Ingvar The Stout AXE-AGE, SWORD-AGE Part IV 978 A.D. Birka, Sweden .......... Ingvar and Astrid spend the next few weeks in Birka, alternately trying to surruptitiously search for word of Ingvar's kin, and go up into the interior for more combat training. Ingvar definitely has an axe-man's mentality, and physique; big, brawny, with a thick hide and a thicker skull. It wouldn't really be fair to call him stupid; he's certainly no less intelligent than the average backwoods peasant who's spent almost his entire life in the same fifty-mile radius, and done little more than cut down trees and make things with them. Astrid, with a more refined upbringing from the beginning, and now having seen more of the world than most people ever will, has trouble not treating Ingvar as a bright hound who isn't quite housebroken, but he does learn. And she can give him credit for being a little more accepting of women than most Norsemen (most men in general, actually)- not that he's quite gotten used to the idea of a woman-warrior yet, but his prejudices are clearly just a product of the almost universal worldview. There is no meanness in him, no instinctive desire to put uppity women in their place, which makes him much more manageable as a pupil. Strength is Ingvar's forte, so Astrid gives him some elementary training in the two-handed sword, and even buys a battle-axe for him that he likes a great deal. She emphasizes that these massive weapons are fine for laying into a mob and keeping the riff-raff at bay, but against another immortal, a good one, who's had a century or more of experience using a sword, if your first swing with a two-handed weapon doesn't take your opponent out, he or she will have plenty of time to carve you up before you get another shot. Thus he learns the use of the Viking sword, generally considered the most formidable hand-to-hand weapon of this era, for good reason. It strikes faster and with better balance than an axe, can parry and attack with equal facility, and with enough power behind it (and Ingvar certainly has enough power), the fine steel edge can decapitate someone almost as surely as a two-handed sword. To his chagrin, Astrid also teaches him a thing or two about brawling, and the embarrassment of being defeated by a woman in armed combat is nothing compared to the embarrassment of being laid out by a woman in a bare-knuckle brawl. But this too is a necessity; you won't always have a weapon handy, and Astrid notes that someone as big and strong as Ingvar would be foolish not to learn to use those fists more effectively. Knife fighting also becomes part of his daily training...again, Astrid points out that even the best swords have a disconcerting tendency to break, get dropped or stuck in a shield (or your opponent), or simply not be there when you need one...not all social situations allow for the wearing of broadswords, for instance, but the wise immortal will *always* have at least one knife somewhere on his or her person. The knife sessions are particularly bloody; Astrid refrains from too many full-contact blows with larger weapons, since carving a large chunk out of your body could leave even an immortal incapacitated for a while. But knife wounds heal pretty quickly, even when they're long and deep. She also says it's necessary for you to learn that you can get slashed open and still keep fighting...winning the fight is the important thing. After that, you can worry about stuffing your guts back into your belly. Then, she says he needs to start addressing his terrible shieldwork. At the end of two months, he's actually beginning to feel as if he's making some improvement. He's also being driven to distraction by the beautiful golden-haired woman, of mysterious origins and taunting demeanor, who clearly sees Ingvar as a student and nothing more. Compounded with this is his frustration at turning up no useful information about his wife and children. Funds are not a problem, as Astrid has plenty of silver; where she got it, Ingvar doesn't know, but she certainly spends it freely. This too irks his pride, though, and if not for the fact that combat training and rumor- hunting is taking up the entirety of his days, he would be looking for honest work as a carpenter, or something to make him feel he was earning his keep. These thoughts and others nag at him. Astrid, for her part, seems untroubled by any thoughts beyond the present. <><><><><> The warrior-woman, for her part, maintained a good humor throughout the training. She tried to keep herself from teasing him *too* badly; after all, everyone has a limit, and she was there to mentor him, not harm him. "So, Farm boy... you're not doing badly. I might just make a swordsman of you yet." She smiled, showing him her teeth. <><><><><> Ingvar: Over time, and since he is really enjoying the weapons training (despite the continual frustration of having this woman beat the crap out of him, which he probably wouldn't like much better coming from a man), Ingvar takes to bringing lunch up to their training spot in the hills so that they won't have to