horrifying dead things that did it. Runni's huskarls wouldn't confirm it, but I just know they saw the frights too, and we know the frights we fought back in the tower have some ancient grudge with the Havardr, and we didn't exactly lock them in there, and then there's the message over Runni's corpse, so what if, like, Varghos and the frights are working together - what if the frights were responsible for the disappearance of all those warriors last year and Varghoss knew because he was working with the frights and that's why he didn't send his own men, and now he's going to do something horrible at his Holmanga with Asvardr to seal the deal?!?
"Then it will fall to us. Remember they have no hold over you if you don't look upon them. You will have to keep the children safe if this happens. If your thoughts are correct and they do show then his men will be safe from them but not from me. After I deal with them I will destroy these undead. That is all assuming you are correct on what you have gathered. Have you let any other know of this?"
Erm, well, no. I mean, who would believe me?
Through the afternoon Tyv will keep an eye open for a chance to toalk to Red Beard or One-eye. He also wants to talk to Runni's widow.
After finishing the meal and mead, Havark, Dalla, and Tyri make their way to the shores of Lake Ætla. Nearly the first ones there, it doesn't hold true for long as the other Hávardr scions, Tyv, and Varghoss arrive shortly there after. In total, perhaps 80 people have come to watch the holmgangas today. The woman with shimmering green eyes and the man of busted-nose arrived around the time that Tyv did, and the woman is the first to step up to Havark. She wears a hard expression as she address the tiefling, "Torgrimson. I'm told that the bigger they are, the harder they fall before you. That you won't play that advantage today: we are of a similar build." She then raises her voice enough to grab the attention of those nearby. "Care to rephrase, then, what you said to me yesterday?"
Meanwhile, before Tyv gets even a second to look for another jarl or Runí's widow, Eyvindr is immediately upon him with questions! "Tyv, Tyv! I heard you watched Havark fight Ølgyr. Did Havark really cut him right in half? That's so crazy! Where's his sword? Who is he fighting today?" Then in the same breath but quieter, "And what made his skin like that?"
Shhh...he's a little sensitive about that. Tyv looks around conspiratorially, then continues in a whisper. There once was a crocodile that dreamed he was a man and one day he... Oh look they're starting.
"Rephrase?" He finally looks up as until now he blankly stared off as if daydreaming. His eyes meet hers.
"Yes I will rephrase." He begins to speak loudly.
He then points out to the man with the broken nose. As he does his massive blade forms in his hand.
He finally looks back to the woman.
"You hide it well, but I can see Ørlygr was twice the warrior you are. You respected, nay revered him among your house. You speak boastfully now as you tremble and wonder how. How did this devil of a man with no strength best him? Tuck tail now. Run admit that your house is and will be known as nidingrs and keep your life. Or attack and let time forget you as the only name that will be spoken from this day is mine. As time only remembers the great warriors."
The two listen as Havark talks, and each gives no more than a fleeting glance to Havark's forming blade. When he then suggests dueling both of them at once though, their expressions turn to horror as gasps travel through the crowd. While the bloodied man is stunned speechless as he continues, the shield maiden interjects, "What do you think us, children? Easily bullied into staining our honor? No. We are warriors of the north and will settle for no less than true holmganga."
Then the man speaks, "If that doesn't satisfy your bloodlust, son of Torgrim, just attack us both now. Let those gathered split your throat once they see you for the rabid animal you are."
As Havark gives his last offer to the woman, her eyes blazing even brighter with emotion as she leans forward and speaks low enough for only the tiefling to hear, "You may be a formidable fighter, Havark, but you speak of fear as one does an old friend. What frightens you, then?" She turns without waiting for an answer, and begins to load her dueling gear onto a small pinewood raft.
... and so the crocodile decided he would rather be a crocodile than a man after all.
Tyv leaned back and waited for Eyvinder to nod in understanding. Instead the boy wore a mystified expression, and after a moment of silence asked, {b]What's a crocodile[/b]
Sigh, never mind that. Come use your sharp eyes to help me find some interesting people. Do you see any red bears or one-eyed jarls in the crowd? A grieving widow perhaps?
"I expected as such. Come then let this be settled. I have no bloodlust to satisfy. You see I am blessed by Wotan. My blade is the destroyer of men and beast. Know that you may not have the opportunity to drop your shield before the darkness of death comes for you."
Havark takes his last stone out as he gains the great cunning and awareness of the Owl(+4 to Wis).
"What do I fear?" He laughs. "I stood and drew blood from the Firth Monster while my companions made it to safety. I cut down undead horrors that made fearless men weep. My only fear is that I don't have the ability to protect the honor of my Jarl. I will do my best to keep you alive once you are cut down, but if Wotan calls for you this day meet his call with the courage you show here."
