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His expression sobering, after a moment, Dagrun says,"Lady, I would ask for a moment to consider. As a human I don't have all that many years, and I wouldn't give one of them away lightly. And memories, especially good ones, are a valuable thing indeed." He pauses, and with a thoughtful look at the elf, he continues. "In fact, with no offense meant, I would ask what it is you propose to give me if I win, since you know my side of the wager."
"Jag är hedrad och tacksam. Jag kommer att sätta detta på ett bra sätt." Dagrun says, with a respectful nod. "You play very well. I feel fortunate to have won at all." He looks at the elf. "Still up for a game? I'd be glad to play most anything."
Dagrun takes the offered seat. "I would very much like to learn how to play Swarm. If you don't mind though, I'd prefer to warm up my mind with a game I already know. So, jarl's guard it is, and hopefully I won't embarrass myself too much." He smiles at both women.
Dagrun gives a polite bow. "My greetings to you both. My name is Dagrun Torgisson, and I hope you're enjoying the festival. I am always up for a game of shah or jarl's guard. I also like to learn new games, so if you've any others to try, I'm open to it." he says, smiling.
Winding his way through the crowds on his way to the board games, Dagrun gives Eysteinn a cheerful smile and wave as he passes his cousin's stall. Briefly catching his father's eye, he gives the elder warrior a respectful nod. Finally arriving at the board games, he looks to see if anyone is waiting for an opponent.
Dagrun smiles at Signy, then at Njall, as he says to the blacksmith, "One should always steel one's self against being proved wrong when dealing with a woman, eh? Especially when she's nailed it. You'd have to have a brass pair to forge on in the face of such logic. Many a foolish man bellows, but the iron-y is that even if you were right, and could prove it, you're wrong as soon as a woman says so." Standing, he picks up his bows. "Signy, it's been a pleasure, as always. Perhaps I'll see you later. Njall, my best to you. I think I am going to try my hand at some more of the games." With a wave, he walks off towards where the games are being played.
"I'm sure you'd have no shortage of willing helpers, Njall. After all, everyone needs the blacksmith. Red Alf, either of my brothers, Old Palli, Eysteinn... I'm sure any of them would be more than happy to assist." He pauses a beat. "I kid, of course. Red Alf is probably too busy."
Dagrun smiles and absentmindedly scratches his arm. "Yes. I'd like to see the rest of the world. And one day I plan to. I don't think it'd surprise anyone much, if I did go. I think my father, in particular, expects it of me, even as he dreads the idea of me doing yet another thing to call attention to my relative oddity." He grins. "But no matter how backwards it may be, this is home, and I will carry it with me everywhere I go. I love these people, and this place. Maybe it's foolish of me to think I can make it "better" but I feel I have to try." Attempting to lighten the mood a bit, he adds, "Unlike you, I can't make it better just by being here. I have to work at it some."
Looking up at the sky, Dagrun gives a wistful smile. "Because I can't not. I don't talk much about this, but... it's as much a part of me as breathing. I see people fight a certain way, and I think, "Why not try something different? What might happen if you did this instead? Why do we discard things that have worked for others, simply because they don't fit with the cultural identity we've assumed?" I try to really live in the world as I make my way through it... the sights, the sounds, the smells and tastes... and I want to understand it all. Why the air smells different just before a thunderstorm, what led to the discovery of the wheel. Can you imagine having been there the first time someone thought that boats could go faster, further, if you hung a giant sheet up to catch the wind?" He looks at Signy before continuing. "I hope you're right. I hope Hofn never knows the likes of true war. Time will tell. But in the meantime, if my dreams are too big for this place, as you've said, I will do what I can to make this place big enough to hold my dreams. You should, too."
"If you sang of--" Dagrun cuts off as he hears the child's scream. With a concerned frown he looks towards the stump. "Wonder what that was about? I hope all is well..." Not hearing any further screams or seeing any signs of alarm, he faces Signy again. "I wouldn't say that I always have my head in books, reading about battles. Sometimes I'm reading about engineering." He grins. "And really, I could be reading about proper feeding and care of pigs and it would be infinitely more interesting than dealing with my brothers. Occasionally, I talk to the logs as I work wood for the same reason."