return to town for lunch. During one of these 'picnic' lunches, Ingvar asks Astrid a question that has been gnawing at the back of his brain for some time. "Astrid. When I asked you about not taking my head, you said that it went against the traditions among immortals. Are there *other* traditions or rules that govern 'our' behavior and relations?" He is obviously still somewhat uncomfortable speaking of himself as one of these 'larger-than-life' immortals. <><><><><> Astrid settles down and says, "All right, I told you there's a set of... rules, I guess... that our kind live by, Sit down, I'll give you the list." She settles in herself, then begins. "First off, you *know* that other immortals are going to be looking to take your head. There's a reason for that. Our kind is driven to kill one another until there is only one left. I told you about the Prize. We're all looking for that. We all want to be the last one. And there's a common phrase among immortals: 'there can be only one.' I don't know why, but that's how it is. In the end, there will be something called The Gathering where all the immortals left will be drawn to gather in the same place.. to kill one another." She pauses, and smiles wryly. "Your objective is to be the last one alive. Naturally, that's what all of us want, so it's not quite that easy. And there's more.." She holds up a finger. "One. NEVER fight on holy ground. You'll know holy ground when you step on it. It doesn't matter what religion this holy ground belongs to--if it's sacred, don't fight on it. Holy ground is sanctuary to our kind. Remember that." A second finger goes up. "When you fight another immortal, you do it alone, and you fight fair. Fighting someone who's unarmed is completely dishonorable. it'll get you hunted. You can't fight an immortal who's already hurt from another fight. Generally, if you try to take another immortal's head, you want to do it in fair single combat. If you take a coward's way out, other immortals will know." A third finger. "Involving the short-lived is out of the question. If they knew we walked among them, they'd.. well, let's just say they wouldn't like it much, and leave it at that. Try not to let them know what you're about, or to let them see a duel, when you're involved in one." A fourth finger. "Last thing. You do *not* kill fledglings. Like you. New immortals who don't know they're immortals are not to be killed. If you meet a new Immortal, and you wish to teach them about the Game, that's fine, but killing them is poor sport. Something like harpooning fish in a barrel." She raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Any questions?" <><><><><> Ingvar: Squatting awkward, Ingvar bites into an apple. He chomps and chews the juicy fruit as Astrid speaks. When she mentions other immortals hunting his head, he grunts and a sick look crosses his face, as though he had suddenly found a worm in his last bite. Murmuring softly as Astrid continues to instruct, Ingvar attempts to take in the information. "... only one... the gathering... be last one... holy ground... safe... fair fight... single combat... no 'short-lived'... fledglings... not kill... harpooning fish..." Ingvar is concentrating so hard that he almost seems to have gone into some kind of trance. Eventually, Astrid asks him if he has any questions. Ingvar spends several minutes staring at the sky, his fingers absently scratching his beard. As the pieces fall slowly together in his mind, Ingvar is starting to get the idea that he may be at a great disadvantage in this 'game'. As improbable as it seems, he is coming to accept that Astrid really is a warrior. She has certainly proven repeatedly that she can beat him in almost any kind of combat without hardly breaking a sweat. Ingvar is beginning to think that, as an immortal, he makes a great farmer. His heritage may have already doomed him to lose early in this great 'game'. Finally, Ingvar focuses back on the lovely woman before him. Damn. He knows that so beautiful a woman is beyond him in even 'that' way. "Yes. You say that the fights must be fair. Yet certainly, your skill way outstrips mine. And you've stated that there are immortals out there who are many hundreds of years older than you. If they hunt immortal heads for a living, then their skills must be truly immense. How can a fight between such a one as that and I *ever* be considered truly *fair*?" After she has a chance to answer that question, Ingvar continues. "What happens if someone *does* break the rules? Also, how do you know if someone is a 'fledgling' - is there some way to *sense* how old an immortal is? We have to keep what we are and how we function in the world a 'secret' from the mortal humans?" <><><><><> "Well," Astrid smiled. "Life itself really isn't fair. Not many of us make it to the first century for just this reason. There are some who'll kill you just to take your head and not care about fighting fair. That's why I'm tutoring you--so that doesn't happen to you." She paused and went on, "Age doesn't make skill though. I've beaten ones much, much