All right so here we go:
(if you haven't had a chance to see the town info on the discussion thread here is link
It is a chill fall evening in the river town of Raudurfoss. The market booths have been struck and only a few stragglers here and there are to be found on the muddy streets. A cluster of torches burn bright outside the Alf, a large public hall within a close distance to the piers and marketplace.
Inside the Alf a thick throng of townsfolk crowd the hall. Despite the numbers, the Alf remains relatively subdued. Farmers, loggers, traders and wanderers tend to their cups only exchanging a few words here and there in low voices. An air of anticipation hangs over the crowd but also a seething undercurrent of outrage permeates many of the hushed conversations. The presence of missing faces at the table and absent friends is palpable.
Thora and her servants wind through the throngs pouring ale and mead and some plates of roasted mutton. Thora is pleasant but nervous. Kjartan Bloodeye stands back from the crowd leaning against a thick Waleska-hewn pillar. His eyes continually scan the crowd for signs of trouble.
A number of Egil's men lurk at the back tables while at the front various friends of Unn and her family sit. The two parties exchange stony looks.
The hall falls silent as Egil himself enters flanked by two men. The Earl's son bears a dark and grim expression. He makes his way to a seat that is prepared and he curls his lip in visible disdain as he eyes the throng. Taking a seat Egil helps himself to a cup while staring coldly at the door. Unn and her two sons have yet to arrive.
Vladimir Kjellsborgson
Ragnarr the Fatherless
Thorvann
Hrafn
Amongst the assembled throng other than Egil, Thora and Kjartan a few other unfamaliar faces catch your eye;
DC 10 Knowledge (local) for each individual:
1. A tall well dressed man who has the air of nobility about him. He stands near Kjartan quietly observing the proceedings.
2. A short red haired woman in leather armour and a bow slung over her shoulders. A few men approach her who she responds with only withering stares.
A massive, broad-framed, bestial-looking man sits alone at a table, trying to appear inconspicuous, but achieving the opposite by the very fact that he is alone at his table and that all who pass by seem to wrinkle their noses and give him a wide berth. He has a high forehead with a prominent brow, jutting jaw, flat nose with wide nostrils, and stone grey eyes sunk deep in his skull. Long wisps of stringy, matted blonde hair fall away from a balding crown to the middle of his back. A scraggly beard grows in uneven patches along his jaw line. His arms and legs are like tree trunks, and his skin has the consistency of burnt clay. The woolen cloak he wears over a studded leather jirkin is worn and tattered. A walking stick, short bow, and great axe rest against his table.
Hmmm... this was not a good day to come... too many people... bad feelings... there will be no songs or tales today... where is Unn? Why did she tell me to come? Hmmm... He tries to conceal his discomfort by taking frequent pulls from his mug of mead. The hulking man seems eager to make himself smaller than he really is.
He gazes hungrily at the red-headed warrior woman... Mmmm... Gudrid... if I can't have Ragnhild, then maybe I can take her... or maybe I can have both of them... heh heh... He scans the room to see if Ragnhild Hrafnsdottir might also be in the Alf... .
Hrafn's table, empty an hour ago, has filled with a crush of local farmers and villagers. He peers out from behind his great matted beard, visibly uncomfortable with so many people so close.
A massive, broad-framed, bestial-looking man sits alone at a table, trying to appear inconspicuous, but achieving the opposite by the very fact that he is alone at his table and that all who pass by seem to wrinkle their noses and give him a wide berth.
Seeing an almost empty table across the hall, Hrafn mutters an half-audible apology to his neighbors, and gets up. He almost halts when he sees the hulking figure who sits there, but then shrugs and sits.
A grunt, it seems, will do as a greeting.
Seeing an almost empty table across the hall, Hrafn mutters an half-audible apology to his neighbors, and gets up. He almost halts when he sees the hulking figure who sits there, but then shrugs and sits.A grunt, it seems, will do as a greeting.
