Eysteinn looks back at Halla, his face an open display of mixed emotions. "Tell him I ..." he pauses as he struggles to pin down exactly what he should say, "Just tell him what happened here."
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Keeping his voice low, Knute says to Eysteinn, "I agree, it's your choice. Not a bargain I'd take, if I'm honest. Those men don't look like they're here willingly or kept in good health, after all." Eysteinn doesn’t look up from his work. ”I don’t want to take it, either, but what choices do we have? Try to kill the satyr and his men? Halla is right. We can’t risk some of us dying, and the children need us. Those men don’t look to be choosing their actions. So if they are enthralled, he will make them protect himself. Which just means we’d be killing possibly innocent men to get back our children. Seems like a deal with Loki to me, so I will play his game to get you all to those children.”
Eysteinn gives the small woman a grateful look as she addresses the satyr. Anticipating the way this deal is coming together, Eysteinn suddenly feels as if he’s in free-fall. Knowing you’re possibly walking to your death for your people is one thing … being left in the realm of the fae to be mind-controlled and used at its whim. Not exactly what he thought he signed on for. He moves to the back of the crew and sits down. ”Knute, do me a favor and stand between me and that satyr.” He begins pulling reagents from his pouches and pockets, then puts a small stone vial on the ground. ”One of my … drinks may prove useful to you all, but it will only work for the next half-day or so.” He keeps his hands and mind busy, far better to focus on something useful than dread what is about to happen. ”Take this vial. If one of you is damaged. Drink it. It will help.” He doesn’t meet Knute’s eyes, feeling a surge of mixed emotions. Shame at what he knows Knute must be thinking of Eysteinn’s .. work. And rage at feeling this shame. The skills that would get me exiled or executed might just save their lives. After about ten minutes of work, he repacks his various odds and ends, then hands the vial to Knute. ”It’ll only stay good about half a day more. Remember that.”
Then he marches back up the path. Next to Halla, he stops, staring down at the raven-haired woman. ”You’ve got backbone and useful skills. I’m realizing the folly of worrying overmuch of the rights and wrongs of our people. Stop waiting for someone to tell you what to do.” He tries to give her a grin, though it’s weak. ”Or I’ll tell them what happened that shed.” Then he nods to the group and marches up to where Rikka stares down the Satyr, giving the smaller woman a look. Half thanks, half imploring. ”I will see you all later, yes?” Again, his weak grin returns, ”Apparently I have to teach a satyr to brew. Old Yngvi will have fun with that one.” Then he looks to the satyr. ”You release them. And I will come teach you what I know of brewing meads and ales. Then the debt of passage is paid, coming and going.” He removes his glove and holds out his hand, ”Agreed?”
"I have no better ideas," he whispers to the team, hoping they'll come up with something at the last second.
”Not exactly the ‘something else’ I was hoping for, Halla,” mutters Eysteinn with a glare. He raises his voice to the Satyr, ”But if you open your road to us and free those two useless grape-stompers, once we retrieve our children I will come back and teach you everything I know of brewing ales and meads.”
Eysteinn stares at the satyr for a long time, both trying to determine just what all tis “deal” could entail as well as hoping one of his fellow Hofnites would have another plan. Both seem fruitless. ”You’re right. I can’t tell you everything I know about brewing in half a day. My offer was to show you a few ways of ‘manling’ brewing then continue on our way. Our children need us now, and time is wasting.” He looks back at the group, lowering his voice, ”I don’t think he’ll take anything less than what he proposes. Ideas? Unless someone can think of something, either I take the deal,” his voice betrays his distrust and fear of that option, ”or we take his path by force. Let him sweeten his wines with his own blood.”
Eysteinn looks at the satyr and the men stomping behind it. "Brews, huh?" He lifts aside his bulky coat to show his array of steins and flasks. "I know a thing or three of those. If I can find a way to improve upon your brews and process, you'll let us pass?" He looks suspiciously at the men stomping grapes. "And here's a tip for free ... neither of those men look to know a thing of brews. I help you and you let them go."
Eysteinn reinforces the satyr’s Ulfen generalization, staring quietly and bluntly at it … waiting to hear what the orks gave. Though he does give the small Rikka a sideways glance. Who would even think of agreeing to stay with this trickster?
Here. Just crazy busy over the last few days and weekend. Trying to catch up.
