Round 2 Init 7
HP = -1/10
AC = 16
Weapon Equipped = None
Speed = 30'
Bardic Performance Left = 7/7
Bard Spells Known (CL 1, +2 melee touch, +2 ranged touch):
1 *DC 14 (2/day) Grease*, Cure Light Wounds*
0 *DC 13 (at will) Detect Magic, Prestidigitation*, Light, Spark*
Status Effects = None
Roluo falls to the ground, bleeding heavily into the snow.
"gurgle"
Behind the isbjörn, Surtr's jaws rip at the bear's thick fur attempting to find an opening.
But the wolf's jaws still cannot find an opening.
Cursing as the skald drops to the ice, Black Úlfarr rushes up to stand next to the isbjörn. He brings his flail sweeping down in an attempt to bring down the animal.
But as he attempts to plant his foot for leverage, it slips on the ice. His blow completely misses the creature and he nearly falls into the snow.
Black Úlfarr
AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14..(+4 Armor, +2 Dex)
hp 11/11
Weapon Equipped Heavy Flail +5 (1d10+6/19-20/x2, Disarm, Trip)
Temporary Paired Opportunists (1 round remains)
Surtr
AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12. . (+2 Dex, +2 natural)
hp 17/17
Melee Bite (Wolf) +2 (1d6+1/20/x2) and trip
Temporary Paired Opportunists (1 round remains)
The laboring isbjörn proves to be too hard a target for the vargr and his liv-brother.
Jorleif sees Roluo fall from the beast's attacks and resolves to end the fight. His shot is wide however. Jorleif moves in closer ready to aid Ruolo if possible.
Kjell, still in a flanking position with Gylfir, attempts to deal the killing blow!
Greataxe ATT:
Greataxe DAM:
A horn sounds in the far distance across the tundra, the sister to the one sounded by Sámr earlier. The huscarl sneers at the isbjörn before unloading with a vicious rising strike with his axe...
Greataxe: for
...and thought the strike is true, the blade is turned as it approaches the bear's hide and is turned aside. The black haired huscarl spits "Skit fan" as a frustrated epithet.
Grómr dances forward once more with his long knives to try and score a blow...
Knife:
Knife: for
...one blade turned aside but the second manages to score a blow just beneath the white beast's skull. Though the cut is not deep it strikes an artery and the bear collapses to the tundra movements ragged and lacking authority.
At the end of combat, Jorleif goes over and checks on Roluo. Seeing his injuries, Jorleif pulls a small bag out filled with some sort of powder. He pulls a pinch out and spread it over Roluo's body while drawing the rune for good health in the air.
Once the blood stops oozing out Jorleif takes a second pouch out and with that powder draws a rune of health upon his body. "This should help him wake and speed up his recovery, though he will not like the pain"
When Roluo wakes up for the pain of the wounds closing, Jorleif offers him his waterskin to drink out of. "Take it easy, you are alright"
"Raurgh."
Ungh. Damn bear. How does anybody survive a linnorm? Clearly I've much to learn.
Roluo comes to with a grunt of pain and looks around.
"I imagine it wouldn't hurt so much if I was dead, and I wouldn't be staring at your ugly faces."
Roluo grins weakly before sitting up and taking the proffered water.
"Thank you my friend. That beast's teeth were nearly the end of me."
Rubbing his own chest, Roluo channels a magic of his own, though there are no runes he hums under his breath while the magic does it's work.
The wound closes, bone audibly snapping back into place under the skin as organs are knit and muscle sewn together. A slight injury remains, the edges pink and raw before the young skald pulls his winter garb back over the area.
As the skald comes to, the dvergr gives a grim smile;
"Feh. Singr us a song of the afterlife skald... is it as varmr as here?!"
Steam still rising from his blocky torso, Torgeir slowly approaches the prone isbjörn...
"This ríkr warrior deserves a dauðadagr that is skjótr..."
Sámr looks to Roluo when the beast falls, but as the ministrations of Jorleif have returned him to the land of consciousness he pays no further mind. To Torgeir, he gives a nod "Aye, take his life dvergr" moving forward to grip the beast by the head to raise it so Torgeir can get his axe in to the isbjörn's neck for a clean death.
Grómr re-sheathes his knives after wiping them clean on the bear's hide and returns to his nervous manner of rubbing his hands together for warmth.