The ugly giant, in the middle of a hearty pull from his mug of mead, stops swallowing and stares with wide, dumb-founded eyes over the rim of his drinking vessel at the bearded man who has taken a seat before him. At the latter's greeting, the giant slowly lowers his mug, wipes the foam away from his mouth with a dirty sleeve, and belches his acknowledgement. His open maw reveals unusually long and pointy teeth. He stares at the newcomer for a few long seconds. Hmmm... he's not so different than me, but...??? Not sure what else he should say or do, the hulk looks down -- shyly or longingly, perhaps? -- at his axe by the tableside. His overpowering stench soon assails Hrafn, and lets him know exactly why no one else would wish to sit next to this beast-man...
A tall, broad-shouldered youth enters the hall late, clad in a chain hauberk and wearing a fine longsword and a handaxe at his side, with a passel of javelins and a round wooden shield on his back. He is fair of face and has piercing blue eyes, and wears fine linen under his mail.
Something about the youth says "authority" (whether acting on his own, or someone else's), and he strides confidently forward.
Recognising the trader from Brattahild, he nods, and they exchange a few words and a hand-clasp, before he passes to the front of the room and takes an eager position, waiting for the meeting to begin.
As he waits, he watches the assembled group, assessing them. He fails to recognise the massive fur-clad one, or the other at his table, but he takes note of them and waits.
I must be alert, he thinks. Earl Thorolf is counting on me. As for his son... he does a passable job, but maturity, and leadership, will come to him with experience. I am lucky to have Halfdeane's teaching.
Knowledge (local) DC 10
Ragnarr takes another quick glance at the people assembled in the room. Many important people are here... even Bolli, from far away... what is going on? His eyes fall for an instant on the man seated across the table from him. He grunts, takes another pull from his mug only to realize, with dismay, that it is empty. Seeing no bar wench nearby, he turns his gaze back to the table top...
A stout man with ruddy brown skin and a bushy red beard sits at a table with a number of other local merchants. Most in the room know him as the blacksmith who has taken up the bulk of the town's work in recent days. He casually glances around, looking for any other familiar faces, competitors or otherwise. Sensing something seems imminent, he touches a pendant at his neck and orders another drink.
The ugly giant, in the middle of a hearty pull from his mug of mead, stops swallowing and stares with wide, dumb-founded eyes over the rim of his drinking vessel at the bearded man who has taken a seat before him. At the latter's greeting, the giant slowly lowers his mug, wipes the foam away from his mouth with a dirty sleeve, and belches his acknowledgement.His overpowering stench soon assails Hrafn, and lets him know exactly why no one else would wish to sit next to this beast-man...
Hrafn flinches, if barely.
Phaugh! That does explain the lack of crowds. This man smells as bad as that bear last winter. Maybe worse. Still, he's polite and doesn't fill the room up with babble.
It becomes clear that Hrafn is also looking round for a new ale.
As Egil and his men arrive, Vladimir narrows his eyes, watching the reaction of people around. His brow furrows as he witnesses the Earl's son and his bodyguards push their way in.
He does not know how they see him... he thinks to himself.
Then he witnesses the giant man and his new friend, and remembers that he may need aid. Seeing their size, and no-one of clear skill other than Egil's men, he decides to approach them.
With a a pensive breath, he crosses the room to fetch two wooden tankards of mead, and goes to stand by their table silently, allowing them to see him and judge his intentions.
[OOC]
Seeing a large number of dangerous looking men congregate near the beast-man on the fringes of the room, the stout man worries that trouble may be brewing. Breifly questioning the other merchants to see if they know any of the gathering brutes, Dorvarr flashes a gold coin and catches the eye of his favourite wench.
Shouldering his way to the table, he has four mugs of ale set down and glances into each man's face: "We're not to have trouble, are we," his eyes sparkling at the use of the last word.
He scans the room to see if Ragnhild Hrafnsdottir might also be in the Alf... .