older than me. Don't underestimate your opponent, but he shouldn't underestimate you--and if he does, use it to your advantage." Steepling her fingers, she went on. "As far as the reputation garnered by those who kill fledglings--well, word just gets around. Immortals are worse than washerwomen that way." She grins wolfishly. "You can't really tell how old an immortal is, no, though you *should* be able to sense the difference between an immortal who's met the first death and one that hasn't." His question about the secret of their immortality makes her laugh wryly, her nose scrunching a bit. "Oh, certainly! Go ahead, tell them. They won't believe you, and the ones who do will try and torture the secret of your long life out of you. It's not pleasant, torture. And more importantly, they'll never treat you like a person--they'll be too busy being jealous and angry that they were cheated." She regarded him with indefatigable amusement. <><><><><> Ingvar: "Sounds like sticking with you as long as you're willing to teach me is my best chance to stay alive," Ingvar replies. With a wink and a smile, he continues, "That shouldn't be *too* hard..." [OOC: According to episodes I recently saw for the first time, Amanda apparently stayed with her mentor, Rebecca, for several hundred years. Somehow, I doubt Astrid is likely to tolerate Ingvar for anywhere *near* that long. ] Ingvar contemplates for a few moments. "If immortals *gossip* that much, then there must be times when they get together for some other purpose than killing one another. Or is there some *other* way in which we communicate?" Astrid's humor regarding the likely response of mortal humans to being told about immortals causes Ingvar to scrunch his face up in a mixture of emotions. "I guess I can believe that - *I* sure didn't believe it was possible, and I'm *still* having some trouble believing it all. All the same, I think I'll keep my mouth shut. I think I've suffered enough torture for one lifetime, even if it lasts forever!" He ends with a smile and a chuckle, still doubting that he can live for such a great length of time. Surely they must age, even if it's quite slowly... Gulping the last of his ale, Ingvar can't think of any more questions. Getting up, he smiles at Astrid. "Guess it's time to swing this sword around for a couple more hours." <><><><><> "From time to time," she said, with amusement, "You invariably meet an immortal. In fact, you tend to ruin into one another rather more often than you might like. Since we can sense one another's presence, we can find one another as long as we're within a reasonable proximity." She watched his face. Gossip, indeed! As if Immortals were washerwomen! Actually, come to think of it, there was a commonality... Astrid chuckled. "We'll see others from time to time. I have a few that I recall with fondness. My own mentor, for instance..." She motioned to his sword. "Yes, lift that thing and let me show you what is wrong with your stance." She began to adjust his arms, his shoulders, with no embarrassment whatsoever as she continued talking. "Some of us have other friends among immortals. Despite the fact that we know how it must end, with the Gathering, it's easy to suspect that you will not be the one to kill those who aided you, or who did not harm you. There are enough of us who are bent on nothing save gathering heads that all we need to do is sit back and allow our guards to drop if we want to find out how easy it is." She turned his wrist slightly. "Now try that stance. Let's give it another try, shall we?" <><><><><> Ingvar: A look of worry / concern blooms upon Ingvar's face when Astrid explains that immortals encounter one another with surprising frequency. Having been around Astrid for a while now, and she being the *only* immortal of his acquaintance, Ingvar had actually started to ignore the buzzin his head. Being reminded that this will act as a beacon to other, potentially murderous, immortals does nothing to steady his nerves. "Y-you had a *mentor*..? Yes. Of course. I guess you must have." The thought of Astrid having been a 'fledgling' like him and learning from someone else catches Ingvar by surprise. Trying to follow the conversation and her sword instructions is straining his mental capacity nearly to the breaking point. However, hearing that she has actual 'friends' among the immortals helps Ingvar to relax. Twisting his body as instructed for this 'stance' which feels more like a sheep-shank knot, Ingvar pursues his curiosity. "Tell me about them: your mentor, your immortal friends..." While his words form a statement or instruction, Ingvar's tone is clearly that of a request. Sword up, he attempts to parry and attack from this excruciating new stance... <><><><><> Astrid laughed and knocked him off his feet with a single nasty but effective motion. She half-smiled down at him, offering him a hand up. "That's a story for another day. A long story, I might add. Now straighten your back and work with me here. If you don't follow instruction, I won't be able to teach you properly." She smiled