INGVAR THE STOUT
Axe-Age, Sword-Age, pt. II


978 A.D.

The shore of Lake Vänern, Sweden

..........

It's the following morning when you wake up. One of the villagers 
considerately laid a blanket over you, but you've otherwise been left 
alone in this hut.

The discussion about you seems to still be going on, outside, or maybe 
it was just renewed as the villagers rose to put their fishing boats out on 
the lake, and cast their nets.

" -come on, he doesn't LOOK like a troll!"

"And he's far too small to be a giant."

"Have you ever actually SEEN what a troll looks like, Ospak?"

"He looks like an idiot who goes wandering through the woods naked is 
what he looks like!"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Awareness comes slowly as the sunlight comes creeping into the hut.  A 
chill runs over his body as he notices the bite in the still morning air.  He 
shivers, and yet he is warmer than he has been at any time since he 
woke up in the snow... how many days ago?  He can't say.

Sitting up, he pulls the blanket tightly around him and looks to see if the 
fire yet burns.  Sounds difting in through the open doorway resolve into 
conversation - about him!  Their wild speculation causes him to chuckle.  
Again, he realizes that he will have to explain himself soon.

He has know idea if the tale of  his shame has extended this far south.  
Just in case, he decides to call himself something else so that they won't 
recognise the name.  Thinking about how all this came to pass, he 
decides to take a name in honor of his father... Angmar he shall be.

Now he has to decide what to tell them about how he comes to be 
walking naked through the woods covered in snow and ice.  This is a 
tough one...

He tries out and discards several ideas, from the almost believable to 
the ridiculous.  Finally, he settles on one story.  He has been fishing 
many times in his life, and getting wet would explain the ice and snow.  It 
would also explain being naked.  It is a good story, and it is *certainly* 
better than the truth!

Hunger rumbles through his stomach, but he won't beg.  He waits a little 
while to see if the villagers come to talk to him.  If not, then he will get up 
and wander outside, the blanket still wrapped tightly around him...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Eventually one of the men peeks his head inside, and sees that you're 
awake.

"Ah....good morning!" he says.

Then, in very slow speech, emphasizing each word with gestures, as if 
speaking to a very slow child- "You....like...to....eat?"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Turning from the small fire, Ingvar gazes up at the man.  Despite, or 
perhaps because of, his recent travails, he is in a surprisingly good 
mood.  "Good morning!" he replies ebuliently to the man.

Ingvar's brows lower a bit as the man speaks, but his joy at being 
warm(er) again dampens his inclination to anger.  When the man's 
question is finally out of his mouth, Ingvar chuckles broadly.  "Yes, I 
*love* food! <pats stomach>  Rather fond of *ale*, as well."

A bit more seriously, Ingvar continues on.  "Thanks for the fire and 
blanket - *and* the food!  You and your fellows have spared me from a 
bad trip to Hel.  If I could get some clothes, I will ply my trade as you like 
to repay my debt to you."

<><><><><>

[GM]

The man's eyes bug open. "You can talk!?" he exclaims, mouth gaping.

Finally he closes it, as his friends crowd around him. "Ummm, well, er, 
that is.....so, who are you?"

"And what were you doing out in the woods naked?" asks another.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Frowning, "Of course, I can bloody well talk!"

Uh-oh.  So here it is.  He knew this moment would come.  "I am Angmar, 
a woodcarver."

A grimace, and then a deep breath.  "Not by choice.  I went fishing early 
yesterday morning.  I slipped on some slick rocks and fell in.  Somehow, 
I managed to climb out.  My clothes were soaked and quickly turning to 
ice, so I took them off.  I began to hike back towards home, but I was 
freezing.  My brain became as numb as my body, and I must have gotten 
lost.  Despite falling in the snow several times, I managed to continue 
wandering until I reached your village.  Without your aid, I probably 
would have died soon."

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Ah, well," says the first man. "Er, my name is Ospak. My wife will be 
bringing you some food shortly. A woodworker, eh? We could probably 
use some of your skills here. So, what village are you from?"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

A large grin spreads across his broad features.  "Ah, well met, Ospak!  
More food, eh?  *Great*!  I *am* hungry again."

The smile fades as he takes a brief look about the village.  "Yes.  I see a 
couple places around here where my skills can be put to good use." 
Without thinking about it, he goes ahead and mentions the town he's 
from [I don't think we ever named it].  He looks around at the group of 
villagers before him.  "After I eat, where would you people like me to 
start working first?"  Never having been one to sit around on his butt, 
Ingvar fully expects to get right to work on repaying his debt to these 
people.  And the sooner he does so, the sooner he can get back to 
settling scores with a certain clan...

<><><><><>

[GM]

The villagers are quite happy to put you to work. After a couple of days, 
you've easily repaid your debt, though you're beginning to make friends 
with Ospak and his kin. However, it's time to think about moving 
on....either across the Skagern to Gullspång, or back to your home 
village. What exactly you'll do at either place is not something you've yet 
spent much time thinking about....

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Ingvar enjoys his time working in this small village.  Ospak and his kin 
have consistantly treated him well, and he begins to think of them as 
friends.  As the days stretch on, he begins to realize that the time to 
move on is coming.

While working to repair the hole in Magnus's boat, he begins to make 
plans.  He will continue here until he can call the clothes on his back his 
own, and also has enough coin in his pocket to buy a ride across the 
river and set up work in Gullspång.  He has been using tools belonging 
to various townsfolk, but he will need to buy his own once he reaches 
the city.  He hopes that he will be able to get work quickly, but he should 
make sure that he has enough money for a couple of days, just in case 
work isn't as plentiful as he would like.

Once in Gullspång, he will work until he has enough money for a good 
axe, maybe a chain shirt (or at least a shield), some extra clothes, and a 
few travelling essentials.  Then, it will be time to return north and settle 
his affairs, once and for all...

<><><><><>

[GM]

The village actually has precious little to spare, so the amount of extra 
work they can afford to pay you for is soon completed, and you're left 
with a very meager amount of silver....but with being ferried across the 
inlet as part of the bargain, at least it's a beginning.

You'd never actually priced chainmail shirts before, not having a need 
for them. You nearly choke when you learn how much they cost. The 
price of a simple vest is nearly a quarter of what you might earn in an 
average year!

For two weeks, you wander Gullspång doing odd jobs which are barely 
enough to pay for your keep. You finally manage to get hired as part of 
the construction crew for a new house one of Gullspång's merchants is 
building for his newly-married son. After one month, however, comparing 
your income with your living expenses reveals that at this rate, even 
living frugally it will take several months to save enough to buy even an 
axe, and a chainmail shirt is years away.

Amidst these meloncholy thoughts, you continue with the house-building 
project (which will end in another month or two, and then you'll be back 
to searching for another job). A strange thing happens to you one 
afternoon; your hand slips while shaving down a beam, and you gash 
your other hand with the blade. Not an unusual occurence; after the 
usual outburst of expletives, you go looking for a strip of cloth to wrap 
around your hand so you can get back to work. However, by the time 
you find one, the bleeding has stopped. In fact, wiping away the blood, 
you find that the skin is completely unbroken, as if the minor wound had 
all been your imagination.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

It's only been a couple weeks, and he already misses Ospak and the 
others, not to mention his own family!  With all the people here in 
Gullspång, it seems strange that friends would be so few and far 
between.  And money seems even more distant; he never expected that 
work would be so hard to find in a town this size, but then he never 
really thought about there being so many other woodworkers here.

Ingvar feels like his eyes are going to explode when he visits the 
blacksmith and sees just how much a chainmail shirt goes for.  That's 
outrageous!

Finding a steady job for awhile gives him some sense of hope.  He 
spends quite a bit of time thinking about whether he might do better to 
move to one of the larger cities on the coast, or perhaps wander about 
and find a small village that lacks a woodcarver.  Deciding to delay a 
decision until the current job is done, Ingvar tries not to let anything 
deter him from his plans for vengeance...

"*OW*!!!  #@&&^% #^$$@# *&^%!!!"  That *hurt*!  Looks down at his 
hand, shock holding him motionless for a second.  Then he turns and 
begins searching for a rag to bind the wound.  As he does so, he holds 
that hand with the palm presses against his shirt over his ribs.  
Eventually, he finds a chunk of cloth that seems suitable, and carefully 
pulls his injured hand away from his chest.  Seeing that it doesn't seem 
to be bleeding much anymore, he feels pleased that the wound is 
apparently not too serious.  He folds the cloth into a rough compress 
and the then wipes away the rest of the semi-dried blood.  The sight that 
this reveals to him causes him to stagger for a second!  He stares down 
at his hand, his mind spinning and his knees weak.  This *can't* be true!  
Where is the wound?!  There isn't even a *scar*!!!  He knows he didn't 
imagine it; he can still feel a shadow of the pain where the blade bit into 
his hand.  He has cut himself enough times over the years (and has [or 
at least, had] the scars to prove it), that he knows that this just *cannot* 
happen!

What can be happening?  In an attempt to prove to himself that he isn't 
dreaming or going mad, he remembers the time that his axe slipped 
several years ago and took a small chunk out of his leg.  Realizing that 
he hadn't paid any attention to it recently, he lifts the leg of his pants, 
slowly and carefully, to look at the spot...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Beneath your pants leg, the scar is still there, like always.

One of your coworkers yells "Hey, Ingvar! What are you doing, relieving 
yourself? Hurry up and help me with this crossbeam!"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

There is something reassuring about finding the scar where he expects 
it to be.  Ingvar takes another look at his hand, poking it gently his other 
finger to verify that he isn't 'seeing things'.