Ragnhild is indeed present. You see her and Egil exchange a word or two but the Earl's son is no mood to exchange pleasantries with a woman and dismisses her with a wave of the hand. She eyes him with exasperation and has a seat at the table crowded with Egil's men. The other warriors ignore her presence.
Recognising the trader from Brattahild, he nods, and they exchange a few words and a hand-clasp, before he passes to the front of the room and takes an eager position, waiting for the meeting to begin.
Bolli greets you warmly.
Seeing a large number of dangerous looking men congregate near the beast-man on the fringes of the room, the stout man worries that trouble may be brewing. Breifly questioning the other merchants to see if they know any of the gathering brutes, Dorvarr flashes a gold coin and catches the eye of his favourite wench.
Bjarni, one of the men who runs the lumber camp gives you the lowdown on the great man-beast and the young well-dressed warrior.
Vladimir is the warrior's apprentice of the great Halfdeane, trained in the arts of war and leadership. He hails from Brattahild, and is, as yet, young and untested.
As you flash the gold coin Thora comes with a plate of mugs and a sharp smile. "Always good to see you Master Thorshammer. You're an honest man be a dear and keep an eye out for trouble. Including yourself." She chuckles passing you the mugs and rushes off to the other patrons.
As the four of you sit with replenished mugs, the far door opens admitting the figure of Unn. The murmur drops to nothing as the wise woman strides into the centre near the firepit.
She is clad in fine gray robes clasped by an elegantly crafted brooch. Her left hand brandishes a thick heavy-looking cudgel as a walking stick. Unn is aged but her blue steely eyes indicate an unwavering resolve.
"So, you come now at last. At the behesting of an old woman. I had hoped the young would show better judgement, and make the sacrifices to appease the gods, but only after many of our kin have passed on do you turn to the wisdom of your elders.
Know this I did not call this meeting for idle reasons. Since this pestilence has struck our town I have thought, meditated and prayed to the Gods to give me wisdom. Our Earl is struck down by this plague and I say it is the judgement of the gods!" Her voice cracks like thunder over the crowd. Egil's face contorts in rage but one of his advisers places a hand on his shoulder.
Unn turns looking over the faces of the crowds; "Aye it is judgement but not on the Earl alone. On all of us! The spirits of the Vale grow restless at our pillaging. The trees should not be touched and given to those that scheme their own greed and war on their own people. But the gods are merciful... I prayed to Frigga and she gave me a vision. We can save ourselves. There is a cure to the poison that lived in the north well. But it a perilous route for those that would take it. The way lies deep in the woods of the Darkmoon Vale and even to the peak of Droskar. The lands haunted by the beast."
Unn pauses and her gaze falls upon your table as she sees an unlikely gathering of men. She holds her stare for but a fraction of a moment before turning to Egil's crowd.
"I would not ask any of you to make such a journey but alas I have no choice. My sons... I sent my two boys into the wilds. They have not returned and I fear I will never see them again. Are there any that would follow in their path?"
Vlad surges instantly to his feet, drawing his sword and holding it high.
"Aye! I will go!" He cries.
"Is there any bold enough to follow?" He asks, looking pointedly at the folks at his table. This had better work...
Vlad surges instantly to his feet, drawing his sword and holding it high.
"Aye! I will go!" He cries.
"Is there any bold enough to follow?" He asks, looking pointedly at the folks at his table.
Rash. But Unn's vision has a ring of truth, and it would seem a shame to send more babes to die alone in the woods. Hrafn stands slowly from the bench, his great muddy cloak draped around him, and says... nothing. Just stands.
The man-beast seems a little overwhelmed by the things that are going on around him. First, two other strangers come to his table, bringing tankards of mead... and stay! He looks sheepishly from one to the other, and without motioning for them to sit, grabs one of the tankards and starts chugging its contents... Hmmm... this may be my day! New friends! Thor must be smiling!