and charged him the moment he had his footing once more... <><><><><> Ingvar: "*OOF*!" Ingvar grunts as he hits the ground. Looking up at Astrid, he snarls a bit, but then controls himself with a visible effort. Disdaining the hand she holds out, Ingvar climbs back to his feet. Astrid's words lash at him, and Ingvar applies himself seriously to getting the stance right. The moment he detects her lunge toward him, he lowers his shoulder behind his shield and shifts his weight forward, intending to use his strength to knock her on her butt. <><><><><> "Temper temper, farm boy," Astrid teased as he glared at her proffered hand. She shook the blonde hair from her eyes. As he shifted in place, she noted this stance with pride. Yes, he was learning how to use his strength to his advantage... but strength was not all there was. She shifted and turned her attack away from his defense, as quickly as she could, smiling brightly. <><><><><> [GM] Ingvar and Astrid continue their daily weapons training for another week, while they continue to learn nothing about Ingvar's lost family. Despite trying to be subtle about their inquiries, it's hard for a pair like them to avoid notice, and soon the news is out that the big guy from the hinterlands and the she-warrior are seeking some kids and a woman sold into slavery. So Ingvar is a little suspicious when a wharf-rat he recognizes from his time in Birka approaches excitedly, and says he *might* know someone who knows something. "I happened to mention to this fellow, in the ale house, 'bout the strange couple- no offense- what's looking for their kids," the scruffy little man says. Astrid is elsewhere in town, on one of her frequent shopping sprees (Ingvar doesn't know where the woman's money comes from, but she certainly loves spending it!) Orf Snaggle-tooth (you can't help feeling sorry for him for being stuck with that as a nickname, if nothing else) shifts from one foot to the other and says, "So, what's it worth to be introduced?" <><><><><> Ingvar: Being a bit naive, Ingvar starts to get excited as the wharf-rat offers him a clue to his family's whereabouts. A smile spreads across his rough face and memories of Helgi and the kids float across his mind's eye. "*Really*? Finally! I knew this would..." A flicker of a memory burns at the edge of Ingvar's mind. Something Astrid said when they were talking in the inn just after meeting. Something about 'scams' and people asking for money... Roughly grabbing the scruffy little man by the lapel, Ingvar hoists him into the air almost effortlessly. Menace and suspicion woven throughout his voice, Ingvar snarls at the man dangling in his grasp. "Is this some kind of *trick*?! Are you playing games with me?!" <><><><><> [GM] Orf sputters indignantly, thrashing in the air. "Let go of me! I come to you with information about your family and this is how you treat me? It's a trader who plies the routes to the inland, Lake Vänern and beyond. Maybe the one who *bought* your kin, for all I know!" <><><><><> Ingvar: Staring at the little man, Ingvar thinks for a few moments. Then, setting the man back on his feet, he comes as close to an apology as he is ever likely to. "Ok. I'll believe you, for now. But there are those who would try to use this kind of situation to cheat me of money. *Don't* be one of those!" Ingvar visibly relaxes somewhat. "Alright. Bring your friend and meet us at the inn at dinner time. If what you say is true, you will get paid then." <><><><><> [GM] Orf frowns, brushing himself off (not that there's much point.) "Uh, that's not what I meant. I mentioned you to this fellow, and he said maybe he knew something, but he didn't say he'd come talk to you. You're gonna have to go to him. And my reward is for telling you *where* and who." He looks at you expectantly. <><><><><> Ingvar: Not particularly reassured, Ingvar frowns back. "Ok. Let's go find Astrid, and then you can show us where to meet this guy. Come on." Ingvar half-turns and looks expectantly at Orf to make sure that he is coming. <><><><><> [GM] Orf lingers, then follows reluctantly. "Ain't so keen on talking to your she- wolf lady," he mutters. "That woman is..." his voice trails off, as he realizes further negative comments in your presence might be unwise. Fortunately, it's easy to find Astrid, just by heading in the general direction you think she's gone, and waiting until you feel the Quickening to tell you you're close. You find her inspecting the wares an Arab merchant has displayed near the docks, finely woven clothing with bright colors that hurt your eyes, foreign silks, and expensive wrought jewelry. She takes as much pleasure in picking over these feminine baubles and finery as she does in smacking you around with a sword. <><><><><> Ingvar: A look of anger begins to grow on Ingvar's face, but Orf backs down and the feeling fades. A little while later, another feeling rises: that familiar queasy buzzing sensation he gets whenever Astrid is nearby. What does she call it?.. The Quickening. Moments later, Ingvar has located the woman-warrior. Not