Havark takes his last stone out as he gains the great cunning and awareness of the Owl(+4 to Wis).
The woman shakes her head, strapping on a shield & drawing her blade. "How sentimental. The Firth monster, though? That may be the most outrageous lie I've ever heard." She turns to face Havark, sizing him up and down one last time. She nods to a new boy in the crowd. The horn blares.
Soundtrack - Holmganga 2: Nordic Boogaloo
"Yes, okay. I can help." Eyvindr & Tyv start looking around as Havark opens with his first assault. They walk down the length of the crowd and halfway back again before Eyvindr finally points him out to the Cobwebbed Child, "Hey, there's a man with lots of red hair, and he looks scary like a bear. Is that who you mean?" Sure enough, it's the impossibly-hairy Jarl Glúmr Hróaldurson of Clan Ásbojorn, standing next to Varghoss and watching the duel with interest.
Havark simply smirks and ignores her remark about his statement being a lie. His posture sinks as he prepares for the horn to sound. Upon the ready dirt and debris stir from the ground with the explosion of force from his legs as he lunges through the air.
This show of speed is only matched by the two quick strikes that lash out at his surprised opponent.
Flurry Strike:
Havark looks down upon the body of the woman and shake his head before looking to the man.
AC: 26 if first attack missed and she survived the damage of the second.
"Start your journey over. Let us be done with this. I will do what I can to keep her alive."
He kneels and is able to stop the blood loss if she still has a pulse. He then regains his focus(Maneuvers as the man approaches or decides to cut tail and run)
Two parallel gashes split open across the woman's chest in the wake of Havark's blade, and her eyes go wide in shock before she collapses forward wordlessly. Onlookers only begin to register that the fight is over as Havark moves quickly to bind the wounds, and to her fortune it's enough to keep her on this side of death's veil. The crowd rumbles with a mixture of cheers and jeers as the surprise wears off.
Havark's next competitor takes a raft over with a priest of Baldur, who lays his hands on the fallen challenger and performs a benediction in his god's name. She awakens as her wounds partially dissolve, and she takes the same raft back with the priest. A brief moment of eye-contact conveys to Havark a certain warmness - whether its source is respect or gratitude is hard to say.
The broken-nose man seems at a loss for bravado now: he instead whispers prayers to Donar as he straps his shield and draws a small token from his pouch. Holding it ready like a weapon, he speaks aloud, "יקירי ריקוד", and it transforms into a large, brown-leather whip. When the two warriors indicate their readiness to the shore, again, a horn blows.
Havark takes notice as the priest boards the raft. He waves him in acceptance.
"Hurry, she is stable but could use further aid." He then shakes his head in disbelief.
He looks to the man as he crosses.
"What do you hope to prove. That you too can stand before the demon and live? Wotan guides my blade and may not see to save you as he did the woman. There is no loss in honor in not fighting your better. Choose now."
He takes a moment to focus an regather his abilities as the two cross. Once they are on shore he waits to see if the man still wishes to fight.
Havark nods and acknowledges the bravery of the man. He offers a prayer to Wotan for his protection and that of the man as he charges forward. He uses the same charge and attack he bested Ørlygr with
Moderate Crit: Delayed Wound: Max damage and Target takes Bleed Damage equal to Damage received.
Damage=28 then he Bleeds 28 on his turn.
Havark bends to check the man but there is an extreme amount of blood pooling around him. He stands and looks to the priest shaking his head to say it is too late. He will then motion for those that are to care for the man to come over as he makes his way back to the land. He motions to Tyv to meet him.
"I don't have the words to speak to this Jarl, but ask him how many more he will send to the slaughter. The children of Jarl Asvaldr are off limits and under my protection. Make sure he knows. I am off to have some mead."
If nothing else is in need of his attention he motions for the Children to come with him as they give thanks to Wotan for his protection.
Tyv waives Eyvinder back to his siblings then strolls on up beside Red Bear(d) and Varghoss. He nods to them companionably as they watch the duels.
He cringes and winces in sympathy as Havark cuts down the two challengers in rapid succession. Well Jarl Hróaldurson, I guess its a good thing he's on our side, eh?
Tyv's expression becomes somber as he continues. Such a waste though, Northmen killing northmen like this. He lifts a hand to forsestall the inevitable rebuke of "honour" and "glory" ad says, Oh I know, honour must be satisfied. But still, wasteful; and all because supposedly honourable warriors feel like bullying children. You have children right Jarl Hróaldurson? Its a good thing there are truly honorable men like Havark there to ensure they can enjoy the Thingfreely without being harassed.