"Oh.  Uh... *COMING*!" he yells back.  Ingvar shakes his head and trots 
over to assist.  Work resumes, but questions that he has no answers for 
continue to buzz in his head.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Another month passes....with nothing of any interest occurring. You 
continue to work, make just enough to save a tiny amount, and sense 
your goal of vengeance becoming more and more distant. However, if 
you continue, you should be able to buy an axe and shield in, oh, six 
months. And if you want that chainmail shirt, you could be ready to 
march back home, fully armed and armored to confront Harald Firehair's 
clan, in just under three years.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

As the weeks pass, Ingvar comes to realize that the chain shirt he 
wanted was beyond his reach.  However, he *will not* be deterred from 
obtaining the axe.

Every night, he sees his wives and the children in his dreams and he 
wonders how they are and whether they still live.  He knows that if he 
were more of a man and warrior, he would have saved or avenged them 
by now.  Unfortunately, this just adds to the guilt and shame that he 
already burdens himself with.

<><><><><>

[GM]

You manage to stay steadily employed for another three months, at the 
end of which you finally have enough money to visit a blacksmith's shop 
and pick out a good, heavy hand-axe. With another month or two of 
work, you could probably buy a shield too....but with at least the illusion 
of the means of vengeance in your very hands, patience is hard to find.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Taking his brand-new axe back to his room, Ingvar sits before the fire.  
As he strokes the tool/weapon lovingly, he imagines just what he will do 
with it, and to whom...

As every day passes, the war rages within him.  The need to punish his 
enemies nearly overwhelms him, but then memories of being cut down, 
not once but twice in succeeding days, flood his mind.  Memories of 
searing pain and cold are all that stand between him and immediately 
heading back north again.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Almost three more long, weary months pass. At last, with the total of 
your savings, you have acquired an axe, a cheap shield that will 
probably be good for one battle, and a short sax tucked in your belt. 
Along with the clothes on your back, to which you added a thin, second-
hand fur cloak, a full wineskin, and enough dried meat to last almost a 
week, this now makes up the sum total of your worldly possessions. This 
is hardly how you envision an epic hero is accoutered when embarking 
on a quest for vengeance, but your quest is hardly epic....not until you 
succeed, anyway.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Several times as the months have dragged on, Ingvar has nearly given 
in to the urge to begin his quest for revenge even less prepared than he 
is now.  Looking down at his meager supplies, he knows he should 
continue his preparations, but he just *can't* wait any longer without 
knowing how his family fares.

Slinging his bag of supplies over his shoulder, he leaves the room he 
has lived in for so long without a second look.  Ingvar trudges through 
town, hardly noticing the warmth of the rising sum.  Wandering down to 
the landing, he searches about for a boat to catch a ride back across the 
river.

Eventually, he finds someone willing to ferry him across, and Ingvar 
uses the last of his cash to pay the man's fee.  Reaching the far bank, 
he begins the long trek up the path leading north towards where he has 
spent his entire life.  As he walks, memories come back to him and he is 
thankful that, at the least, he doesn't have to worry much about freezing 
to death in the snow.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your trek through the woods is longer than the trek out that you 
remember. Of course, now there is no snow, though the nights are still 
chilly.

As you approach the far shore, where your village is located, memories 
of your two previous deaths (or so they seemed at the time) come back 
to haunt you. What will happen if you are cut down a third time? You 
know that your appearance in the town last time, when everyone had 
thought you were dead, was nothing compared to the reaction you're 
likely to get if you come wandering up the road again in broad daylight.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

The trek seems long, though he is not surprised that it seemed shorter 
last time, considering that he was numb and nearly delirious at the time.  
He has made the trip enough times to have some idea what to expect 
though.  Admittedly, his desire, no, *need* for revenge makes it seem an 
eternity.

As he approaches home, fears of what kind of reception await him begin 
to assail his thoughts.  In a rare moment of forsight, he decides to stay 
hidden for a while.  Moving off the road, he begins to circle the town, 
trying to catch glimpses of what may be happening from within the cover 
of the surrounding forest.  Within the thicker copses, he moves closer to 
the edge of the clearing and looks out between the trees, attempting to 
assess the village's current circumstances and those of his kin living 
here.


It is obvious to him that his revenge will not be surved by a straight 
frontal assault such as he attempted before.  He begins to plan.  At 
night, he will camp further back in the woods.  Tomorrow, he will head to 
the neighboring village, and begin to watch the home of his enemies, in 
much the manner he is using now.  He wants to remain unseen for a 
while yet.  If Thor and Tyr are smiling upon him, he may even be able to 
catch a few of those mis-begotten she-goats moving about their 
business alone...  He smiles to himself and strokes the axe hanging from 
his belt, as he continues to watch the town.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Village life seems normal. You fail to see any of the kin that you took 
with you on your last attempt to attack Ole's clan.

You spend an uncomfortable night out in the cold, though nowhere near 
as bad as too-recent memories. The next morning, you see Ole himself 
riding into town, on a fine new horse. People make way for him, fearfully.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

He has all too good an idea where his kin may be.  His heart grows a 
little bit colder.  As he heads away from his home village, Ingvar pauses 
to take a last look at what is left of the home where he lived for so many 
years...

A few bits of dried meat for his breakfast, Ingvar strives to warm up 
enough to stop shivering.  And yet, he feels in some way that the cold is 
his friend.  After all, didn't it keep him from bleeding to death that first 
night in the snow so many months ago?

Shortly after, Ingvar's eyes gleam as he watches Ole ride into town.  The 
sight of that pompous b****** brings memories of Angmar and his brutal 
fate.  Pain that he can never voice, anger, and hatred begin to simmer 
deep in his gut.  Moving through the woods, he moves in the direction of 
Ole's path into town.  Taking his time, he carefully surveys the route, 
looking for places where it passes through the woods.  If such exists, he 
will select the thickest part of woods that the path pierces, and settle in 
there.  If the path doesn't actually pass through the woods, then he will 
find the closest thicket to the path and wait there.  Here he plans to 
catch Ole on his trip back home later in the day.

As he waits, he will look about for the straightest sapling of the proper 
diameter that he can find.  Cutting a 6-8 foot length, he moves back to 
his place of watching and begins to carve a point on crude spear, much 
as he did once before.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The path through the woods is quite thick in several places. You choose 
a suitable spot, and lay in wait, sharpening and sharpening your 
makeshift spear.

The first time you hear a noise, you tense and get ready to 
pounce.....but it's a man on foot, not on horse. You don't recognize him, 
but he's carrying trapping gear and a small bow, indicating that he's 
probably just a hunter heading to his preferred hunting grounds. You let 
him pass, and settle down and wait again.

Long after sundown, while you huddle, shivering in the woods once 
again, you hear a horse snort, and come traipsing up the trail.

It's dark enough you can't be sure it's Ole, but there aren't many people 
who own horses for riding around here, even fewer that would happen to 
be coming in this direction.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

The day drags on and on.  Ingvar fidgets and carves and wanders in 
small circles, stamping his feet.  A couple of times he throws his spear at 
small animals that have wandered too close, but his aim is wide.

Finally, as he sits scraping the point of his 'spear' against a rough stone 
to improve the point, he hears a sound from up the path.  Crouching 
down, he waits, peering through the brush.  As the sound moves closer, 
Ingvar rubs the shaft of his axe in anticipation as he waits for a sight of 
the approaching traveller.  Slowly, the man comes into view.  *Damn*!  
It's not him.  No horse, no overbearing manner - just a hunter looking for 
a new range.  Disappointment beats down on Ingvar's mood; he curses 
and goes back to scraping and rubbing.

Minute after minute, hour after hour, Ingvar waits. Impatience gnaws at 
his willpower.  Several times the urge to just rush back to the house and 
charge in wells up, but he beats it down, remembering all too well what 
happened last time he tried that.

The soft neigh of an approaching horse catches him relieving himself 
behind a tree.  Finishing precipitously, he spins around and crouches 
once again.  He watches as the horse approaches, trying to get a peek 
at the rider.  The horse draws closer, and he continues to watch, trying 
to guage it's speed and the best time to begin his attack.  He also takes 
occassional glances further down the trail to see if there are others 
following along.

His plan is to emerge from the woods at such at time as to approach the 
horse from the side, reaching it just as it comes parallel to his current 
position.  He will move at a half-run with his axe in his left hand, throwing 
his spear as he gets close in an attempt to startle and distract the rider.  
Continuing to try to identify the rider, he will step close and attack with 
the blade of his axe if it's Ole or one of his kin.  If he's unsure who it is, 
he will use the opposite, flat end of the blade to try to unseat the rider.  
Of course, if he is able to tell that it is someone he shouldn't attack, then 
he will veer off and charge into the woods on the other side.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your approach is considerably less stealthy than you hoped, and the 
only effect throwing your spear has is that the rider becomes quite aware 
of your intentions. The crude wooden thing goes flying very wide of the 
horse, and the rider curses.

You *think* it's Ole's voice you hear snarling "You chose the wrong 
traveler to ambush, bandit!" There is a sharp hissing sound, of metal 
against metal, and then a silvery gleam in the moonlight, burnished steel 
in the hand of your quarry. His horse neighs fearfully and dances around 
a bit, but does not rear up.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Cursing as the spear flies wide of its mark, Ingvar continues to close at a 
rapid pace.  *That voice* is enough to convince him that he has found 
the one he was seeking.  Knowing that he has lost all element of 
surprise as he sees the sword glittering in the moonlight, Ingvar decides 
that there is nothing left for it but to continue on, glad that there are not 
more of them to deal with.