Then, he is shocked as he hears wise Unn speak and then sees the young man and the bearded fellow who came to his table rise in response to her request. In the middle of a deep gulp, he seems paralyzed with uncertainty, his eyes wide above the rim of his tankard. Hmmm... maybe this is the moment Eyja was talking about... maybe Thor is calling, and not just Frigga... After a long moment, he sets down his mug and belches again, then rises tentatively to his full height of 6 and a half feet tall while grabbing his axe. At last, he speaks slowly, in a deep, gravelly voice... "Me too... I will go..." He looks towards Ragnhild, across the hall, with a big grin on his face.
Vlad smiles confidently, seeing the shaggy man and the mountain stand.
"Two bold companions! And yet... deaths come in threes. Are there any yet that wish to join us?" Vlad says, half in jest.
He looks at Egil, nods to him boldly, sword now lowered, willing him to understand the meaning of the glance.
This is how it is done, my friend. Whether I fall or nay, I die with courage. They must see your willingness. Join, and the people will see that you risk yourself for them, and they will follow you, to the ends of the earth and more.
[Diplomacy check on Egil and the crowd... 22]
At last, he speaks slowly, in a deep, gravelly voice... "Me too... I will go..." He looks towards Ragnhild, across the hall, with a big grin on his face.
As Ragnarr announced his intentions from the corner of your eye you catch Ragnhild's look of astonishment and you think even of concern. She holds your gaze with a steady look but turns as Egil moves to stand...
Vlad smiles confidently, seeing the shaggy man and the mountain stand.
"Two bold companions! And yet... deaths come in threes. Are there any yet that wish to join us?" Vlad says, half in jest.
He looks at Egil, nods to him boldly, sword now lowered, willing him to understand the meaning of the glance.
This is how it is done, my friend. Whether I fall or nay, I die with courage. They must see your willingness. Join, and the people will see that you risk yourself for them, and they will follow you, to the ends of the earth and more.
[Diplomacy check on Egil and the crowd... 22]
The crowd admires the young warrior's bravado and you see some of the older farmers who once had gone a viking nod in agreement to your words.
Egil holds your gaze he nods in grudging admiration but shakes his head all the same.The Earl's son stands and his cold voice rings clearly dispelling the murmurs;
"I am a warrior, a fighter I do not mince words or flatter. But I am an honest man and I will tell you the truth as I see it. Unn's kin when they held these lands had no trouble logging the woods and taking from the land... so why now are the Gods angry with us, wise-woman.' Egil strides to the fire opposite of Unn. He speaks his last words dripping with sarcasm. Unn stares down the prideful son. Egil pauses for a moment before turning to the crowd; "But Unn has even been a source of wisdom to our town and not to heed her words would be ... improper."
A man shouts out "Send a war-party to fetch the cure!"
Egil turns and you can see in the corner of his eye he watches Unn intently.
"In the stead of my father as hersir, I tell you this that is utter foolishness. The disease has weakened our defences and the goblins are gathering strength. My responsibility is to you and your property. We must hold our defence. A small group of men are more likely to go unnoticed in the vale than a war party which simply invites ambush."
Egil paces about the fire and looks upon the table of the four men and he eyes Vladmimir;
But I am not unmindful of the risks. For my part, those that wish to go forth on Unn's quest I will see to it they are well rewarded and if my father lives Thorolf is a generous man."
With a twinkle in his eye, the stout man stands. "Aye, I'll join the young ones to keep them out of trouble... assuming Thor sees fit to keep me so as well."
[ooc:] I figured that, but it's no fun rolling a check with a penalty when you have a nice crunchy +9 modifier :D Maybe when Vlad is more experienced, he'll have a shot.
With a twinkle in his eye, the stout man stands. "Aye, I'll join the young ones to keep them out of trouble... assuming Thor sees fit to keep me so as well."
Ragnarr grunts as the fourth man rises and speaks. A servant of Thor... yes, I think Eyja was right... Thor has chosen us...