Accepting the offered seat, somewhat awkwardly due to the two longbows, Dagrun blushes a bit and says, "I suppose I could, but I'm no skald. Most people tend to get bored not long after I launch into the story of a battle. Perhaps it's because, instead of talking about it from the perspective of a soldier in the mud, which I could really only guess about, I talk about what I know, which is orders of battle, troop movements, strategies, battlefield conditions, and outcomes. It interests me enough, especially since the lessons imparted could be used to the benefit of our people... but it's not as glamorous as hearing about knights on the charge, or great swordsmen chopping down fifty foes without a scratch." He smiles at her. "I'd love to hear you sing, though. It would certainly beat my brother's ribald poetry."
Dagrun grins down at Signy. "It's true, there are... but, and I mean this with all due respect to them, there's something somewhat frightening about the fact that I could be talking to an elf who looks no older than you or me, who might in fact be over 100 years old. That said, they are a truly fascinating people, even from just the little I know from my books, and it's not far off to generally say that they are the finest archers in the world, too. Many a battle has been decided by the fall of elven arrows. And just a little bit ago I--" He catches himself and stops. "I'm sorry... I do run on sometimes. How have you been, fair Signy?" he asks, with a sheepish smile.
Dagrun grins at Kjell. "Right, then... if you're alright, I'll be off. Perhaps I'll see you later." With a wave to Kjell and Palli, he trots off after Signy and her friend. Upon catching them, he falls into step, smiles warmly and says, "And here I didn't think I'd see anything more beautiful today than the armbar Kjell placed on that formidable dwarf. I'm happily mistaken. May I join you?"
Dagrun winces as he sees Leif drop Kjell. "Damn... didn't see that coming. Have fun mounting a steed, brother." Walking over to Kjell, he offers his hand to help the big man off the ground. "That was quite the fight. I thought you had him for sure. I'd be worried that this would inflate his ego, but it looks like he's being anything but congratulated over there." Dagrun smiles as Palli as he looks at Kjell's already healed nose. "Excellent work, as always, elder. Where would we be without you?" Out of the corner of his eye, Dagrun sees Signy walking by with a friend and momentarily loses track of his thoughts...
Still fascinated by the elves, Dagrun surreptitiously watches the gray elf out of the corner of his eye while cheering Kjell on in the fight. "Knock some sense into him, Strongarm! A bit more, and he might rival the cattle!"
"Much as I'd like to see that horse rattle what passes for your brain, dear brother, this looks more interesting..." Dagrun points to the ring. "Kjell might be about to knock Leif down a few pegs, and there's few more deserving of the treatment. After that... not sure what I'll do next. Perhaps Ragni will get drunk and try to wrestle more pigs this year. I don't think anyone still holds a grudge about Ástríðr Alfridsdottir... with enough alcohol and the right light, anyone might have made that mistake. Poor child. Anyway... time to go watch a fight!"
After cheering for Kjell, Dagrun gives Finnviðr a smug grin. "How much did you just lose, brother? As for my new bow, I won it in the archery competition. What about you? Have you or Rags competed yet?"
Dagrun eyes the competitors as he eases free of Finnviðr's grip. "Much as it pains me, brother, I have to say that I'm with Rags on this one... I think Kjell's going to win." He tries to find a good spot to see over the crowd, but it's awkward going now that he is carrying two longbows.
Realizing that it was luck as much as skill that carried him to a win in the archery contest, Dagrun examines the new bow appreciatively, marvelling at the craftsmanship. "I can't wait to show this to my father and brothers. Where are they?" With a wave at Red Alf, and a respectful nod to the other competitors, Dagrun heads towards the wrestling, eyes peeled for his family.
With a grin at Red Alf, Dagrun steps to the line. Focusing intently on the target as the world around him fades into the background, he looses three arrows as fast as he can draw them...
...and is satisfied with his performance, as the sounds of the festival come back to the fore. He steps back, excited to see how he fares against the other competitors.