After Torgeir has cut the isbjörn's neck, Sámr draws his scramasax and moves to begin the grisly task of butchering the animal where it lies. You cannot see the other group, but by the sound of the horn you'd wager they are still a goodly distance from you.
As Gylfir takes a moment and catches his breath, he notices the sparse grass on the tundra pointing in toward the body of the isbjorn, despite the slight breeze in another direction. Is it just my imagination?
During the butchering, Gylfir dips the Ancor in the blood. It was already slightly bloodied from the fight, but now he soaks it well. He drags it in a circle around the kill. Not sure that does anything, but perhaps will break the attraction.
As the butchering wraps up, he asks for one claw off the limb that he shattered. He takes the claw and drops it into a pouch tied to his belt.
Black Úlfarr raises his head at the sound of the horn, "I would like to take some of the isbjörn's meat for Surtr on our voyage, but the horn has sounded. Do we need to check on our brothers?"
"Nay - they tuta in response to mine. They will come to us." Samr says as he continues to butcher "Best we take as much meat as we can... will be a long sail nedan."
Kjell spits in disgust.
I take nothin' from this kill. I did not bloody me axe. I am not gildr.
Sámr continues his work and after a good span of time the second group meets up with yours. They do not bear any signs of affray, barring Ellisif who is slumped upon Kitta for support. You see solemn nods of respect cross the vikingr's faces as they see the quarry that you have slain. Njáll moves to assist with the butchering and the work passes much quicker with two sets of trained hands at work.
Gummi moves to Roluo and gives him a hearty slap on the back, sending shooting pain through his wound, exclaiming [b]"Hah! How does it feel to be erfarenh skald? I hope you got in a blåsa on him to match your ärr?
By the time the isbjörn is skinned and sectioned for travel the long dark is spreading across the sky. Surtr's ears prick up and some of you can hear the distant call of the vargr.
A decision must be made - whether to stand and wait for dawn, or risk the travel in relative darkness?
Roluo rubs his chest at the slap.
"I did, the beast took a blow from my axe ere he felled me. I'll have a small tooth, for he was a worthy foe. I need not take one from the corpse, I've pried this one from my chest."
Looking over the distance to the howls, Roluo shudders.
"We should camp and fortify. Moving through the dark while being hunted sits poorly with me, and we'll need a fire."
Torgeir grimly smiles at Roluo's words and taps his dead eye;
"Feh. Even with but one auga, we dvergr fear not the myrkr! Let the vargr come - I have need of new skinnavara!"
"The smell of blood will draw them. We can at least move away from the kill and let them fight over the scraps tonight."
"Aye, I agree with Gylfir's thought to move away from what's left. But, camping here would be best for the night."
The group sets to task at gathering what sparse lumber lies upon the tundra as you move away from the isbjörn's stripped corpse. As the dark descends a small fire is lit against the cold of the night, and you huddle around it to wait out the night. The calls of the vargr do indeed center around the white beast's corpse and after a time begin to disperse and allow you all to get some fitful sleep in turn.
In the dark of the near morn, the huscarl awake you again and set to make ready for moving. Most of the men and women both seem very keen to make their way back to the karvi and onwards to the waves.
While you are preparing an artic hare bounds into view before the group. Gylfir could swear that it looks upon him and Torgeir feels an itching sensation begin behind his ruined orb. It pauses in place for a good hand of seconds before bounding off towards the North.
At it's sight Bjólfr puts his arm to a bow and draws a bead upon it "A hare would be a welcome change to the fish" preparing to let fly.
"Hold Friend!, as Gylfir places a hand upon his shoulder. "We have bjorn meat enough. I feel that little one watches for others, for good or ill, and it would be best not to draw their wyrd in upon ours with an act of violence." For emphasis he gives the Ancor a shake the ensure the chain is adequately reaching the ground.
"Perhaps we should follow it?
Jorleif is intrigued by the ancor and Gylfir's reaction to the arctic hare.
Wearing a scowl, Torgeir raises also his arm to stay Bjólfr’s shot;
”Nei. The bleikr hare is not meant for the seyðir. Tis an omen... could be happ, could be ósælligr... Either way I’d halda your shot...”
The dvergr’s tone is neither threatening nor coddling, just flat and matter of fact...
"As they say, we have plenty of meat already, something doesn't seem right here."
Roluo sits to the fire, his coat open to the heat to absorb as much as possible.