Eysteinn is caught between being highly suspicious and equally curious. Suspicion wins out. ”A gift of your time? What gift did you make to those …” he borrows the Satyr’s term, ”… those green skins. If you claim this road, then you must have given them your gift of passage. Do you want to know what they did with this gift of yours? They came to our home in the night, and through fire, steel, and foul magic killed us in our sleep and stole away with our children.” ”Should we still be talking about what’s owed?”
Eysteinn tries to take in the scene, but his focus is on the goat-man, whom he watches suspiciously. ”Fae,” he mutters to the team, ”A satyr, actually. A trickster and seiðr-creature who enjoys enthralling minds, so the stories go. Be wary of his pipes,” he says as he looks beyond at the two working men with suspicion, ”They are said to ensorcel men and women.” He lets his gaze be drawn back to the goat-man, ”Not evil, really, just … lazy and self-indulgent.” Eysteinn doesn’t stow his blade or remove any clothes. ”I am good …” he struggles to know the proper way to address such a creature, ”… Master Satyr.”
Eysteinn, beginning to sweat through the first layers of his clothing, looks over to follow Rikka’s words. ”Yep. That’s about right.” It’s clear he’s not sure what to make of the stanzas or their speaker. ”Though I’m beginning to think there’s nothing the fae do without a price of some kind.” He nods along to some of Tassidar’s words. ”Maybe our singing ork was involved in our children’s taking. Maybe not. But he may have information either way. If you can’t speak to him, well … I know a bit of ork tongue.”
Eysteinn stoops low, pulls off his thick hide glove. He runs his bare hand through the rich, warm grass at his feet. ”Álfheimr,” he mutters, more to himself than for the benefit of the group. Then, curiously, he digs at the earth, pulling up grass roots and the rich dark soil. He brings the handful of living earth to his nose and inhales, taking a long smell. ”Don’t be rude,” he mutters as he releases the earth and dry washes his hand on his furs, ”Don’t ask them for presents. Don’t look too long into their eyes.” All the Hofnites recognize these little phrases. The cautionary phrases taught to every Hofn child about their yearly fay visitors. But he doesn’t stop there, adding phrases that are more strange, more convoluted. ”Don’t ask them their name. Don’t take gifts without giving something in trade.” He points with his long blade at the moss-covered flagstones meandering away from their position. ”… don’t stray from the path.” Then he looks sideways at Tassidar, unable to keep a grin from turning up his lips, "and I don't know what to make of an ork that doesn't sing in ork. Though I guess the song itself has a certain ... orkish quality to it." The somberness returns, "Not that it alters our task."
Eysteinn stands squinting in the brilliant sunlight, trying to shade his eyes with one outstretched hand. If it’s possible, he looks more stunned now than he was moments before when something rooted around in his memories. The young man is speechless. He looks sideways at Knute and shrugs helplessly. Then it hits him … the sound of the singing. And he looks suspiciously in its direction. ”What in the … “ His gaze swings back to Knute and Tassidar, and he whispers, ”It might not know we’re here.” The big Hofnite waits to see if the two group scouts want to take point.
Eysteinn, still on edge from the experience, looks at her quizzically. "How would we know to answer that?" He continues in a mutter, "And the gods know I'd be happy if it kept the memories it drudged up." He stoops when Knute points out the prints, and he allows the immediacy of the moment carry away dark thoughts of the past. "Yes, good eyes, Knute." He gives the others a moment to finish any conversation or preparation before moving on down the tunnel, after the children's prints.
Eysteinn continues looking forward into the darkness, "That's a lot of words to say 'I don't know either', elf."
Eysteinn struggles to shed the strange emotional vertigo. When the moment finally passes, he can’t keep the sullen anger off of his features as he grunts out, ”What was that?” He looks over at the group, seeing a few others seeming to have been similarly affected. ”What is this place?” He searches the gloom around them for some hidden seidr-worker.
The leather of his long blade’s handle creaks as his seidr-enhanced hands grip it tighter. ”I don’t like this.” Regardless, he presses quietly, carefully on.
Eysteinn steps away from the ork body and towards the strange smooth spots on the wall, drawn by curiosity. "There's color here. Pigments? Like these were paintings or murals that have just faded over time." He looks over at the group, especially Rikka and the elf, "That mean anything to you?" He shrugs his wide shoulders, "Either way, I don't know how it helps us find the children. That's our goal, and we're running out of time." He looks over at Knute, "The human blood. Can you tell what made it? Are there any tracks or anything that might tell us if it's children or Thyrmyr?" He looks at the two sets of stairs, ”I’m guessing the ones up go towards the other entrance. And the ones down go to … whatever else this place holds. Given that this place is very strange—and I’m guessing it’s not happenstance that made the orks bring the children here—they are taken to whatever is at the heart of this place.” His steady gaze at the northern stairs heading downwards leaves no question ... Eysteinn thinks that's the best next move, and he seems anxious to head that way quickly.