Stepping close to the horse, he tries to get inside the sword's 
comfortable reach.  Ingvar brings his own axe up and attempts to plant it 
in the man's stomach or chest.  His is as concerned with trying to drag 
Ole from the saddle as with actually cutting him, so he doesn't worry 
about whether he is using the edged or blunt end of the blade.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Rather to your surprise, you manage to slip right beneath Ole's first 
swing, and bring your axe whirling around in an arc that terminates at his 
chest. The blade sinks into him with a solid "thwack!", almost like 
chopping into a soft log, and he exhales in one long, startled breath. You 
have to yank on the handle of your axe to pull it free, and the rider 
begins sliding off the horse on the opposite side.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

A surge of exhultation explodes in Ingvar's chest as he feels as much as 
sees his axehead bite into Ole's chest.  Tearing it free, with no particular 
attempt at gentleness, he senses Ole sliding off the other side of the 
horse.  Immediately, he ducks around the horse and approaches the 
rider on the ground.  Raising his axe high, Ingvar aims another blow at 
Ole's chest.

If he lands another solid blow, rather than pulling out the axe, Ingvar will 
leave it where it is.  Then, drawing his sax, he will slit Ole's throat as 
quickly as possible.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Ole lies on the ground making gurgling sounds, until you hit him with the 
axe a second time. Then he lies still. Cutting his throat was probably 
redundant. As you finish him off, his horse shies away, whinnying 
fearfully.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Ingvar slips his sax back into it's sheath, and pulls his axe loose from 
Ole's chest.  He wipes the blade clean on the man's torn-up jerkin and 
then shifts the axe to his left hand.  Grabbing the bloody corpse by the 
lapel with his right hand, Ingvar drags it into the woods alongside the 
trail, well out of sight of passers-by.  If the sword was dropped in the 
open area, he will resheath it before dragging Ole away.

Setting down the axe and the body, he steps close to the edge of the 
cover.  Looking up and down the path, he tries to determine if there is 
anyone coming and if the horse is still around.  If there is someone on 
the path or the horse is gone, he will return to the body.  If the path is 
clear and the horse is in sight, he will move slowly toward the frightened 
animal making cooing noises and attempting to settle it.  If it will let him 
approach, he will take the reins in hand, pat it a few times, and lead it 
into the woods out of sight of the body, where he tie it off to a tree.  Then 
he will return to the body.

When he reaches Ole's body, and is fairly certain that he's not about to 
be immediately attacked by someone else, he will begin to loot Ole's 
body for anything of value, including his sword and clothes.  Anything 
that belonged to the b****** that murdered his father is his by rights, by 
the gods!

<><><><><>

[GM]

The horse shies away from you, not running, but also too wary to let you 
approach easily. You end up "chasing" it for a short distance, before it 
finally consents to let you get within arm's length, and it remains skittish 
as you guide it by the reins back towards the body of its former owner. It 
jerks at the reigns, and whinnies in protest, and generally continues to 
behave in an erratic manner. Its nerves have probably been frayed 
enough that you aren't sure you'd want to try riding it right now.

Besides the sword, Ole is also carrying a knife of much better quality 
than your sax, and a purse of silver coins. His clothes are of a better 
quality than any you ever owned. He seems to have been doing well for 
himself, these past few months.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Due to it's extreme skittishness, Ingvar takes extra care to keep the 
horse well away from the body of it's *former* - he thinks with a satisfied 
grin - master.  Taking a circuitous route he leads it well back into the 
woods (several dozen meters) before returning to Ole's body.

Now that he has a little time to work with, Ingvar sets about collecting 
Ole's possessions.  He belts the sword and knife about his own waist, 
stuffing the pouch of coins inside his shirt.  The shirt is obviously 
trashed, but the tunic / jacket may well be able to be saved with some 
sewing.  He'll have to find someone to take care of that for him.  Lastly, 
he strips Ole of his pants and boots, which he ties up into a bundle with 
the tunic, fastening it by tying the tunic's sleeves together around the 
outside of the bundle.  

Leaving Ole's body lying there in the brush, wearing nothing but his 
bloody torn shirt and his undergarments, Ingvar grabs up the bundle and 
heads back toward the horse.  He stops to soothe and pat the large 
steed once again.  It may well be as valuable as any animal he has ever 
owned, it is certainly finer than the one he had... before.

Collecting the reins, he leads the horse in a search for a good place to 
make camp for the night.  Once he finds a suitable location, he wraps 
the leather reins about a stout sapling.  A small fire and some food, and 
he is ready for sleep.  Ingvar uses the extra clothing he acquired from 
his father's killer to wrap up in extra warmth as best he can.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Dawn the next morning is chilly, but wrapped in the extra clothing you 
took from Ole, much less unpleasant than the night you spent laying in 
wait for him.

Your fire has grown cold. The horse snorts as you begin stirring, waking 
from its own standing slumber.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Waking in the chill morning, Ingvar sits up and takes of deep breath of 
the crisp morning air.  Ahh... D*** that's good!  The extra clothing worked 
so well that he hardly feels the cold.  Standing, he takes a moment to 
stretch his muscles that have grown hard from sleeping on the bare, cold 
ground.  Hearing the horse snort, he moves over to pat and soothe it.

If they fit, he will wear Ole's pants rather than his own, and the tunic 
(despite the damage) over his shirt.  Putting the remaining clothes in his 
pack, he straps on the belt with the sword and knife, slides his shield up 
his left arm, and grabs his axe with his right.  Once more approaching 
the horse, he will untie it from the sapling and lead it in search of a 
grassy clearing.

He enjoys the walk through the woods; it reminds him of the better parts 
of his work - searching for good wood to build things with.  If he finds a 
suitable clearing, he will let the horse graze while he has a few bites of 
breakfast.  His mind floats as he contemplates his next move.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The horse is a bit calmer now, but it still doesn't seem entirely at ease 
around you. You've never known horses to be particularly loyal, or 
bright, animals, but apparently the violence you did last night left a 
lingering impression.

Ole's farm is not far from here....by now, his kin may be wondering 
where he is, and even coming to look for him. Most likely thinking he 
found a wench and decided to stay the night in town, or else fell 
staggering drunk in the woods along the way home.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

As he sits eating his breakfast, Ingvar thinks.  He begins to wonder 
whether this magnificent steed will ever get over its skittishness around 
him.  If not, he may have to sell it and buy another; he is fairly certain 
that he can get a good price for it back in Gullspang.

Drawing the sword from the sheathe at his hip, Ingvar caresses the 
blade lovingly.  Knowing that he really doesn't know how to wield it, he 
may well end up selling it as well.  Then again, he would really enjoy 
keeping it as a momento of his vengeance.

When he finishes, Ingvar rises and removes the swordbelt.  He 
resheathes the sword and then unbuckles the swordbelt.  Swapping out 
his sax for the better knife he acquired yesterday, he hangs the entire 
swordbelt in a nearby tree on the edge of the clearing.  Next, he collects 
the horse and ties it's reins low down on a different tree on the edge of 
the clearing where there is plenty of grass to eat.  Hopefully, if someone 
stumbles upon the horse in the clearing, they won't notice the fine sword 
up in another tree.  His pack with the extra clothes, he straps onto the 
horse behind the saddle [did they use saddles then?]

Ingvar slides the shield onto his left arm and, checking the knife at his 
belt, picks up his axe.  Setting off through the woods, he heads towards 
Ole's farm.  When he starts to get near the clearing, he slows and does 
his best to move quietly and carefully.  If he gets close to the edge of the 
clearing, he will stop and watch the farm, much as he did yesterday 
morning.  If he doesn't see anyone, he will slowly move through the 
woods towards the path into town.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Ole's farm has a normal assortment of sons and wives moving about 
doing chores....including a couple of the sons who helped kill you and 
your cousins. At the moment, there is no alarm evident in the household, 
and no one seems to be mounting a search party to go find the absent 
patriarch.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Moving about the edge of the woods, Ingvar observes the various 
goings-on from many different angles.  Paying attention to the placement 
of the various structures, fences, etc., he looks for ways to get closer to 
the main building.  He also notes the location of various animals, 
*particularly* the dogs.

Watching the various kin going about their chores, Ingvar recognises 
several and his anger begins to swell once again.  One in particular 
tempts him to charge in and slay, but he manages to throttle that notion.  
Obviously, the number of people around are going to make it difficult to 
attack any of them without getting swarmed under.  He looks to see if 
any of them appear to be working near the edge of the clearing, where 
he might be able to lure them into the shadow of the woods.  Otherwise, 
he will have to wait until dark to do anything.

If no other possibilities present themselves, Ingvar moves over toward 
where the path to town runs through the woods to watch and wait, as 
before.

<><><><><>

[GM]

No good opportunities to waylay members of Ole's household present 
themselves during the morning. At just before noon, Bengt and Hakon, 
Ole's brother and cousin, who helped kill you both times before, take out 
a pair of horses, and mount them, calling out to to the remaining kin 
(which consists of Ole's insolent teenage son, an old man you guess to 
be an elderly uncle or cousin, three thralls, and an assortment of wives 
and brats that you haven't sorted out completely yet) that they are riding 
into town. Accompanied by a pair of hounds (which also look terribly 
familiar) they head for the trail that will eventually lead past the spot 
where you killed Ole last night.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

The appearance of Bengt and Hakon lights a fire of rage in Ingvar's 
breast.  He watches, eyes burning, as they mount up and announce their 
intentions.  "Thor's stones!" he mutters as they gather up a couple of 
hounds.  The dogs are a real danger, no mistaking *that*!

As the goat-spawn head down the path, Ingvar follows slowly along 
through the woods.  He doesn't need to keep up; he knows where 
they're going.

As he slips through the woods, he thinks about the hounds.  It's possible 
that *they* might find Ole's body, even well off the path as it is.  That 
would draw the others in, but he would still have to separate them in 
some manner to have any chance.  He will stay well back, and swing 
wide around where he left Ole's body.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Eventually you hear the dogs barking excitedly and whining, far ahead. 
As you near the ambush site outside of town, you hear Bengt and 
Hakon's horses crashing through the saplings off in the direction of Ole's 
body. You'd guess that the dogs have indeed found Ole.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Hearing the commotion up ahead, Ingvar swings wide around the site of 
Ole's looting.  He smiles grimly at the thought.