Dagrun watches as the various archers prepare their equipment and ready themselves to compete. Setting his longbow and quiver down carefully, he starts doing some light warm up work, jogging in place, and swinging his arms in circles. The sight of the bowmen reminds him of a stratagem he'd read about once, carried out by one Duke Ylthis, a minor warlord involved in a border dispute between two countries that no longer existed except on very old maps. The Duke took a cohort comprised of 300 mercenary archers, dressed as light infantry, and 100 actual infantry, and marched them to a keep he intended to take and garrison. Arriving before sunrise, he had each of the archers lay a longbow in the grass by their feet, and conceal quivers under their cloaks. The Duke parleyed with the enemy commander, and successfully goaded him into meeting on the field. Once the enemy soldiers were formed up, the Duke gave the command and his archers grabbed their bows and began firing at will into the enemy formation, quickly breaking the ranks of the enemy, who attempted to flee back into the keep as the Duke's infantry ran them down. The biggest flaw in such a plan, in Dagrun's mind, was -- THUMP! Dagrun was jolted out of his thoughts by the impact of his hand on someone else. Turning, he saw that he'd struck one of the elves. "Mae'n ddrwg iawn gennyf. Yr wyf yn ei golli yn fy meddyliau a mynd yn ddiofal. Os gwelwch yn dda maddau i mi!" Chuckling, the elf replied, "Peace, friend. It was an accident, and no harm was done. Your apology is gratefully received and accepted. And while your grasp of our language is impressive, perhaps if we speak yours we can avoid making anyone around us feel as though they are being excluded? My name is Lirienthelas. Might I ask yours?" Eyes wide as saucers, Dagrun manages to stammer out, "D-Dagrun... is my name, yes." Taking a deep breath, he continues, "Forgive me. I learned to speak your tongue mostly from books, and I've never had the chance to actually speak with an elf before." Smiling, Lirienthelas says, "Well, today is a lucky day for you. Not only have you spoken with your first elf, you will get to see one win the archery contest, too." With a wink and a wave he walks toward the firing line.
Having in the first five minutes exhausted any hope of intelligent conversation from his beloved brothers, Dagrun turns to his father. "I'm going to take my leave for a bit. Wander about, see things. Maybe even talk to some of the elves. If I don't run into you again, I'll see you at home." With that, he wanders off, admiring the goods on display as he strolls along, nodding polite greetings to people he knows and offering awkward smiles to those he doesn't. He eventually makes his way to the archery contest, watching the shooters with interest, hoping to see some elves take a turn.
Dagrun looks up at Ragni. "Let us hope he doesn't have a child's mind, like yours, to go with it, brother." he says. Turning away for a moment to give Ragni sufficient time to try to think up a response, he spots his cousin Eysteinn in the crowd, a child on his shoulders.Smiling, he waves in acknowledgement.
The day began for Dagrun as most do. Having stayed up too late reading a book on strategy (Tunnel Warfare by a dwarf called Grunder Stoneoath), he slept through breakfast, and was unamused when his elder brother Finnviðr came into his room and woke him by grabbing one edge of his straw mattress and lifting, spilling Dagrun onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and books. Unleashing a stream of Dwarven profanity, Dagrun chased Finn from the room, and out of the house, only to find that it had been a setup. His other brother, Ragni, was waiting alongside the front door with a large bucket of cold water. As Dagrun stood there, soaked and shaking, his brothers doubled over with laughter, Torgi walked out of the house. Shaking his head, he started down the lane towards the town gate, saying over his shoulder to Dagrun, "Get cleaned up, and meet us there, boy." After making himself presentable, Dagrun arrived at the gate just in time to witness a child opening a pouch full of... butterflies? With a smile, Dagrun began to search the crowd for his family.
Yeah, I'm glad this seems to be the sort of game that will be friendly to that approach. I greatly prefer it to the "Fighterz must have 18 str or dont apply" types. :D This looks like a fun, eclectic group.
Works for me, as well. I think it's a cool idea.