Unn smiles in disdain at Egil and approaches your table. Without a word she examines your company. "It is well. A company of four. I believe the gods favour the number four. Now we should discuss further this undertaking." She leans in and speaks in hused tones;
"Frigga has revealed to me the cure for this pestilence. It needs three ingredients of which I do not have. First, is that of elderwood moss which grows on the oldest tree in the vale. Though I know not for certain where such a tree would be in the forest. Second, the herbal root known as Rat's Tail. A potent charm sometimes used in compulsions. Alas, the witch Ulizmila who lives in the vale may be your best hope to procure these. Last, is the mushroom known as Ironbloom. It is a strange mushroom that grows in dark places thick with metal. The tomes I possess indicated that it grew often in places frequented by the dvergar. When my grandfather, Thorkel came to settle these lands he told me of the ruins of a dvergar hall at the foot of the Droskar mountain. I can only pray that though the dvergar have left the Ironbloom may still grow. But, as tales say a great hound haunts the rocky slopes. If you can undertake this task and maybe even find the fate of my sons, my family will be eternally grateful."
As Unn finishes Egil waves his hands out and speaks aloud; "If you should succeed I promise that you may have your choice of my finest knorr, Wave-Stepper or 200 gold crowns each. All are hear to bear witness to my pact.'
Ulizmila
The Oldest Tree
Dvergar ruins
Dvergar Trivia
With a wink and a nod, Dorvarr pushes himself from the table. "Thor will certainly guide our way on this quest, He has seen me through worse." His gaze corsses everyone at the table. "With a modicum of luck, we'll have some of the indegrients tomorrow."
And with that, the stout man retires for the evening.
Hrafn listens intently to Unn, a frown creasing his brows. At the mention of the oldest tree his frown intensifies...
...and then with a grimace, he mutters "Unn, what more can you tell us of these things? Some seem familiar, but we need your advice"
Vlad hears Unn's instructions without recognizing anything he has been told about.
He keeps quiet and listens intently to the stout, bearded man.
This man seems to be wise. I should pay heed to what he says. And probably introduce myself, shortly.
And with that, the stout man retires for the evening.
The short red haired woman clad in leather armour approaches the gathering. She looks at your group and clears her throat; "I may be able to help you out if you truly seek the cure for this pestilence. My name is Gudrun I've done some trapping in the vale. There's a man by the name of Olaf who works at the logging camp near the edge of the woods. The men say he's seen where Uzimila lives. For my part I might know where the oldest trees grow in the woods... There's an old grove deep in the forest with the greatest Waleska trees I've ever seen. They must be very ancient." She takes out a piece of parchment and marks it on the map of the vale. "But be warned I've heard tale of some loggers that have tried to take wood from there. They never return. As for Droskarfell I have only tales of such a place. Olaf has been in this land for many winters he might know."
A voice booms from the back of the hall as the well dressed merchant stands. Clearly impressed by your valour and Vladimir's stirring oration. "I would like to assist these brave souls. My name is Bolli son of Otar Hrankelsson, a merchant by trade hailing from Brattahlid. If you have need of provisions and equipment please but ask. It is the least I can do. By Tyr, I salute you men."
Vlad smiles at the woman in the armour, and thanks Bolli for his offer. (I guess we'll equip up after introductions and drinks... lots of drinks!)
He holds up his hand for Thora, calling her over with a tray of drinks.
"In that case, I'll have five gold coins' worth of mead for the six of us. Tonight, we drink to our victory!"
The short red haired woman clad in leather armour approaches the gathering. She looks at your group and clears her throat; "I may be able to help you out if you truly seek the cure for this pestilence. My name is Gudrun I've done some trapping in the vale. There's a man by the name of Olaf who works at the logging camp near the edge of the woods. The men say he's seen where Uzimila lives. For my part I might know where the oldest trees grow in the woods... There's an old grove deep in the forest with the greatest Waleska trees I've ever seen. They must be very ancient." She takes out a piece of parchment and marks it on the map of the vale. "But be warned I've heard tale of some loggers that have tried to take wood from there. They never return. As for Droskarfell I have only tales of such a place. Olaf has been in this land for many winters he might know."