Remaining several dozen yards deeper into the woods, Ingvar moves 
until a line from the noise through him runs on deeper into the forest and 
not anywhere back toward the farm.  Once in what he feels is a good 
spot, Ingvar picks up a rock and heaves it in the direction of the noise.  
He doesn't intend for it to reach the body, but to get close enough to get 
the attention of the dogs.  He then whistles once briefly, much as he had 
done with his own dog, so many months ago.

Heh heh heh.  Ingvar chuckles to himself.  Then, he listens carefully for 
the sound of the hounds approaching.  As he does so, he moves slowly 
deeper yet into the forest.  Either the dogs will take the bait or they 
won't.  If they do, he needs to be as far back in the woods as possible to 
separate them from their dung-eating masters.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your rock crashing into the underbrush causes the barking to stop 
momentarily. Your whistle provokes renewed baying from the hounds. 
You hear either Bengt or Hakon swearing, and possibly trying to call the 
dogs back, as you recede into the woods, and hear the dogs barking 
and plunging through the trees in your direction.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

There!  He hears it; the hounds are coming.  Ingvar continues to move 
away, looking frequently over his shoulder.  Gauging their distance by 
the sounds the dogs make crashing through the underbrush, Ingvar 
stops while they are still a little ways back.  Turning towards the 
approaching canines, he takes a step sideways so that the large tree to 
his right is a couple steps behind him.  Ingvar plants his feet firmly and 
prepares to deal death as best he can.  Shield up, he makes sure he has 
a firm grip on the axe.  Then, he waits...

<><><><><>

[GM]

In less than a minute, the hounds have reached you.

However, to your dismay, they seem disinclined to simply come lunging 
at you. Instead, they growl and snarl as they circle you just out of 
reach....obviously *thinking* about attacking you, but they just might wait 
until their masters arrive.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Damn!  These beasts showed no such reticence when they first pulled 
me from my horse so long ago.  Could the Hel-cursed creatures actually 
realize the difference of my prepared weapon..?

Can't wait here for Bengt and Hakon to arrive - Thor blast their shriveled 
souls!  With that thought, Ingvar begins to advance on the hound most 
towards his weapon-hand side, while keeping his shield toward the 
other.  He looks for an opportunity to strike at the Hel-beast, yet keeps 
an eye over his shoulder to track it's partner.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your aggressive move proves to be more provocation than the dogs can 
stand; they snarl and one leaps, while the other circles behind you.

The leaping cur flies headfirst into your shield, leaving it stunned as you 
bring your axe down on it, almost cutting it in half with one blow.

The other one closes its teeth on your calf and you feel a hot streak of 
pain as the beast tears at your flesh even through your leather 
breeches.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Ingvar is stunned that he managed to take out the first dog so fast.  But 
his exhultation quickly turns to shock as pain burns up his leg.  His axe 
still forward in the body of the first mutt, Ingvar swings his shield hard, 
down and behind his legs.  If he makes contact, he'll follow with the axe.  
If not, he'll turn and advance on the hound.  He hates killing good 
animals, but *these* are as much enemies as their masters.

<><><><><>

[GM]

You make no contact with the dog with your downward swing. As you 
turn, it growls and snaps again, but this time you manage to jerk your leg 
out of the way.

Your axe descends on the beast, and like the first one, this hound 
collapses with one blow mid-shoulders. It lies on the ground, bleeding 
and making small whimpering sounds. Not far off now, you can hear the 
horses of your two enemies approaching.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

He feels the vibration of the axe as it grinds into the hound's shoulder 
blade.  Ingvar wonders if this is how his own faithful dog died at the 
hands of his enemies.

Ingvar's reverie is interupted by the sound of their approach.  Damn!  He 
hadn't expected them to ride in amongst all these trees.  They will be on 
him far sooner than he had anticipated.

Glancing about, he selects the nearest medium-sized tree with good 
foliage and heads for it.  Tucking his axe in his belt and shoving his 
shield up his forearm, he begins to climb.  He climbs until he is up into 
the foliage and above rider's head level.  Sliding his shield back into 
place on his arm and drawing his axe, he prepares to wait...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Bengt and Hakon aren't moving very quickly on horseback, through 
these woods. However, you don't have a lot of experience in climbing 
trees, particularly with a shield strapped to your arm, and even less in 
trying to do so stealthily.

By the time your two enemies come into view, you're at approximately 
the same level as them on the backs of their horses. And quite visible.

Bengt yells when he sees you, and whistles a command to the hounds, 
which he obviously can't see yet. Both of them spur their mounts 
forward. So far, they aren't close enough to recognize you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Hearing the old man's shout, Ingvar glances back over his shoulder.  
"S***!" he curses in frustration, seeing that they have caught him 
unprepared.

Immediately, he lets go of the tree and drops to the ground.  With a 
quick look about, Ingvar begins to scramble toward the thickest spot of 
foliage that he can spot nearby.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The two mounted kin cry out "There's the treacherous trollspawn!" and 
give chase....clumsily, through the thickening woods.

As you disappear into a copse, you see Bengt sliding off the back of his 
horse and retrieving his bow. He begins stalking towards you with an 
arrow nocked. Hakon also dismounts, and readies an axe very similar to 
yours.

"WE'RE COMING TO GET YOU, VILLAIN!" Hakon yells. Obviously, they 
still haven't identified you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Ducking between a couple of saplings, Ingvar considers his situation.  
Flight doesn't seem possible; they would ride him down on their horses.  
He must turn and fight.  This thought appeals to him, though it may well 
be his last act.  Having had the satisfaction of killing Ole, he will gladly 
die, especially if he can take one of these treacherous curs with him.

His mind made up, Ingvar prepares for the fight of his life.  His goal is to 
engage Hakon with axe and shield while avoiding Bengt's opportunity 
fire.  Perhaps he can maneuver to keep Hakon between them...

*Thor, watch over me!*  "Come and *get* me, you murderous b******s!" 
he hisses softly, not wanting to give away his exact position.  He may yet 
manage some measure of surprise as he circles slowly around...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Animals walk quietly through the woods so naturally that one could 
believe it's easy to do, until you try to do it yourself. Every leaf and twig 
underfoot loudly announces your general location, with branches 
snagging on your shield for good measure. No, you won't be surprising 
anyone.

But Hakon accomplishes half your objective for you, by moving his horse 
towards you, blocking Bengt as you emerge from between two trees. 
Hakon's face is twisted in fury, and his sword is clenched firmly in his 
hand....but fury turns to shock, recognition....and fear, when he sees 
you.

"YOU!!!" he cries out, rocking back on his saddle in stunned disbelief.

<><><><><>

[Did Hakon remount his horse?]

Ingvar:

"Bloody Hel!" the stocky Scandinavian swore as yet another twig 
crackled underfoot, making his location that much more obvious.  He 
certainly wasn't lacked the stealthiness of the forest creatures.  His dirty-
blond hair swung in his face, and even that annoyed him.

His next step carries him into Bengt's view, but that is quickly cut off by 
Hakon interposing himself.  This man, who twice now has attempted to 
kill Ingvar, displays a fury nearly to match Ingvar's own.  Ingvar nearly 
misses the change of expression on Hakon's face as he replies with his 
own yell, "*Yes*!  And I've come for *you*!"  Ingvar acts even as he 
hollers, driving forward toward this one who has caused him so much 
pain and grief, striving to plant his axe in the other's chest.

<><><><><>

[GM]

[Oops. Uh, no. He was leading his horse....ignore the reference to 
"leaning back in the saddle."]


Hakon's face has turned pale. "You're dead!" he stammers, as you 
charge him.

You swing with your axe. He doesn't even move until the last moment, 
and then suddenly sidesteps. Your axe swishing through empty air when 
you expected it to impact against the stunned man surprises you, and 
you lose your grip on it. It flies forward and almost hits the poor horse.

You'd feel foolish- and dead- except that Hakon is apparently too 
stunned even to take advantage of your loss of your weapon. He raises 
his sword and points it at you, as if to fend you off, but he does not move 
to attack.

"Hakon!" Bengt yells. "What are you doing?" Hakon's cousin is circling 
around to get a line of sight on you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Staring in surprise as his axe goes spinning away from the target who is 
no longer there, "Loki be damned!" explodes from Ingvar's lips.  Only 
such a mischievous god could have caused such a thing to happen!

Just then, his attention is caught by Hakon waving his sword in his 
direction.  The look of shock on the man's face seems to indicate that he 
truly *believes* what he just said about Ingvar being dead, but surely 
*he* of all people should *know* that they hadn't really killed him!

Movement off to the side indicates that Bengt will soon be ready to 
shoot.  Panic steals into Ingvar's breast.  Spinning, Ingvar puts all of his 
skill and desperation into a single sweeping attack with the shield at the 
arm holding the sword before him.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your shield cracks into Hakon's arm, knocking it aside. He yowls, but 
hangs onto the sword. He still can't seem to regain his wits enough to 
counter-attack, though.

You hear a humming sound, then a sharp pain stabs you in the shoulder 
blade.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

It feels *good* to strike Hakon, and Ingvar begins to smile again.

"ARRGGGH!!!"  Agony blossoms in back, just below the right shoulder.  
Ingvar stumbles for a moment as the ground seems to spin around him.  
Didn't realize that Bengt would be firing so soon...

It won't be long before the b****** fires again.  Ingvar makes a snap 
decision; his best protection is Hakon's body.  Ingvar ducks behind the 
erstwhile swordsman, putting Hakon's body between his own and Bengt, 
and grabs his clothes with both hands.  Then he pushes Hakon forward, 
still holding on from behind.  Hopefully, with Ingvar's help, Hakon will 
manage to keep his feet.  Driving forward, Ingvar pounds towards Bengt, 
pushing Hakon along in front of him.  Thor willing, he will manage to 
drive Hakon right into his treacherous uncle.