Tyv clicks his teeth and takes a deep breath. Yes, its a real shame. Two less warriors standing to protect the north - and what with all this talk of appararitions and ghouls prowling the night. No, we should be standing shoulder against whatever is out there, not weakening ourselves by spilling each other's blood over petty squabbles.
Tyv stops and has the decency to look embarrassed. Oh, not that I think your Holmganga with the lord Havardr is petty, lord Varghoss - I'm sure its necessary and will win you both much honour.
Tyv notices the look between the female warrior and the boy on shore and decides he should talk with the lad after he is done here with the Jarls.
He finishes his prayer and responds grimly, "We both know that the North has no use for the weak or cowardly, but I won't bear the shame of níđ. My fate rests with this island, but here, I do spurn Eljudnir to earn my place in Valhalla." He cracks the whip to test the leather. "Let's waste no time."
Havark lunges forward, cleaving through the front of the man in a single strike. He stumbles back, grabbing at his stomach and smiling. "Perhaps you're..." he starts, but is surprised to find blood cascading from his mouth as his guts quickly flow past the hand at his waist. His eyes roll back into his head, and he's dead before he hits the ground.
..
.
..
"On our side? Who might you be?" says a gravely voice from somewhere with the mass of carrot-coloured hair. "I... Yes, I have children, though I hardly see... They have a right to reclaim..." he sputters, unable to keep up with Tyv bouncing from subject to subject.
Varghoss shoots a look as Tyv offends-and-then-unoffends the Ránulfr jarl, and remarks mostly to himself, "Lord Varghoss? It has a certain ring..."
Red Beard nods to Varghoss. "If you'll excuse me, I believe this young man would like a word." Pulling away from the main crowd (which is itself dispersing in light of the day's holmgangas coming to resolution), he relates his feelings to Tyv. "I don't believe that Hávardr will lead Ásbjorn to glory. Ásvaldr called Ránulfr níđingr without reason, so the gods broke Hávardr. Ránulfr’s vengeance will be righteous."
But what if it was with reason? What if it was true? You heard Varghoss back there. He salivates at the thought of personal power, and will take his clan - and those that follow him - down any path that leads to it, regardless of cost to honour or who lies ruined in his wake. Make wise choices Jarl Hroadurson, lest Asbojorn end broken and cast aside at the side of that path.
Tyv begins to walk away, then turns for one final comment. Oh and as to who's side Havark fights for - well, the side of the living of course. The dead are coming Jarl Hroadurson, and Varghoss invites them to our door.
With a final grin to Red Beard, Tyv trots off into the crowd to catch up with Havark and the children.
"I have better things to do than listen to drivel. Perhaps speak to me of wisdom once you have tasted true battle." Red Beard shakes his head in disbelief and dismissal, and soon disappears into the village.
The crowd disperses back in the village, and Havark, Tyv and the children make their way to have an early meal. A young man, perhaps nineteen, approaches them in the main square, holding a rolled parchment forth. "The rat charged me with delivering this to either one of you."
It is signed with a rat print pierced by a silver line.
Oooh! Never able to resist a good cacophony, Tyv leaves the children in Havark's care and rushes forward with the crowd to see what all the fuss is about.
"The longship races are over there. What say you." He looks to the Jarls children.
"Shall we see what the excitement is about or continue to the hall."
The children nod enthusiastically and beat their feat behind Havark and Tyv. As they reach the fjord's shore, they hear snippets of conversation:
"Is there any hope-"
"-just gave birth to their son."
"How far are the other ships?"
Pushing pass the crowd, there seems to be some action with the longships, but they're too far out to make out any details with the naked eye. Fate would have it though that find themselves standing next to Jarl Hrókr 'One-Eye' Kolurson, who, despite his name, has both eyes. The barrel-chested jarl looks at Havark with a bit of disbelief. "I thought it ridiculous boasting, what you said during holmganga, but..." He hands Havark a spyglass and points, then looks to Tyv. "You saw it, didn't you?"
As each peers through the spyglass in turn, they see the source of the distress: far out in the open waters of the Three Glaciers Fjord, the Firth monster is attacking a ship. Already in battered into many pieces and all hands thrown over board, it is clear that any not already dead soon will be. The other ships, meanwhile, seem to be rowing frantically to get clear.
After Havark and Tyv finish with it, Eyvindr is chomping at the bit. "Let me see, let me see!" Soon, his younger siblings join his pleading, while the elder three are quiet, understanding by way of context that they may not want to see.
Havark takes the spyglass and looks out. He shakes his head before passing the glass.
"Go Jarl Hrókr. Gather your people and get to high ground."
He then looks to the children.
"I must find and make sure your father makes it out safe. Go with Jarl Hrókr, help him and alert all to get to safety. Come Tyv there is little time."
Assuming the Jarl is at his hall that is where Havark takes off for.