"You are coming with us, Gudrun?" asks Ragnarr with unconcealable glee at the prospect of having a beautiful female join the party, oblivious to the effects of his rank breath and body odour.
The short red haired woman clad in leather armour approaches the gathering. She looks at your group and clears her throat; "I may be able to help you out if you truly seek the cure for this pestilence. My name is Gudrun I've done some trapping in the vale. There's a man by the name of Olaf who works at the logging camp near the edge of the woods. The men say he's seen where Uzimila lives. For my part I might know where the oldest trees grow in the woods... There's an old grove deep in the forest with the greatest Waleska trees I've ever seen. They must be very ancient." She takes out a piece of parchment and marks it on the map of the vale. "But be warned I've heard tale of some loggers that have tried to take wood from there. They never return. As for Droskarfell I have only tales of such a place. Olaf has been in this land for many winters he might know."
I tell Gudrun, "Thanks for sharing your knowledge, the map will help us all. Do you know anything else about Uzimila -- it is an ill-omened name."
I'll let someone else talk to the merchant. I have everything I need, or can get it from the forest.
Dorvarr is interrupted on his way home, and takes up the merchant's offer.
"Thank you for the supplies, it is sure to be a treacherous road ahead."
Sense Motive 15.
"So it's just myself, Ragnarr, Bolli, and Gudrun drinking? Then we shall see you others on the morn!"
[ooc:] Vlad probably hasn't done a lot of drinking before, and in a situation where he has the coin, and they're willing to keep bringing drinks while he can pay for them, I'm, going to go ahead and say he gets a little plastered. He's young and inexperienced, after all! ;)
But I'm sure he makes some friends... how about it, Ragnarr?
"So it's just myself, Ragnarr, Bolli, and Gudrun drinking? Then we shall see you others on the morn!"
[ooc:] Vlad probably hasn't done a lot of drinking before, and in a situation where he has the coin, and they're willing to keep bringing drinks while he can pay for them, I'm, going to go ahead and say he gets a little plastered. He's young and inexperienced, after all! ;)
But I'm sure he makes some friends... how about it, Ragnarr?
"I'll leave you here, before it gets too raucus. See you by the road tomorrow. Early!" This last with a look at Vlad, as Thora brings yet another round of ales.
Once back in the woods just outside the village, Hrafn wraps himself in his clak and rests, back to a great tree. Overhead a raven roosts in the branches, shifting from foot to foot. An onlooker, if they could see well in the dark, and were more than observant, might almost think the raven was keeping watch.
I tell Gudrun, "Thanks for sharing your knowledge, the map will help us all. Do you know anything else about Uzimila -- it is an ill-omened name."
As mugs of mead are brought to the table, Gudrun takes a swig and replies, "It is an ill-omened name. Ulizmila was a mad witch-hermit that had lived in the vale previous even before Unn's kin came to settle these lands. She was a strange hag, a lover of riddles and worker of rune magics. Some say she communed with the darker spirits of the land particularly those of the winter nights. She never openly caused trouble but to those that saw her often suffered strange misfortunes thereafter. No one has seen her for years. She may not even be alive anymore. Nowadays her name is but used to frighten children perhaps she is indeed no more..."
"As for your question, Ragnarr if you like I can share the road with your company as far as the logging camp. After that our ways must part as I have a scouting party to guide to the west. The goblins are restless and some have been seen around the shielings in that area."As Hrafn and Dorvarr depart for the night Gudrun raises her mug and bids you farewell.
She sits herself at your table next to Vladimir (possibly to put some distance between her and Ragnarr's aroma). She quenches her thirst with some gulps of mead and her grim demenaor fades as she laughs lustily as any other warrior. "You and your friends are an odd group. To your success!"