surprisingly, she is enjoying her shopping and infuriating the merchant all at the same time. Ingvar approaches her, knowing that even though she isn't paying him any attention, Astrid is aware of his presense. "Astrid. I need to talk to you. We *may* finally have a lead on finding my family." <><><><><> The blonde warrior senses Ingvar even before he speaks. She looks up from a haircomb-and-brush set of lapis and raises an eyebrow. A slow smile crosses her face. "That's *wonderful* news!" She beams prettily and puts down the item. "Tell me everything. What's happened? Where are they? When do you want to leave?" She listens as she picks the set up again and considers its purchase. No, better to come back another day. To the shopkeeper, she says, "I will consider this. My friend and I have matters to discuss." Turning back to Ingvar, she winked and murmured, "Best way to get them to bring the prices down. Now, where are we off to?" <><><><><> Ingvar: Rather than returning Astrid's arrogant smile, Ingvar just waits for her with a hard look in his eyes and grumbles under his breath. Always a smarta**... Why did I have to get stuck with someone like *her* as my mentor?... When she finishes with the merchant, Ingvar's tone is very serious. "How about into the alley there so you can hear what *Orf* here has to say?" With that he turns and gestures for her to lead the way to the gap between the buildings. If she goes, he will then follow Orf and her to the slightly more private spot. <><><><><> Astrid rolls her eyes and laughs. Ingvar could be such a pain sometimes. She shrugged and followed him to the alleyway. "So what's so important, farm boy?" <><><><><> Ingvar: The burly carpenter shrugs at Astrid's question and attitude both. "You decide for yourself." Ingvar turns and steps back a step making room for Orf. "Orf, tell her what you told me." <><><><><> [GM] Orf looks unhappy, and tries to keep Ingvar between himself and Astrid. He's obviously unnerved by the tall woman-warrior. "Like I said, I met a slave-trader who plies the route inland, said he might remember a woman and kids like you two been askin' about. I know where he is, and I can take you there, but it isn't like he's my friend, so you two gotta do any talkin' with him yourselves. And I want something for my trouble, *before* then." <><><><><> Ingvar: Turning back to Astrid, Ingvar frowns. "Well, what do you think? As you mentioned before, scams like this are possible. Then again, it's the only clue we have, and he at least has the story straight. What do we lose if we check it out? He's volunteered to come along, so if this is some kind of scheme to jump us and take our money, I'll gladly gut him like a fish before they kill me. And if this 'merchant' is the one who's lying, then we'll take it out on *him*." "So. What do you think?" <><><><><> [GM] "Hey, I'm only taking you to where he's at, I'm not going inside with you or waiting until after you finish talking to him!" Orf protests. <><><><><> Ingvar: Ignoring Orf's protests, Ingvar waits to hear Astrid's response. <><><><><> "I don't know, I think gutting him like a fish *now* might be fun," Astrid offered. "But I guess we should find out what he's talking about. Take us there. And if there is any treachery, you'll taste my steel." She stifled a giggle. Taste my steel, indeed. Who talked like that? <><><><><> [GM] Orf gives Astrid a wrinkled, unhappy look, backing away. Then he turns and leads you down the street, glancing nervously over his shoulder. In the local merchants' quarter, he stops in front of an ale-house, and gestures inside. "He's in there. Now where's my money?" <><><><><> "Money?" Astrid looks to Ingvar and says, with some surprise, "You promised this fool money when you didn't even know if this would turn out to be a trap? Oh, farm boy..." She shakes her head. "Kids." <><><><><> Ingvar: "No. I didn't promise him *anything*. He *requested* money. I waited to see what *your* take on the situation would be," Ingvar replies evenly. Then, raising one eyebrow. "You're supposed to be my *teacher*, yet how am I to learn anything from you if you are always leaping to foolish assumptions?" "Tell you what, O Ancient One. You take a look inside to make sure this isn't a trap and I will wait here with Orf. If it's not, then I'll pay this fine man and join you inside. Ok?" <><><><><> Astrid studied Ingvar's face and shook her head, stifling a giggle. "Sorry, farm boy. Age has taught me one thing--assume *everything* is a trap. I've escaped far too many traps to just go walking in..." She paused, reflected, and then shrugged. "But you don't want to hear this now. Tell you what. You go inside. I'll wait here with the guttersnipe. If it's on the up and up, I'll pay him and join you. If not, I'll skewer him and join the fight inside. I'm sure you can defend yourself against them long enough for me to get there." The wolfish grin returned. "Sometime in the far distant future, remind me to tell you about the time I walked into the trap in... no, never mind. Go on." <><><><><> Ingvar: Sigh. Ingvar pauses to scratch