<><><><><>

[GM]

As you spin around, the arrow falls to the ground, only its tip stained 
red.....it seems you were lucky, it barely penetrated your thick vest.

Hakon seems half-witless with fear, but that doesn't mean he's willing to 
be passively grabbed and shoved about. In fact, he becomes almost 
frantic as you reach for him, shrieking in a womanish voice: "GET AWAY 
FROM ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

He struggles when you grapple him, and the two of you stagger about, 
kicking up leaves. At least Bengt is unlikely to fire again when he's as 
likely to hit his nephew as you....you hope.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Ingvar breathes a sigh of relief at this demonstration of his luck with the 
first arrow.  Perhaps Tyr has decided to watch over his quest for justice.  
However, he knows that Bengt will shoot again, given a chance, and that 
he must take this as a warning.


Hakon's behavior would be almost comical if the situation weren't so 
grave.  At least, it makes Ingvar's situation somewhat less dire in that 
the threat to his life is somewhat less than it might otherwise be.

Obviously, his intended ploy is not going to work.  Thus, Ingvar releases 
his grasp on the hysterical man, stepping back and to the side to put 
Hakon as fully between him and Bengt as possible.  Then, drawing the 
knife he recently acquired from their kin, he begins to slash at Hakon.  
Ingvar keeps his shield up and an eye on Bengt, so as to minimize the 
chances of getting impaled from that quarter.

<><><><><>

[GM]

	Ingvar
	 Hakon


	Horse			Bengt
	  Axe



Hakon screams again as you slash him across the chest, and staggers 
back, trying to fend you off, as you step forward and slice into his 
shoulder, neither time scoring a very serious blow, though there's a lot of 
blood.

Bengt seems to realize that his nephew isn't defending himself very 
effectively, and that Hakon will probably be dead before he gets another 
clear shot at you. He drops his bow and draws his own sax, much larger 
than yours, and comes running at you. "HAKON! THOR'S BONES, YOU 
IDIOT, YOU'VE GOT A #@&*@! SWORD, *USE* IT!"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Even though he realizes that he hasn't finished Hakon yet, still, the 
blood flowing from multiple wounds is one of the most beautiful sights 
Ingvar has ever seen.  He's beginning to enjoy this, despite the danger.

Bengt's yell causes him to glance over Hakon's shoulder once again.  
Seeing that the older man has dropped his bow and is approaching 
quickly, Ingvar decides on one last try to finish Hakon.  Stepping in close 
to the hysterical 'woman', Ingvar stabs at Hakon's midsection.  Almost 
immediately, he steps back out and begins to angle toward the horse 
(and his axe, not coincidently).  As he moves, he gauges Bengt's 
approach and prepares to receive his attack.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your thrust at Hakon is clumsy, and fails to connect. He keeps backing 
away from you, bleeding from his wounds.

Bengt slows as he approaches you. His face registers shock as he 
recognizes you too, but he doesn't seem as stricken as his nephew.

"Damn you!" He snarls. "We killed you twice, you really ARE trollspawn! 
What does it take to finish you off?"

He moves towards you, and will obviously engage you before you can 
reach your axe. "This time, we'll chop you into little pieces and throw you 
into the lake!"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Seeing his stab at Hakon go wide of the mark, Ingvar growls in 
frustration.  Unfortunately, he doesn't have the time to stay and finish the 
lucky cur off properly.

The look on Bengt's face puzzles Ingvar nearly as much as his words.  
Shaking himself so as not to get distracted by questions he can't answer 
right now, Ingvar focusses on the blade-wielding goat coming toward 
him.  "What-?  Doesn't matter.  As you've seen, you don't *have* what it 
takes to finish me off.  Might as well give up now..."  By the end, his 
speach is little more than a snarl.

Ingvar allows Bengt to come to him to engage.  He will fight rather 
defensively, blocking/parrying and then riposting as he slowly continues 
to circle/back around the horse toward his axe.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Bengt slashes at you, but you put your shield in the way. He comes at 
you again, and you parry his sax with your smaller one, then try to slip 
inside his guard and stab him; you find the shorter reach of your weapon 
puts you at a disadvantage in counterattacking, however.

Then he slashes at your face, coming short because of your shield. You 
swing back, slicing his sword-arm lengthwise and opening it up. He cries 
out and staggers back. While he tries to transfer his sax to his left hand, 
you step forward and slash at him again, this time tearing through his 
heavy fur coat and drawing blood. He tries to hit you in the face, but you 
avoid his off-handed swing, and plunge your knife into his chest.

He gasps, and tries pushing you away. He's too weakened by all the 
wounds he's suffered, and can't prevent you from stabbing him again. 
He falls down at your feet....and then you hear Hakon screaming. The 
younger kinsman seems to have been snapped out of his stupor by 
seeing his uncle collapsing on the ground, and now comes charging at 
you with his sword, which is a larger and better weapon than the one 
Bengt was wielding against you, and you're still too far away to grab 
your axe before Hakon reaches you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Grunting and sweating as he fights, Ingvar concentrates on his rather 
poor combat skills.  Finally, Bengt slumps to the ground at his feet, and 
Ingvar is impressed that he has managed to do so well in these fights.  
Yet somehow, as he pulls his knife from Bengt's body for what may be 
the last time, the triumph and joy at the fulfillment of his revenge seems 
somehow less than what he had expected...

Before Ingvar can stop to think about this, Hakon screams and comes 
charging at him.  Spinning to look, the sword in Hakon's hand looms 
large in his vision.  Knowing that he won't be able to get to his axe 
before Hakon is on him, Ingvar tries to guage this attacker's approach.  If 
there seems to be time, Ingvar drops the knife in his hand and snatches 
up the one Bengt was wielding.  Otherwise, Ingvar will move as far in the 
direction of his axe as possible before having to turn and face this 
attacker.

Either way, Ingvar fights as before, still impressed with his relative 
success, while retreating towards his beloved axe...

<><><><><>

[GM]

You snatch up Bengt's sax as Hakon rushes you, and then have cause 
to regret congratulating yourself prematurely, as his sword slashes 
beneath your shield, tearing deeply into your leg. You collapse to the 
ground, while Hakon, raising his sword overhead and screaming wildly, 
goes toppling over you, his momentum carrying him into you and 
bringing him down with you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

"AAAUUUGGGHHH!!!" Ingvar bellows as the sword bites into his leg.  
Searing pain causes his leg to buckle under him and he plummets to the 
ground.  Almost immediately, the stumbling Hakon crashes into him on 
the ground.  Ingvar grunts from the impact, and struggles to avoid 
passing out from shock and pain.  Though he doesn't know what it's 
called, adrenaline seems to be the only thing keeping him going.

Gritting his teeth, Ingvar attempts to roll over onto Hakon.  Self-defense 
forgotten, Ingvar's only thought is to plant his stolen sax deep into the 
other's midsection.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The heavy sax is too cumbersome for you to wield effectively in close 
quarters, and as you and Hakon roll around on the ground, you're 
unable to get a thrust in. Hakon immediately realized his sword would be 
even more useless, and let go of it. Instead, he tries to kick and punch 
you. You're able to fend him off for the moment, helped somewhat by 
your shield, but the shield is more of a hindrance than anything else, 
with your opponent grappling you so you can't move it out of YOUR way 
when you're trying to strike back. Hakon just keeps screaming in 
incoherent rage and fear as he flails at you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Frustration begins to set in as Ingvar realizes that this fight isn't going to 
end as quickly as he had hoped.  The shield is impeding his ability to 
attack, and he had switched from a weapon that *would* have been very 
useful, to one that was of no use at all.  What *else* could go wrong...

And then it hits him - just what *could* go wrong.  He sneaks a quick 
peek over at Bengt, just to make sure *that* one wasn't getting up...

Continuing to tussle with Hakon, Ingvar drops the over-large sax as 
useless, and begins trying to ditch the shield.  As opportunities present 
themselves, he will punch or kick at Hakon, while still glancing 
occasionally in Bengt's direction - just for good measure.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Hakon lands a weak punch to your face, and drives his elbow into your 
stomach, while you are trying to divest yourself of your shield. Taking 
your eyes off of him to look for Bengt proves to be a mistake, as he 
clocks you on the side of the head while you're confirming that his uncle 
still lies in a bloody heap.

You get a kick to his leg, and finally toss your shield away, but while you 
were doing this, Hakon rolled off of you, and has grabbed his sword 
again.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

The elbow to his gut forces a gasp out through Ingvar's clenched teeth.  
The follow-up blow to the side of his head as he struggles with his shield 
pushes his frustration closer and closer to total rage.

Yet another nasty surprise: Ingvar feels more than sees Hakon climbing 
off of him just as he finally succeeds in shedding his shield.  Seeing 
Hakon going for his sword, Ingvar snatches the shield up immediately 
and slides it back into place on his arm.

Ingvar's next move is to reach for the large sax that he dropped just 
moments ago, while watching for Hakon's inevitable attack.  If he 
succeeds, he will attempt to get to his feet, using his uninjured leg to 
provide the lift.

He knows that his weapon is over-matched, but Ingvar has little choice 
but to fight on.  His best hope still seems to be to maneuver his way over 
to his axe while continuing to defend himself from Hakon to the best of 
his ability.

<><><><><>

[GM]

By the time you've grabbed your shield, with time only to take hold of the 
straps, but not resecure it over your arm, Hakon has his sword, and 
brings it down in an arc. You deflect it with your shield, and manage to 
stay behind your shield for his second attack, while you're fumbling for 
your sax with the other hand.