As the meeting is settled and the townsfolk bolstered by the outcome, Egil and most of his men take leave. The Earl's son thanks you for your valour but "I will be riding in the early morning as defenses for winter are prepared and Bolli's men prepare for the transport of the lumber. I will not forget this nor my promise of reward to you." He gives a final wary glance to Unn and takes his leave of the hall. Most of his men follow behind him including the maiden Ragnihild. As she passes by your table she leaves a wooden amulet of Mjolnir upon the table in front of Ragnarr. She quickly whispers to the half-orc; "May it keep you safe." She then quickly darts to follow Egil's train.
The crowd visibly relaxes upon their departure.
Unn recites a blessing to your group and entreats "Please if you can bring my sons home... If not give them a fitting burial." The wise-woman without further ado also departs.
The remaining crowd is quite energetic and the regular joviality and revelry returns to the Alf as farmers and traders arm-wrestle at tables, and an abundance of mead and ale are made available (even to those with a stagger). The cranberry wheat ale freshly brewed from the harvest is particularly savoury. Kjartan strides through the crowd his manner relaxed and his clenched jaw replaced with an easy if lopsided grin.
Bolli converses with several persons as many thirst for his tales of his far travels. You hear through the night from Bolli's lips fragmented accounts of raids upon Frankia, the decadent pleasures of the cities of the Inner Sea and narrow escapes from orc maurauders.
However, one man asks him of news from Westurmark and the merchant's expression turns grim; "I have not sojourned to Stromsund since last year. Since Sihtric's men run the markets they do not do business there honestly anymore. What I have heard from other traders though disturbs me. Sihtric's rule is increasingly brutal. Leif Brightaxe, nephew of the late king, and his followers attempted to free Thorvann's family. Leif and his men were found out and the heads now decorate the entrance to the harbour. Some say Caroloman and his cursed sorcery were used to find them out.
But that is not the worst of it, the usurper is assembling his forces. He has sent out messages to the homeland and to Albion. Mercaneries and ships will come to fight for him... There will be war in spring and Halfdeane will be hard put."
As he states these words many faces in the crowd fall in dismay. A moment or so later conversation continues as most try to put this disturbing news out of mind. The revelry continues well into the night. Ragnarr and Vladimir are introduced to many illustrious townsfolk (many of whose names are unlikely to be recalled). Gudrun remains aloof to most of the folk but eagerly swaps tales of the trail and colourful hunting anecdotes. She remains evasive of any talk of what she did before coming to Raudurfoss but her easy manner and appetite for drink cannot be denied.
But I'm sure he makes some friends... how about it, Ragnarr?
"Okay!!!"
As the meeting is settled and the townsfolk bolstered by the outcome, Egil and most of his men take leave. The Earl's son thanks you for your valour but "I will be riding in the early morning as defenses for winter are prepared and Bolli's men prepare for the transport of the lumber. I will not forget this nor my promise of reward to you." He gives a final wary glance to Unn and takes his leave of the hall. Most of his men follow behind him including the maiden Ragnihild. As she passes by your table she leaves a wooden amulet of Mjolnir upon the table in front of Ragnarr. She quickly whispers to the half-orc; "May it keep you safe." She then quickly darts to follow Egil's train.
Ragnarr's eyes widen in surprise as Ragnhild leaves the amulet of Mjolnir upon the table. He is too dumbfounded to react, and watches her leave with a starry-eyed stare. "She never spoke to me before..." he murmurs to himself. Then, turning to his new and inebriated companion: "friend Vladimir... do you think she likes me?"
Ragnarr's eyes widen in surprise as Ragnhild leaves the amulet of Mjolnir upon the table. He is too dumbfounded to react, and watches her leave with a starry-eyed stare. "She never spoke to me before..." he murmurs to himself. Then, turning to his new and inebriated companion: "friend Vladimir... do you think she likes me?"