Eysteinn stoops down to search the ork body. "There should be a passage to the south along the wall," he whispers, "Or more, maybe. If they have doors, lets close them and get a little light. We need to search this place quickly, and that means seeing."
The moment passes and the frozen hand of terror releases his limbs. And with no little bit of effort, Eysteinn forces his nearly-overwhelming fear and concern aside. We all knew what we were coming here to do, he thinks to himself, trying to focus on the task at hand. Anyway, they’ve likely got the easy job. He looks back at the others, keeping his voice low. ”We should move now. Who knows how long their attention will be away from us.” he moves in a quiet, crouching hustle towards the door through which the orks came, constantly watching the southern doors where the sounds of fighting still come.
Thorgal’s plan was straight-forward. Simple. Just like the man. And as much as it grated his nerves to admit it, Eysteinn didn’t have a better one in the moment. So he nodded and crossed the room, helping the small ‘quiet’ team find the most out-of-the-way and out-of-sight position to hide … and then making sure he himself was positioned to intercept any orks who happened to come close enough. Then he looks across the room. Despite the fact that Thorgal more than likely couldn’t see him, and the fact that by Hofn standards, the man wasn’t Eysteinn’s father, Eysteinn gives his father a concerned wave and nod. ‘Take care, old man.’
Eysteinn nods to Yngvi, then let's the elf's head drop to the ground as he looks at the meandering cave corridors. "Too many doors," he grunts as he stands and redraws his blade. "I'll go help, though." He rushes to try to help support their rear flank.
Eysteinn nods to Lord Thorgal's words, then looks to Rikka and the room beyond Leif. "Can we push our lights forward?” Then he sheathes his blade to stoop down to the stabilized elf, picking Tassidar’s head up and working his jaws open. ”Knute,” he mutters, holding a hand up in anticipation. ”Do you still hold that orken healing draught?”
”We need every sword arm,” he grunts to everyone, clearly expecting someone to hand him a healing potion, ”even this one’s.”
Hey, I appreciate the heads up, and I'm sorry for the frustration. That's never a good thing. Let us know how we can help move this thing in the right direction as players, too. :)
In the grips of Wyrmtongue’s song—not to mention his frustration at his own uselessness so far—Eysteinn looks to Rikka as she rushes past him. ”We don’t know how many they are! Do you have any seiðr that will help us hold this hallargólf ?” He looks past her into the dim light, ”Or that will scour them where they stand?”
Eysteinn arrives just too late to actually help out against the ork he'd been pursuing. Growling out a string of orkish curses, he rushes back through the main room and tries to follow the other retreating orks. "We'll either catch them or form a chokepoint," he mutters as he rushes past his father.
Eysteinn, feeling dumber by the second, stumbles through the darkness, longblade gripped in one hand as he gropes blindly with his left. ”To je pravda,” he mutters in the darkness, hoping to catch his prey .. or any of them … before they all disappear into sightless holes, ”ty vraždy prasa, utiecť.” Ork:
”That’s right, you murdering pig, run away.”
:
Eysteinn rushes past his father a second behind Leif. Where the goði’s son tests Rikka’s grease to find a position from which to attack, Eysteinn ignores it altogether, instead attempting a clumsy jump in order to pursue the fleeing ork.
”I’ll go for the runner!”, he grunts as he rushes into the gloom. ”Someone bring a light!”
"The runner goes to warn their leader!" Eysteinn yells to the Ulfen as he steps forward, trying to support his father. "If we can create a hole, I'll go after him!" His attempt to kill the nearest ork is bungled as his lead foot slips in the grease.
Get some good rest, Dien. Or at least get some well-deserved time away from work, anyway.
At the sounds of the voices—not to mention Halla’s warning—Eysteinn moves carefully forward, taking up a position behind his father. When the older man looks back, Eysteinn locks eyes with the man who disowned him, nods once, hefts his blade, and pulls a vial from his pocket. When Thorgal looks about ready to open the door, Eysteinn drinks the Strength draught they found earlier in the caves.