"If it returns, I would put more belief that we should follow it. But blindly following it can lead us down into a warren of trouble. Tricks of the mind and eye are its trade. I think we best move on, but keep a sharp eye out." Gylfir's memory of a boot with a foot in it still struggling, pulled ever so slowly into the deep shadows of the hedge, is an image he does not want repeated....ever. I know they are not all like that, but how can one tell on a moment's locked glance.
Gylfir looks around uncomfortably, as he realizes how strange this all looks and sounds. He is strengthened when Torgeir voices his warning as well. But still.....I came here for a new start, but it seems my wyrd to draw their eye. As long as I am not shunned for such precautions as drawing blood on the grass, and avoiding hares. His eye settles on the Raven watching him from Ellisif's shoulder, but he quickly looks away.
Black Úlfarr signals Surtr to heel and adds, "Aye, if you all have a feeling about the hare, I will heed your feelings. But, if a normal hare ever presents itself, I'm sure Surtr would be happy to chase it down for us."
At your urging Bjólfr lowers his aim, though it does not stop him grumbling a little as he does. The rest of the party does not seem to have paid the hare much attention... except for Ellisif. She watches the hare with a kind of recognition etched on her face. She catches Gylfir's glance at Snaren and moves over to you immediately. Speaking to Gylfir directly she speaks with purpose "We have to följer... he is an eläin opas." Kitta follows Ellisif and puts an arm around her speaking softly "Come låt, we shouldn't let you get trötta, we've a walk ahead today."
The rest of the group wraps up their preparations and Njáll comes over to talk with you. Speaking brusquely "What is this nonsens? Get ye pack ready we've to make for the vatten"
Gylfir kicks and the frozen ground, swallows hard, but then looks up. Here ya go Da. I putting my head right on the chopping stump, just like I shouldn't, but somethng says I ...need to.
"We've received a sign, that we should head north first. I ain't the only one neither to see it, so don't be thinking I'm off my oar. But something wants us to go north, and some of us have learned to take those suggestions to heart. Sometimes the hard way." He gives the Ancor, still covered in dried blood, a gentle shake on his shoulder, the dangling chain gives a <<jangle>> in response.
Jorleif nods in agreement, "Aye, I saw right away its importance. I will följer the eläin opas. I travel with Gylfir" He looks at the others to see who might come with them.
"Great sagas have begun this way Njáll."
Of course, they've ended this way too.
Roluo seems set to follow Gylfir.
Kjell paces back and forth, clearly divided internally. Finally he stops and stares at Gylfir.
ARGHHHHH! Alright, ya have my axe!
He looks to Black Úlfarr,
Ya with us?
He hefts his axe and steps towards Gylfir.
"I know not what it means, but I will stand by you my new brothers. I'm sure Surtr can help us follow the hare, but I may need to remind him it is not a snack."
Torgeir eyes Njáll defiantly with an eye of ice and one of fog;
"Happ or ósælligr, it matters nei. The virðar kjósa to fylgja the sign... I am with them..."
Njáll spits into the snow and looks back at the others mulling things over "We're come to plunder South, not chase some fecking hare through the snow." removing his helmet and running a hand through his hair at the sign of your intransigence before adding "Fine, ye've as long as it takes us to make the karvi and get ready again... you're not there we sail without." He looks to the women and jerks his head for them to go with, but pulls Bjólfr back.
Njáll returns to the rest of the group and informs Sámr.... he does not take it well. Glaring at you with black eyes as you depart, you can see his mouth mumbling words that you can only guess are epithets... but he holds to Njáll's decision to give you leave. All of the others begin to continue their journey back to the ship... leaving your six, Ellisif and Kitta to follow the eläin opas.
By now the hare has left sight, but a few tens of seconds after you start after it - it show's up on the horizon. Seeming to pause for but a moment for you to catch it's presence before bounding out of sight again. This cat and mouse chase continues for the best part of an hour, and you are getting to the end of your patience... when something of interest looms up ahead...
Roughly two hundred feet ahead of you is an unmistakable sight in the Northlands... a burial mound. The entrance is hidden from your angle of approach, but from the size it looks to have been for an important chieftain. Try as you might to scan the horizon, you cannot spot the hare again... but surely you would not have stumbled across this mound unless led?
Ellisif has not weathered the chase well, and is leaning heavily upon Kitta for support. Sweat sheening her brow despite the cold and breathing heavily. But she does fix the mound with a determined gaze, urging her shield-sister to support her closer.