Sorry for the holdup. Busy weekend, yadda yadda. Really excited for this. :) GM Dien: Yes, Dagrun is the youngest of three. He has two older brothers, both of whom I envisioned as the more traditional style of Ulfen warriors, but I'm open to changing that if there's something that fits better...
Background:
"Little" Dagrun was always a bit different. Of slighter stature than most of his peers, he was further distinguished by his enormous appetite for knowledge and voracious reading. Preferring his books to physical activities, he nonetheless applied himself as best he could to the lessons taught by his father, Torgi the Blue, a warrior of no small renown. Dagrun's relatively small stature, however, left him with less aptitude than either of his brothers when it came to heavy weapons and armor, even though he was quicker and more coordinated than either of them.
Recognizing that his youngest son would not be a warrior in the traditional sense of their people, Torgi helped the lad learn to play to his strengths, focusing on light melee weapons that were better suited to Dagrun's agility, and spending a fair amount of time on archery. In defiance of the prevailing social customs, he also made sure the boy received a solid education. There were books about social and military history, mathematics and engineering, and the composition of the natural world, and discussions with some of the more learned people of the region to answer any questions that the books (and Torgi) could not. The boy took to all of this quickly, developing a fighting style that involved techniques, such as disarming foes, or tripping them, rather than just trying to deal as much damage as possible. He would also talk over dinner of battles and strategies, fortifications, siege warfare, leadership styles of past battle-leaders, and defensive habits of certain animals and how those habits might be applied to war. His size, using a "child's weapons", and spending a lot of time reading gave Dagrun the social equivalent of the plague, however, and he was alone every moment that he wasn't being picked on. Though he was generally a good-natured sort, the brighter bullies left him alone when they realized that they were intellectually outclassed, for fear (which Dagrun encouraged) that he might plot some sort of intricate revenge that they'd never see coming until it was too late. As a man, "Little" Dagrun (the name stuck, as in his full growth he is still smaller than most of his peers) does all he can to show that knowledge and fighting don't need to mutually exclude one another, and while his methods have not caught on within his society as a whole, he has the respect of his friends and family, and that is enough for him. Appearance:
"Little" Dagrun stands 5'8" tall, and weighs 165 lbs, with the lean build of a distance runner. He has shoulder-length, unkempt blond hair, and clear blue eyes. His clothes are often rumpled, and he is usually in need of a shave. He is frequently covered in wood shavings from time spent working on his various "devices", and he usually has ink stains on his fingers, as well. He will often be found staring off into space, chewing on his lower lip as he considers some point of historical lore... Personality:
Dagrun is a polite, intelligent young man, with the slight social awkwardness of someone who prefers books to people. Despite this, he is friendly in his own way, and fiercely loyal to his friends and family. He is driven by the desire to learn and experience things, and to apply whatever he learns to a better understanding of combat and warfare, for the protection of his people. He can be sarcastic, but some of the sting is taken out by the realization that he fully expects to get as good as he gives. He is single, and the thought of relationships both appeals to him and terrifies him, because as much as he'd like a woman, he isn't sure he'll find one who can be understanding of the fact that she'll often come in second to his desire to know things... Crunch: Lore Warden Fighter 1 Init +3; Perception +2 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 Armor, +3 Dex, +1 Dodge) HP 11 (1d10+1) Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +3 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. Melee Rapier +4 (1d6+1/18-20 x2) Melee Dagger +4 (1d4+1/19-20 x2) Ranged Longbow +4 (1d8/x3, 100 ft.) -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 13, Dex 17, Con 13, Int 18, Wis 13, Cha 10 BAB +1; CMB +2; CMD 15 (+1 against trip/disarm) Feats Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Iron Will Skills Craft: (Siege Engines) +9, Intimidate +8, Kn. (History) +8, Kn. (Engineering) +8, Kn. (Nature) +8, Perception +2, Swim +5, UMD +5 Languages Common Gear Rapier, Dagger, Studded Leather
Weapon Proficiency: Proficient with all simple and martial weapons
(Social) Bruising Intellect - May use Intelligence modifier in place of Charisma modifier for Intimidate checks. |