his beard for a second. "Actually, I was talking about your assumption that I promised Orf money. Oh well, 'sword girl', live and learn." Ingvar appears just a *bit* surprised at Astrid's suggestion, and maybe a bit disappointed that *he* won't be the one to gut Orf if things don't turn out. "Ok. Whatever you think best. If you hear me yelling, come a'running." After a moment's hesitation, Ingvar turns and steps towards Orf. "so what does this guy look like, Orf? I'll need to know which one to ask when I get in there." <><><><><> "I'm hardly a girl If I told you how old I am, you... oh, forget it." Astrid grinned wolfishly at Ingvar and patted the sword. "I'll come if things get ugly. Bet your last penny on it. I never miss a good fight... unless I want to." She smiled at her own cryptic remark, and waved him on. <><><><><> [GM] "He's a merchant!" Orf replies impatiently to Ingvar, as if that describes the man's appearance completely. "He's wearing a red shirt, I think. S'name's Reinn. Hey, I'm not even promising he'll *want* to talk to you! But a trap? Gods, you two are paranoid!" <><><><><> Ingvar: S***. Doesn't this woman ever listen to herself? Ingvar stands looking bemused and confused. He shuffles his feet. "And *I*'m hardly a 'boy'..." He seems ready to say more, but doesn't. "Red shirt... Reinn... Got it, I think. Paranoid? I never was before... Damn. Better get this over with." With that, Ingvar turns and heads into the inn. Once inside, if he's not attacked immediately, he looks around for a moment, trying to let his eyes adjust to the lighting level and see if anyone obviously fits the description... <><><><><> [GM] Inside, nothing appears out of the ordinary. There are a number of men sitting around at the low tables, drinking, but no one gives you any unusual scrutiny as you enter. At one table, a richly-dressed man in a red shirt is talking to another probable merchant. Both of them have a collection of jewelry sitting on the table in front of them; they would appear to be either negotiating, or just showing off their respective wares. Both men have a couple of warrior-types sitting at their side. <><><><><> Ingvar: The gaze of the burly carpenter and warrior-wannabe comes to a rest on the pair of merchants, especially the one in the red shirt. For a few moments, Ingvar's eyes pick up the gleam of the valuables littering the table in front of them. Then, remembering his family, he tears his gaze from the riches and stalks over to their table. If nothing bars his way, Ingvar will approach the pair, keeping an eye on their escort of warriors, and stop a few feet from the far side of the table. Staring at the man in the red shirt, Ingvar interrupts their conversation. "Hello. Are you Reinn?" [Amadan, About how much silver does Ingvar have left at this point?] <><><><><> [GM] [A couple weeks worth of living expenses left...not a lot for additional purchases, though Astrid has been buying a lot of stuff for you. She's generous with her wealth, at least.] The red-shirted merchant looks up at you. "Yes, I am. And who are you?" His companion, and the warriors (most likely, bodyguards) on either side of them regard you warily. <><><><><> Ingvar: Not liking the way the warriors/bodyguards are eyeing him, Ingvar takes a step backward so that he can see them better. Returning his gaze to Reinn, he fidgets a bit and scratches his beard. "I'm Ingvar the Stout. I hear tell you might know something of what happened to my family. Is that true?" <><><><><> [GM] Reinn frowns at you. "You're the one that scruffy fellow from the docks was telling me about? You and your wife searching for lost kinfolk?" He seems to study you for a moment, particularly looking at your axe. "I deal in slaves occasionally. Not very profitable lately. If I sold your family, it was legal and proper. You wouldn't be planning to start any trouble, would you?" The warriors shift in their seats slightly, threateningly. <><><><><> Ingvar: One word from Reinn's response hits him like a hammer. Ingvar staggers back a step as though struck. His cheeks flush and his eyes become round like twin moons. "*W-w-wife*?!" he sputters. "You think I'm married to that... that... whatever she is?!" Ingvar flings his arm out, gesturing roughly back in the direction of the door. The looks on the faces around him, more than anything, cause him to realize that he could well be blowing his one big chance here. Visibly shaking, Ingvar struggles to get himself back under control. Relaxing his hands, which had become knotted in fists, he pulls his jerkin down at the hem. "Uh... Never mind that. Yes. I am the one you have heard of. Umm... No. I'm not planning any trouble. I *hate* what has happened to my family, and I have already settled accounts with those who are to blame. This is not *your* fault; it's just business to you. At this point, I just want to find my family again. Can you help me?" While anger still lights his face, there is a tone of pleading in his voice, moreso than he realizes. <><><><><> [GM] Reinn is still frowning. "I'm conducting *business* right