Hakon stands up, much faster than you. His sword-point digs into your 
shoulder, drawing blood, but the war-god is watching over you again, as 
he merely nicks you, though it's a painful nick. Your unsuccessful 
attempt to block that attack tips you off-balance and you collapse onto 
your side again. There's no way you'll be able to stand right now; your 
injured leg is gushing blood, and putting weight on it is out of the 
question. You can barely move it. The only way you can get to your axe 
is by rolling, and Hakon is likely to make that extremely difficult. He's 
already raising his sword for another chop at your head.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

His apparent impotence does nothing for Ingvar's mood.  The pain in his 
leg is searing, and his shoulder isn't much better.  The Fates appear to 
have ended his thread in the fabric of the world.

One last, desperate gamble.  Dropping the shield, Ingvar rolls inside 
Hakon's sword attack and attempts to grab him.  If he succeeds, he will 
attempt to pull Hakon down with him.

<><><><><>

[GM]

You wrap your arms around Hakon's legs, and pull him off his feet as he 
tries to hack you, swinging too wide because of his imbalance.

With you clinging so tightly to him, he tries awkwardly to wield his sword 
by holding it out at arms' length and swinging it with his wrist...not very 
effectively, fortunately. (And even more fortunate for you that his sword 
has no thrusting point.)

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Astonished is the only word to describe how Ingvar feels as he succeeds 
in pulling Hakon down.  Moments ago, he was convinced that Tyr and 
Thor had abondoned him and his quest for vengeance.  Maybe they just 
didn't want it to be too easy for him.  Are the gods telling him that 
vengeance must be *earned*..?

Ingvar scrambles up along Hakon's body to sit on his stomach, trying to 
get further inside the sword's reach.  Letting all of his anger and 
frustration flow into his fists, Ingvar begins to pummel Hakon with a flurry 
of blows.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Hakon abandons trying to hack you with his sword, and exchanges 
punches and kicks with you.

You are called "stout" by your friends and family for a reason. Despite 
your wounds, you're still more than a match for Hakon in unarmed 
combat. He has neither your size nor your strength, and though he clips 
you once more in the jaw, and almost knocks the wind out of you with a 
knee to the stomach, it only takes a few blows from your gloved fists to 
daze him, and a couple more to finish him off.

With a groan, you roll off the unconscious man, and your senses 
become more attuned to the pain in your leg and your shoulder, 
especially your leg, from which blood is still flowing freely. It looks very 
bad; you're acutely aware that most men with wounds like this bleed to 
death, and those that don't, rarely recover from the cold that will set into 
them. With the care of a wisewoman, your rugged constitution would 
give you a good chance of survival, but out here in the middle of the 
woods, crippled, Bengt and Hakon may have killed you again despite 
your winning the fight.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Ingvar's powerful muscles drive his fists into Hakon again and again, 
each time causing shudders in the smaller man's frame.  Hakon fights 
back as best he can, but the outcome is never seriously in doubt.  It 
takes a few moments, but eventually Ingvar realizes that Hakon is no 
longer struggling beneath him.

He pauses for a moment, then looks around.  Spotting the sword that 
Hakon had nearly split him like a log with, Ingvar takes it up in his hand.  
Laying one edge of it against Hakon's neck, he grabs the other edge in 
his left hand.  Pushing down, he jerks the length of the sword along the 
smaller man's throat, tearing it open and sealing Hakon's doom.

His deadly work done, Ingvar finally allows his fatigue to overtake him 
and he collapses to the ground.  He lies there breathing heavily as his 
adrenaline wears off, allowing the pain of his various wounds to assert 
itself.  After a few moments, he can no longer ignore it.  Looking down at 
his shoulder, he dismisses the wound as not life-threatening.  His leg is 
obviously a different matter.

After a few more moments of rest, Ingvar fights off the pain and 
exhaustion enough to sit up and take a good look at the wound.  He 
can't help but wonder if this is the wound which will finally finish him.  
Having needed her help many times over the years due to numerous 
wood-cutting accidents, Ingvar remembers something of her methods.  
Reaching over, he tears Hakon's shirt from his body.  He winds the 
fabric round the leg several times, and ties it closed with the sleeves.  It 
makes a crude bandage by any estimation, but it covers the entire 
wound and is fairly tight, so it just *might* slow the bleeding.

Having done all that he can, Ingvar slumps back to rest for a while 
longer and to see if he survives the wound...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Bengt's life continues bleeding into the ground around him, while Hakon 
gurgles and expires immediately after you slit his throat.

Your clumsy attempt at a bandage is probably more decorative than 
useful. The pain goes away fairly quickly, which at first you take as an 
ominous sign.

However, after waiting for almost an hour, your leg feels...just fine. You 
flex it without difficulty, and when you remove your bandage...you find 
the wound is gone! The blood is still there, soaking your breeches from 
thigh to ankle, but your flesh is completely whole.

You discover that your shoulder wound has similarly disappeared, and 
even your face, where Hakon punched you several times, is no longer 
sore, and you don't feel any bumps or abrasions.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Lying on the ground waiting to die, Ingvar can't help but notice the pain 
in his leg fading nearly as quick as his fatigue.  _It's going numb...  Oh 
damn!  It won't be long now...  At least I took Ole and <looking at the 
bodies around him> these swine with me.  Angmar would have been 
proud of me - I wish he could see this.  My only regret is in not saving 
my family._  Visions of Helgi, Sigtrygg, and little Hammar and Istrid swirl 
through his mind as he lies back an waits for the end...

Somehow, that end never comes.  Eventually, Ingvar sits up, noticing 
immediately that, not only is there no pain, but he can move with as 
much ease as ever he could.  Looking at the wound in his shoulder 
through the hole in his jerkin, he is astonished to see *no* sign of injury.  
Even digging around and moving the covering this way and that with his 
fingers uncovers no evidence that he was ever injured!  _*This* is 
*impossible*!  It can't *be*!_

His gaze shifts to his leg.  There are no obvious signs of decay or 
atrophe.  Slowly, with shaking hands, Ingvar unties and unwinds the 
impromptu bandage.  The sight that greets his eyes defies everything 
that he has ever believed about how the world works.  Could this be the 
work of one of the gods?  Could they be playing a trick on him?  Loki is 
certainly capable of this?  But why?

Ingvar sits and ponders for a while, but no answers come to him.  
Eventually, he gives up on understanding.  With night coming, he begins 
to collect everything of value.  Starting with Hakon, he searches both 
bodies for anything worth keeping.  He collects all of the weapons lying 
around the battlefield.  Then comes the hard part; he approaches 
Hakon's horse and attempts to befriend it.  Then he goes in search of 
Bengt's horse as well.  If either or both of the horses is amenable to his 
company, he loads the gathered loot aboard and heads back to the 
clearing where he spent the night.  Otherwise, he will have to carry what 
he can himself.  Either way, he eventually heads back for some food and 
sleep.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The horses' nerves seem shot by the recent fighting; while they don't run 
from you, so you are able to collect them and tether them to a tree, they 
definitely don't seem too amenable to being ridden.

Neither Bengt nor Hakon were carrying much in the way of food...just 
some bad wine and a cold lump of leftover cheese.

A nap seems about right, though. You have no difficulty getting to sleep. 
However, you don't sleep long. Early afternoon, you wake up, to the 
buzzing of flies attracted to the blood that covers you.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Despite his surprising lack of pain, Ingvar feels weary from his battle.  A 
short nap proves necessary before traveling through the woods.  He 
finishes binding the various weapons (except his Axe, Sax, and shield) 
to the horses' saddles before lying down.


Waking a short while later, he feels substantially better.  However, the 
flies buzzing about him and getting in his face quickly start to annoy him.  
Swatting at any that get to close and cursing under his breath, Ingvar 
gets to his feet.  Since both Bengt and Hakon are smaller than he is, 
their clothes aren't likely to fit him well enough for him to exchange 
garments.

With nothing more to do here, Ingvar decides it's time to move on.  
Collecting the reins of the two horses, he turns and leads them back 
towards his 'camp' in the clearing.

If he arrives without incident, he intends to check on the condition of the 
horse, sword and supplies he left there.  After a small lunch, he will see 
if any of the horses seem willing to be ridden yet.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The horse you took earlier, from Ole, is the calmest, and with some 
urging, will allow you to mount. While still not the most reliable mount, 
you figure he'll carry you where you want to go...you wouldn't want to 
test your tenuous control over the beast in combat, though.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Vengeance has mostly been satisfied, but there is still the matter of his 
family.  However, even Ingvar realizes that he needs to be better 
prepared to finish this.  Besides, he has accumulated quite a bit of stuff, 
and he needs to get rid of it.

Unfortunately, there aren't any good trading towns closer than 
Gullspang.  Thus, he collects all his accumulated things and attachs it to 
the backs of the two other horses.  A quick change into his one set of 
spare clothes, and Ingvar mounts up on Ole's horse and heads south.  
Hopefully, by being mounted, he can make better time than he did 
walking, and be back to rescue his family before too much longer.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your return to Gullspång is much more auspicious than your last trip. 
You have to pass through the village that hosted you before, and take 
Magnus's boat across. They are rather surprised to see that their friend 
"Angmar" is back so soon, and now bringing three horses and an 
assortment of weapons and armor.

You're no merchant, so you aren't able to get the best price possible for 
your horses, but even if you decide to keep one, the other two will easily 
bring you enough money to buy that chainmail shirt that seemed so 
unattainable a few weeks ago, and leave plenty to spare. You definitely 
need a new shield, and as the armorer cheerfully tells you, it doesn't 
make much sense to cover your chest and arms but leave your head 
bare. He shows you a selection of metal helmets, ranging from a simple 
cap to more complete helms, some of which cost nearly as much as the 
chainmail shirt.