Glad it's done (well, I hope it's done, anyway). :)
Halla:
Eysteinn relays what the wall-message said. ”I guess this Neregh gives the orders,” he mutters while standing up … studiously avoiding eye contact with Yngvi."Always good to put a name to the creature you're trying to kill." He considers the dark iron blades, ”They are outfitted to kill fae?” He looks over at Tassidar and Knute, ”Maybe we can recruit more of them as allies as we come across them. Much like your little frozen friend outside.” He looks around, ”It also makes me think there’s something important about this place. Why did they need to bring our children here when they would have to spend money to bring weapons specifically suited to clearing out those who live here already?” He gives a vague gesture around them, ”As Lord Thorgal said, these hills have caves everywhere, if they just needed a place to run to ground.” He shrugs as he moves to the door, ”It may be nothing, but it’s curious. And I don’t like not knowing.” His eyes find Tassidar and Knute again, ”You two leading off again? I’ll be close behind.”
As Thorgal closes the door, Eysteinn quickly steps forward and drags the unconscious ork woman's body into the room with them. After the door shuts, he searches it.
As he looks, a small smile spreads across his lips. "Not to make light of your terrible situation, but I think we just interrupted this ork woman's breakfast." Then he presses his fingers to her throat, checking for a pulse.
As the ork's features go slack, Eysteinn sidles around the cage, looking for an opportunity to step in quickly.
Thoughts of heroically rushing to cut off the ork's escape swirl though Eysteinn's head, but the realities of the situation force him to disregard them. He considers briefly. "You two," he grunts with a brief look to Rikka and Tassidar, ready to spring into action after the seidr-workers respond, "anything you can do? She could give us information, but she may also give up our surprise."
Eysteinn thinks quickly, then rushes forward. "Cut her off! She may give us information!" He drops his shoulder, bringing his natural bulk to bear on the orc in an attempt to run right over her.
Eysteinn's eyes flash to the door, and he lays a hand on Rikka's shoulder before holding a finger up to his lips for quiet. His blade rasps quietly from its sheath as he motions for everyone to hug the walls and ready weapons.
"I have more than a few recent things not worth remembering," Eysteinn mutters under his breath.
Eysteinn, who'd been entranced into distraction for the last few minutes, steps up beside the squatting Rikka. He clear his throat uncertainly. "I have one, as well," he mutters, drawing a second dwarven puzzle-box out. "I can't imagine being caged forever." He frowns at this, "So you're an echo of a bird. How is it that you got stuck in this cage?" The urgency of their situation seems to be forgotten by Eysteinn in the face of such a mystery. "Do you know who trapped you here? Or why?"
Eysteinn can’t help his curiosity as he watches the bird. ”Well, it’d be fairly terrible to be stuck in a cage, I guess. Or do you choose to be in there?” he asks without any antagonism. ”I’ve heard stories of animals with powerful connections to those who work magics and seidr. Are you such a bird? Or something else?” Eysteinn raises his eyebrows about Yngvi’s revelation about the Lost Prince, then he looks back at the bird. ”Is this true? Is there a lonely Lost Prince somewhere missing his only companion? And if so, what are you doing here?”
"What?" Eysteinn replies to Halla with a playful sarcasm, "Don't I look that tough?" Anticipating her non-entertainment, he shrugs, "Things can get blurry in the chaos of battle. The wound looked worse than it is. Or something." As he moves to look at the bird cage, he nods, though, "But I'll be more careful."
”Loki’s balls!"laughs Eysteinn, looking on in fascination at the talking bird, its fantastic cage, and the circle around it. "But that’s a neat trick. I've never set eyes on a Skald-speaking bird. Yngvi?” He shoulders through the group, getting as close as he can to the door for a closer look.
Continued apologies, guys. I’m trying to keep up. I really am. :/ And sorry to add another delay, but I'll be camping with my son this weekend. Back sunday/monday. i'll be able to post through today and maybe tomorrow, though (if we get to that point in this combat).
"Do any of you brew alcoholic beverages? I would love to share techniques once we have addressed our more pressing concerns." Eysteinn looks over at the elf, then holds one of the sides of his heavy coat open to reveal a series of flasks and jugs strapped to his belt. ”Aye. But just about any Ulfen can tell you that much about ales and meads.” He grins, ”We learn to drink and swing a blade before we walk. It’s what makes us so Ulfen.”
Eysteinn gives Knute’s flask of potion a considering look. ”Should work. Or it might make you shite water for a day.” He gives the hunter a reserved grin, ”but I think that’s not likely.” The tall skald follows Knute into the darkness, following at about a fifteen foot distance, whispering his reply. ”Oh, good! Toys to tinker with.” His whisper takes on a sarcastic edge, ”Lord Thorgal will be thrilled at my usefulness.”
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