Gylfir follows the hare with a bit of a smile, but he still keeps his reactions guarded. For too long he has been shunned for watching such signs, to now have them taken as mindful, was.....unexpected.
Upon reaching the mound, Gylfir gives it a wide berth as he slowly starts to circle the cairn. He lets the Ancor slip on its chain down to the ground. Holding it suspended, he drags it along as he makes his circuit looking for any openings.
But he catches himself more watching the Ancor making sure it maintains contact with the ground.
Seeing the mound come into view Torgeir spits upon the ground and stops in his tracks;
"If the dauðr svefn here, I for one say leave them to their ró everlong..."
"I agree my dvegr friend, yet we were led here for some hlutr. While it may have been for mischief, the Crestefalla taught me to never ignore that which isn't kunnr. I think this time we need to see innan."
As you trace a wide berth of the burial mound, you come upon it's entrance. The first sign of true oro well within you as you see that it's dörren has been rent to kindling. Shards of fractured wood litter the few feet surrounding the mound's entrance. From the look at a distance, you gauge the door was broken outward rather than in. The hard tundra before the entrance has been churned over, though you can make no sense of the markings unless you draw closer.
Surtr has his hackles raised and is pawing through the tundra more slowly. His lips are drawn back from his teeth in a half-snarl. There is still no sign of the hare, though...
Kitta is clearly worried, and makes a sign against the onda ögat towards the barrow. Ellisif's gaze is firm on the barrow, a fire in her eyes more potent than the weakness of her limbs. Snaren, until now ensconced upon her shoulder takes flight and begins a lazy circling of the barrow.
Jorleif draws closer to check out the area
Perception
He points out to the others, "Blood there on the rock left of the doorway"
Roluo has his axe ready, watching the barrow with interest. Upon seeing the door, he turns his gaze outward instead, looking for any others who might be interested in the mound.
"This is fell indeed my friends."
Torgeir warily casts his ruined gaze across the barrow...
Torgeir gains a +2 bonus to detect Undead – haven’t included this in my Perception check, but add if relevant :)
:
"If there are Aptrgangr laired innan, be ready to fœra them hryggr to Hel..."
The beserkr, spits upon the ground near the blod and unbuckles his cloak clasp...
Kjell steps towards the opening, and he prepares to head inside with his Axe brandished.
No sense in halda. Let's sjá what is inside, no?
Torgeir cannot ken any more from this distance, though as his eyes linger the itching intensifies behind his ruined orb.
Moving closer to the entrance you are able to peer within. The entrance opens out to a tunnel where you could stand two abreast though barely. There is no light within, though what you can see at present is a corridor that stretches out in a straight line and down - with chambers off to either side that you cannot currently see into. The corridor is worked from the earth itself without any means of stopping up the ceiling.
The blod on the entryway is dried, and smeared roughly four feet from the floor. It looks as though something that was covered with the sanguine fluid brushed against the portal as it passed.
You can also spy a few flecks of blood in the earth afore the entrance.
Surtr begins to whine defensively as you approach the barrow entrance. He clearly fears what might be within, though is faithful to keep to Úlfarr's heel for now.
Survival:
Kjell moves even closer, almost entering the barrow. He stares at the ground before the entrance and points.
Someone or somethin' with boots was here.
Kjell draws near the entrance of the burial mound and despite the lack of wind in the sheltered hollow, he almost imagines that a chill wind is blowing from it's mouth.
Roluo moves to stand beside Kjell, intoning words in a low pitch that cause his shield to glow.
"I stand with you shield-brother."
Roluo's shield begins to glow with pale light, which illuminates some of the interior as he shines it within. You see a passage wide enough to accommodate two vikingr side by side that extends out on a downward slope to the end of where the shadowy light your shield casts can reach - and you cannot see the end of the passage.
Roughly every twenty feet along there appears to be side-chambers branching off to each side of the main chamber. What you can see of the floor shows the same churning of booted prints as that just outside the entrance.
"I don't like the look of this, but will go with you brothers if you are sure." He kneels next to Surtr on the ground. "I don't like it either Surtr, but something is calling us here. Stay by my side." He stands, ready to follow Kjell and Roluo.
Kjell looks to follow the tracks into the barrow with Ruolo at his side and lighting his way as they take the point.
Come, let's get movin'
Survival:
Jorleif draws a runic symbol for light on an arrow causing it to glow like a torch. Holding his bow in one hand the the arrow in the other, he follows his brothers into the burial mound