"You get what you pay for," the armorer points out, after eying your bag 
of silver. He taps the thick nasal bar, metal eye-coverings, cheek-guards 
and chain neck-guard hanging from the rim of his most expensive piece. 
"Those pots, any peasant can be found wearing one of those, but this is 
a real *warrior's* helmet!" And you imagine, there are probably few real 
warriors that buy expensive helmets this far from the coast. You have to 
admit, you'd look quite fearsome in it, though. And you'd *still* have 
enough silver to buy a new shield, a better axe, a good-quality knife, and 
whatever other provisions you need. Fact is, you're beginning to see the 
appeal of banditry...by ambushing three men, you have more money in 
ill-gotten goods (not that you see it this way! but the Thing might feel 
differently...) than you've earned in years.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

"Angmar" gladly stops briefly to chat with his new friends in the little 
village on the river.  He thanks them again for their kind assistance 
earlier, even though he knows that such has always been expected 
within their culture.  When the inevitable question arrises, he explains 
that he will be leaving the area soon to join the raiders [or whatever they 
would call the Viking reavers] as his village's contribution, and is here to 
outfit himself.

[It is my understanding from my reading that the various kings/jarl's 
manned their armies and warships through a variation of the draft.  
Basically, each village had a sort of quota; they were expected to 
provide one man, fully outfitted, every so-many years, depending on the 
village's size.
Also, "hospitality", such as that displayed by the village by the river, 
plays a large part in the various lays as an expectation of behavior.]

Once in Gullspang itself, Ingvar sets to bargaining.  He intends to keep 
Ole's horse and sword (the sword as a momento), and Bengt's bow and 
arrow.  He will sell Hakon's sword, both saxs, his old shield and axe, and 
the other two horses.  If possible, he will get his stained and damaged 
set of clothes cleaned and mended.  His intent is to end up with the 
chain shirt, good quality axe and shield, a good sax that isn't so large as 
to be unwieldy in hand-to-hand fighting, three full sets of clothes 
(including what he's wearing), a bedroll, about a week's worth of food, 
and enough silver for about a week's travel.  If he still has money at that 
point, he will buy the best helmet he can afford.

His mood is quite positive, so he engages in chit-chat with the various 
merchants, and drinks a few ales in the evening at whatever public 
house he spends the night in.  Hopefully, he will be ready to depart the 
next morning...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Even after selling your horses too cheaply, and the weapons for a 
fraction of what you bought them, and then buying all your desired items 
(including the good helmet), you still have quite a sizeable amount of 
silver left. No wonder sea-raids are so profitable! You even have some 
comely wenches flirting with you in the ale-houses, after seeing what a 
buying spree you've been on today...

Of course, this could attract other attention you don't want. Setting off 
the next morning will probably be a good idea.

You've already eliminated the greater part of Ole's clan's "fighting men", 
but there are a few kin left, and while you killed the two best hounds, 
there are a few of those dogs left on his farm as well. Whatever plan you 
devise, you'll have to strike quickly, because sooner or later, the 
disappearance of Ole, Hakon and Bengt will spur a search....

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

After a long afternoon in the market section of Gullspång, Ingvar marvels 
over his newfound wealth.  He can honestly say that he has never in his 
life accumulated so much at one time.  The attentions of the wenches in 
the bar is quite pleasant, and he even flirts back in his rough way.  
Nevertheless, he spends the night alone, so intent on his family is he.  
Besides, if the publican is unable to lock up his things in a secure area, 
then *they* will be sharing his bed!  He indeed sleeps with the armor and 
helmet on the bed against the wall, and the money pouch under the 
blankets near his feet.  The rest of his things will be under the bed, with 
his axe near at hand.

If the night goes well, Ingvar departs the following morning.  He leaves 
his well wishes with the people of the village as he passes through, 
knowing that he doesn't intend to pass this way again.

As he travels north, he begins to make plans.  Just in case his previous 
camp has been found, he intends to find a new place in the woods to set 
up camp.  An evenings rest should lead to a middle-of-the-night raid on 
the farm.  If there is insufficient moonlight, then he will have to put it off 
until daybreak.

Things get more complicated afterwards.  No matter how justified he 
feels in his actions, Ingvar realizes that the Thing is likely to think 
otherwise.  Thus, he can't stay in the area.  He had, over the years, 
heard tell of a trading city established in Novgorod, in the land of the 
Rus.  Perhaps he can use his remaining funds to get his family passage 
across the sea to this new land.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your trip back is uneventful (aside from Olspak and his friends in the 
fishing village ooh'ing admiringly at your fearsome visage, now that 
you're armored like a true warrior.)

The moon is half-full....not enough to provide as much light as you'd like, 
but just enough to see where you're going, and at least you'll have the 
advantage of being one man, while they, equally hindered by the 
darkness, will be running into each other. You hope.

Dogs bark as you approach the farm of Ole's clan. None seem to be 
coming directly at you, though, as you stalk silently (well, maybe not so 
silently, but as stealthily as you can manage in chainmail) towards their 
large rectangular dwelling, with your axe in one hand and your shield in 
the other. So far, it's still dark within.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

The finely-accoutered warrior-wannabe stalks quickly to the nearest 
point of the rectangular building.  Then, he follows along the wall toward 
where the front door lies.  His nerves jangle in his ears.  The light could 
certainly have been better.  Ingvar wonders whether he actually 
managed to catch them sleeping, or if he's walking into some cunningly-
laid trap.  He certainly wishes he had thought of some clever way to 
silence the dogs.  He watches for attack from any direction as he slides 
closer to the door...

<><><><><>

[GM]

There's movement ahead, and you see someone open the door, and 
step outside. You can't make out who it is, particularly as he's still half-
concealed by the open door, but he doesn't seem to be armored. He is 
holding a long implement of some sort in his hand, possibly a sword, but 
has not turned towards you yet.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Seeing someone emerge from within the farmhouse, Ingvar smiles an 
ugly little smile.  _Ahh... First victim._  

Since the door is between him and the man who appears to be armed, 
Ingvar steps forward and kicks the door closed.  Stepping quickly to the 
side away from the wall, he confronts the man with his axe held high.  
He hesitates for a moment to see who it is, while growling, "So, you are 
to be the *next* to die, eh?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

The man falls over as you slam the door into him. Whatever he's holding 
falls to the ground next to him with a thud that sounds more like wood 
than metal.

You see a youngish face illuminated in the moonlight; Hakon's teenage 
son, probably. He gapes up at you and says "Huh?" Then stammers 
"Who are you?"

"Dink?" a woman's voice calls, sounding frightened. "Dink, what're you 
doing boy?"

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Looking down, Ingvar feels little more than disgust at the child gazing 
back at him.  Damn fool.  "Your death, if you get in my way," he snarls, 
and kicks the boy in the midsection, hard.

A feminine voice from inside, must be the Dink's mother, Gunnhild.  
Yanking the door open, Ingvar charges inside, looking for men to cut 
down and his family to save.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Dink groans and curls into a ball when you kick him.

Inside, a couple other people are moving besides Gunnhild; the fire that 
keeps the long cabin warm is dim, casting more heat than light, and 
illuminating the figures of the people moving about in sinister red 
outlines. You can make out Gunnhild by her screeching- "Dink! #%@& 
Dink, what're you- AIEEE! WHO'S THAT?" but the other figures moving 
towards you could be anyone, and you can't see who's armed and who's 
not. If you start laying about indiscriminately, you might not just hit 
menfolk.

"HAKON! ARE YOU WAKING UP EVERYONE STAGGERING DRUNK 
AGAIN!?" bellows one of the figures near you.

"That's not Hakon!" someone else gasps. You hear a child squalling.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Entering the farmhouse, he stares about in the dim light.  Shadows move 
in the flickering light, some of them people.  Ingvar can place Gunnhild 
by her voice, but the others aren't so accomodating.  In a few minutes, 
his eyes should adjust to the dark, but he may not have that long if they 
start to attack.

Shifting his axe to his shield hand, Ingvar decides to punch anyone that 
gets too close.  He can't risk hurting any of his family in the dark.  
Whatever he's going to do, he needs to do it quick.  "I'm Ingvar, and I've 
come for my family!  I'll kill anyone who gets in my way!" he yells over 
the sounds of the shuffling inhabitants.

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Huh?"
"Who?"
"LOOK OUT!"
"$&@#& troll-s***!"
"Diiiiink!"

Someone lurches towards you and swings something large and heavy, 
which bounces off your shield. Your answering punch sends him reeling 
back into someone else.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Over the general din of the confusion, Ingvar tries to determine whether 
the object crashing off his shield sounds like steel, wood, stone, pottery, 
or whatever.  A momentary feeling of satisfaction as his fist smashes into 
a face is overwhelmed by a sense of vulnerability at standing here in the 
dark.  Switching his axe back to his free hand, Ingvar calls out again.  
"Next one who attacks me will taste the blade of my axe!  Now bring me 
Helgi, Sigtrygg, Istrid, and Hammar!  NOW!"

<><><><><>

[GM]

Everyone scurries around in confusion, and then there's a momentary 
pause, as you bellow into the dim chaos.

Someone shuffles back and forth, and someone else whimpers. Then a 
baffled, gruff, male voice says "They...they're gone!"

You can see one man, you believe Ole's younger brother, Gris Wolf-
Mane, edging towards you with something metallic in his hands.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

*Gone*?!?  What in Hel's name does he mean - gone?  Ingvar barks 
back at the voice which spoke a moment ago, "What do you mean - 
*gone*?  Explain yourself, old man!"  The voice kind of sounds like 
Halfdan, but he's not certain yet.

Then, Ingvar notices the treacherous trollspawn coming towards him.  
He waits and lets the youngster get a little closer, then steps to meet him 
with an axe to the chest.  "I warned you, whelp!"