"Friend Vladimir... do you think she likes me?"
"I think perhaps you have an admirer, friend Ragnarr. If I were you, I would not let her forget you. Perhaps I can aid woo in youing her... I mean, aid you in wooing her. In fact, this fair lass here-" he claps a hand on Gudrun's shoulder (perhaps a little too familarly...).
"Gudrun, tell him how to win a woman. My father once told me a tale, of how he escaped from a troll-mother by blowing in her ear. If my friend Ragnarr were to do that, do you think he would win the heart of the lady?"
"Gudrun, tell him how to win a woman. My father once told me a tale, of how he escaped from a troll-mother by blowing in her ear. If my friend Ragnarr were to do that, do you think he would win the heart of the lady?"
Under his cloak, Hrafn grunts and rolls, as sounds carry from The Alf far into the night.
In fact, this fair lass here-" he claps a hand on Gudrun's shoulder (perhaps a little too familarly...).
"Gudrun, tell him how to win a woman. My father once told me a tale, of how he escaped from a troll-mother by blowing in her ear. If my friend Ragnarr were to do that, do you think he would win the heart of the lady?"
As you clap your hand on the back of Gudrun's shoulder you feel her body go rigid and her eyes turn to regard you. She clearly feels uncomfortable but as you ask your question her serious expression falters. Her eyes look at you almost as if to say 'are you serious?' when suddenly she nearly falls over laughing. She tries to stop several times before she finally catches her breath. She replies, her tone slightly woozy from the mead; "My good Ragnarr I think your friend here may not be the best source of advice on wooing... You could try blowing in her ear but I don't think it would have the desired result." She laughs again briefly. "Honesty and brave deeds should be enough..." She pauses to look at Ragnarr, "And a bath would go a long way." Gudrud swigs down the last of her mead. "Well I think I will leave you two now. We ride at first light." Her last words are laid with a warning. Gudrud departs and as you see much of the crowd around the Alf has diminished or passed out in a corner.
Vlad retires to a pile of bedding somewhere to sleep it off.
Assuming that cure minor wounds is worth at least the equivalent of 2 tylenol, Dorvarr wakes up early to pray to Thor at dawn. After an hour of worrying about Thor's thoughts on his hammer and wondering if he was worhty of Thor's attention, Dorvarr readies his gear, strapping on his armour, readying his shield and taking a few practice swings with his hammer.
Once the rest of the warband arrives (most likely one by one, and not in the best shape), he offers a quick cure minor headache cure, and a hearty "Let's be away!"
Vlad arises when he hears the bustle of people preparing for the day, quickly washing his face and donning his hauberk and his variety of weapons. He checks to see if his friend Ragnarr has woken as well, before going outside to meet Dorvarr again.
"Good morning," he mumbles painfully, squinting up at the bright sky.
"My, that feels... better. My thanks, Dorvarr. When the others arrive, we shall indeed be off."
It is a gloomy overcast morning. The night chill is beginning to fade but a light fog persists hanging over the outlying hills beyond town. As Dorvarr's medication and the fresh air relieves some of your pain from last night's revelry (or at least for Ragnarr and Vladimir) a young boy trots up to you.
He is a slight lad with a freckled face and dark hair. As he speaks you can see he is missing several teeth. "I was told by Gudrun to come here to relay a message. She has been summoned by Egil. There was an attack on one of the west shielings last night. Possibly goblins. Gudrun is helping Egil track their quarry through the hills. They rode away a little before dawn. She said to convey her apologies but the road to the logging camp lies north and said that Olaf should be able to help you.' With his message delivered the lad runs off to his morning work.
The logging camp road is a rutted muddy route that winds through the outlying farms before ascending the hills. Judging from Gudrun's map it then dips into a sparsely forested valley, crossing Wolf's Creek via a wooden trestle bridge before reaching the camp at the edge of the woods. As noted earlier the camp is just shy of a day's journey on foot.