<><><><><>

[GM]

"I...I mean they're not here!" the voice that might be Halfdan replies, 
almost whining.

Ole's younger brother is no whelp; Ole himself was a middle-aged man, 
his brother is about your age.

You swing your axe, and Gris raises what he's holding in both hands to 
block it. The shaft of your axe strikes the longer shaft of the huge battle-
axe Gris is holding. You can't imagine where Gris got such a huge 
weapon; it isn't as if these people are any more warriors than your clan. 
But Ole and Gris *are* the sort of blowhards that would go spend money 
on an impressive relic like that, just to show off.

Gris, apparently thinking he knows how to use the battle-axe, lets it 
swing downwards, gripping the end of the haft in both hands and 
bringing it around in a massive arc. Everyone else in the room screams 
and dives for the floor, and Gunnhild and Greta both screech at him. 
"GRIIIIISS! FOR FREYA'S SAKE, PUT THAT THING 
DOOOOOOWWWNNNN!"

It swishes past your head, and half-spins Gris around with its 
momentum. No question, if he connects, it will hurt. But he's more likely 
to take out his own family than you are, right now.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

That near miss from the huge battleaxe is worrisome.  Only the twin 
screeches of the two women deter Ingvar from planting his axe in Gris's 
half-turned back while he is off-balance.  Instead, Ingvar lashes out with 
the edge of his shield at his unarmored foe.

"Tell me, Halfdan, where did they go?!?  And when did they leave?!?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

You almost trip over someone or something when you swing your shield. 
If it weren't for the fact that Gris's axe takes such a ridiculous long time 
to swing, you'd now be seriously vulnerable to his next attack. As it is, 
he's only prevented from trying again by Halfdan, who lurches towards 
his kin and grabs the shaft while Gris is trying to sweep it back forward. 
The older man is nearly jerked off his feet- Gris is no weakling.

"Let go you old fool!" Gris hisses.

Ignoring him, Halfdan says "We sold them! Too many extra mouths to 
keep around here!"

The Firehair Clan's recent wealth suddenly becomes more 
understandable. Slaves- especially healthy young ones, like your wives 
and children- fetch a good price, though there are no slave markets in 
Gullspång. They'd have to have gone a long ways to sell them, unless 
someone from one of the major trading centers, or the coast, happened 
to be in the region, or perhaps a local jarl.

"Yah, except for S-" one of the women says, and Halfdan kicks her.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Nearly tripping over something seen indistinctly near the floor, Ingvar 
swears loudly.  He steps back, carefully, to where he had been 
previously as Halfdan and Gris tussle, and prepares for another attack.  
This time, if Gris attacks again, he *will* plant his axe in the fool.

As he regains his footing and balance, Halfdan's words sink in.  Ingvar's 
anger begins to rise, which is evident in his voice.  "You *sold* them!?!  
You motherless troll-spawn!!!  I should slay you all right *now*!  If you 
wish to live, tell me *where* you sold them, *when* they were sold, and 
to *whom*!  *Now*, Halfdan!  Or die where you stand..."

Then one of the women starts to say something, before being rudely 
silenced.  "What!?!  Sigtrygg?  What about her?!?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Who ARE you!?" Halfdan demands, and then answering his own 
question, blurts out, "You're dead!!"

Gris hesitates, with Halfdan still getting in his way, but then you're 
surprised by a wooden stool being smashed over your head from 
behind.

Fortunately, it doesn't do much more than annoy you, as your helmet 
proves to be worth the silver you paid for it.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

"I alread-" Ingvar doesn't get far in replying before Halfdan says the 
same ridiculous thing so many of his kin have.  Could this insanity be a 
plague of the entire clan?  "Dead?!  You'd like to *think*-"

Once again, Ingvar's words are cut short.  This time, by a craven but 
ineffectual attack from behind.  Thank Tyr for this fine helmet!  Ingvar 
emits a stream of curses as his rage begins to get the best of him.

Stepping back and to the side, Ingvar half-turns, and swings his axe at 
whoever hit him.  Remembering Gris and his giant axe, he spins far 
enough that he can see him and Halfdan and begins to back slowly to 
the wall.  Not really caring whether he hit the attacker, his mind returns 
to his previous concern.  "Halfdan!  You haven't answered my questions!  
I want answers, *now*!"  With that, he kicks at any one of the Firehair 
clan that happen to be within reach.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The idiot boy Dink is already diving back out the door, and your axe 
misses him by a wide margin. Gunnhild and Greta are screeching again, 
and Halfdan tries to make himself heard over the din.

"There was a trader, a wealthy merchant, taking a caravan east...we 
sold your kin to him," he says tremulously.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Gris yells, hefting his axe.

"Dink! Run get Snorri's kin! RUN!" yells Greta.

Snorri's family lives at least three miles away, so there is plenty of time 
to finish your "conversation", but you won't be able to linger...

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Snarling at Gris, Ingvar barks back, "I'LL LEAVE WHEN MY 
QUESTIONS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED, OR WHEN YOU'RE ALL 
*DEAD*!"

Noting Dink's departure, Ingvar returns to his previous line of inquiry.  
"What was the merchant's name?  Where was he headed - Birka?  How 
long ago was the sale?  And what about *Sigtrygg*?"

Ingvar makes certain that he has the wall at his back as he waits for 
more answers.  He isn't *about* to risk a *real* attack from behind...

<><><><><>

[GM]

"A few weeks....Birka? I don't know..." Halfdan stammers.

"Sigtrygg's dead!" Greta snarls, as Halfdan gulps. "She killed herself!"

Gris roars and comes at you with his axe. You just barely block it with 
your shield, and feel the blade sink deeply into the wood, as the shock 
travels up your arm.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

"Sig *killed* herself?!?  Because you sold the children, or for some other 
reason?"  Ingvar *needs* to know what happened to his beloved first 
wife.

Gris's powerful attack is hardly a surprise, but still Ingvar is lucky to 
block it.  His arm begins to ache from the shock of the blow.  Certainly 
this shield isn't going to be of much use for too much longer; a new one 
will have to be purchased if he gets out of this.  With little more than half 
a thought, Ingvar swings his own axe in response...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your axe-blow misses. Gris wrenches his axe out of your shield and 
pulls it back for another swing. Your axe also takes a moment to ready 
after each attack, but it's smaller than Gris's, and thus faster.

You plant it in his chest, chopping right through bone. Gris coughs, and 
staggers.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Swearing as his first swing goes wide of the mark, Ingvar sees that Gris 
is struggling to get that huge axe of his ready for another try.  His 
weapon being lighter and slightly more nimble, Ingvar is able to attack 
again.  A slight shiver runs up his arm as his axe carves into Gris's 
chest, grinding through bone, muscle and sinew.  Yanking his axe free, 
Ingvar watches as Gris staggers and blood pours out of the wound.

Pausing for a second, Ingvar tries to determine if Gris is likely to attack 
again.  If so, he goes for the kill.  However, if not, Ingvar grabs for the 
giant axe after shifting his own to his shield hand, and tries to wrench it 
out of Gris's hands.  A kick to the chest may be used to loosen the 
other's grip, if needed...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Gris doesn't do much more than stand and gurgle. You wrench his 
battle-axe from his hand, and he chokes, spitting blood, and collapses to 
the ground. The rest of the clan look at you in terror.

<><><><><>

Ingvar:

Not willing to step away from the security of the wall at his back, Ingvar 
swaps the axes from hand to hand, so that the axe he started with is 
back in his right hand.  "Well, Greta?" he calls out.  "Tell me about Sig 
so I can leave this sty!"

<><><><><>

[GM]

Greta trembles, and says "I told you...she killed herself!" She looks down 
at the ground. "I don't know why....did it right after we sold the rest of 'er 
kin....guess she couldn't stand....being here anymore."

Gunnhild, sobbing, is moving towards the fallen Gris, who lies on the 
floor and gurgles.

"I...I think he WAS going to Birka!" Halfdan says quickly. "Yes, he said 
that's where his next stop was, after Gullspång."

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Ingvar:

His voice noticeably softer than before, Ingvar replies to Greta.  "Yeah...  
Most likely.  She loved the little ones as if they were her own."  As did 
he, though he won't voice that thought...

Halfdan's words strike into his weakness.  _Gullspång.  I was *there* at 
that time..._  "Halfdan!  I think you lie.  I was *in* Gullspång for the past 
few months.  Also, that is *south* of here, and you said earlier that he 
was travelling *east*.  I'm leaving now, but if I find that you *are* lying, I'll 
come back and gut you like the goat you are!"  These last words hiss out 
of his mouth as he backs along the wall to the door.

Reaching the lintel, he will pivot around it and follow the outside wall to 
the corner, then head back to the woods.  Ingvar scouts around him as 
he moves, watching for signs of attack, even though he knows Dink 
couldn't have brought Snorri and kin so quickly...

<><><><><>

[GM]

You leave Ole's homestead without difficulty, and from there, have a 
clear path out of the area.

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Ingvar:

Returning to the place where he had left his horse and supplies, Ingvar 
feels tired and would like a rest, but knows that it isn't an option right 
now.  Snorri's kin will arrive soon, and he needs to be far away.

Gathering up the saddlebags, Ingvar prepares the horse for a day of 
journeying.  Mounting up, he begins to ride east toward Birka.  This is 
the only clue he has to finding his family, and he is determined to follow 
it as far as it will take him.

Unless it is quite uncomfortable to do so, Ingvar rides wearing the chain 
and helm.  His axe and shield are fairly easy to hand, and his sax is still 
at his waist.  Ole's sword and the axe he just obtained are packed and 
would require more effort to get to, as would the bow and arrow obtained 
from Bengt.  Most of his remaining silver hangs in a small bag from his 
belt.