now," he says. "If you're asking a favor of me, you might consider asking it some time when you're not interrupting me." <><><><><> Ingvar: He stands there for a moment, nonplussed, not quite sure how to respond. Part - a large part - of him wants to get angry, but even Ingvar can figure out that that might hurt his chances of getting the information he needs. And he's not going to let *anything* get in the way of finding his family. "I don't think it would take much of your time, but - ok - I can wait." With that, Ingvar turns and heads back to the door. Peaking out, he spots Astrid and Orf. "Send the man on his way. It looks like Reinn may have be able to tell us about my family. We may have to wait awhile to talk with him, though." He glances back into the room to make sure Reinn hasn't gone anywhere. <><><><><> [GM] Reinn is still talking to his fellow merchant. One of his men looks back at you looking at them. Orf looks back and forth between Ingvar and Astrid, then faces Astrid and holds his hand out expectantly. "Traps, indeed!" he says scornfully. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid drops a few coins into Orf's hand. "All right, off with you!" she says with amusement. Orf frowns, at her and at the amount (though he'd probaby be dissatisfied with any amount), but walks away. Your infuriating teacher leans against the wall, and pulling out a knife, begins grooming her nails. "So, I assume you figured out that grabbing this merchant by the neck won't be the best way to get information?" she grins. "Oh, lighten up, youngster." She giggles again. She seems to really like calling you that, when you clearly *look* almost old enough to be her father....or at least a very elder brother. "You can't take being teased AT ALL...I can't stand a man with no sense of humor." She leans around and peeks inside. "Now, if he DOES know something and won't say, then we can get rough. But not here." <><><><><> Ingvar: Maybe he is finally starting to get used to her, or maybe 'youngster' just doesn't get his goat the way 'farm boy' does, but Astrid's comments don't provoke much more from Ingvar than a quickening of the pulse. "Yeah, I figured that out... Actually, Reinn said that he was conducting business right now and we should approach him when he is less busy. I thought we could get a table inside, have an ale or two , and wait for him to conclude his deal. Hopefully, he'll be more willing to aid me at that point. Sorry, I *know* how *disappointed* you'll be if this works out without 'getting rough', but I'd rather avoid endangering my *possible* source of information. Shall we go in?" <><><><><> [GM] Astrid shakes her head. "I like a good brawl, but I never said anything about getting a kick out of roughing up mortals unnecessarily. Beating up merchants is stupid, when they usually respond much better to silver." She follows you inside. You see Reinn and his companions eye the two of you warily, as you choose a table on the other side of the room and order some ale. Astrid is once again virtually the center of attention...and loving it. She actually preens a bit before sitting down, and gives you a delightful, beaming smile as she knocks back a flagon. <><><><><> Ingvar: "Well, you may not have *said* it," Ingvar replies, "but the gleam in your eyes when you talk about it certainly speaks loudly enough." Sitting back with flagon in hand, Ingvar watches Astrid preen. *So* like a woman... Ingvar resists the urge to match the warrior-woman flagon for flagon; he wants to be fully lucid when he talks with Reinn. Besides, she is providing more than a bit of entertainment. While he doesn't *stare* at the man, Ingvar keeps an eye in the direction of the merchant so as to know when the 'business' is done. It wouldn't do for Reinn to slip away before he can question the man... <><><><><> [GM] Astrid actually looks a bit younger when she's loosened up by drink, but she doesn't drink that much. No doubt she wants to be sure not to miss any brawls that might erupt. Reinn talks to his friend long enough to make you extremely fidgety, and Astrid continues enjoying your discomfort. "Relax, youngster," she says. "The *first* thing our kind should learn is patience." Eventually, the other merchant gets up and says farewell. Both men look satisfied with their business transactions. Reinn glances over at you and Astrid, perhaps not sure if he really wants to talk to such an odd and dangerous-looking couple. <><><><><> Ingvar: While Astrid may appear even younger, she is no less beautiful. Were Ingvar any less unattractive himself, or any less dedicated to his family, he would feel even more frustrated in her presense. "Patience, huh? Actually, I think I've been as patient about this as about anything in my life, and that because the stakes are so high." remembering his earlier conversation, and wanting to see her reaction, Ingvar tosses in one more comment. "By the way, did I tell you that Reinn thought you were my *wife*?.." He finishes with a nasty grin. Seeing Reinn's deal-making conclude, Ingvar gestures for draw Astrid's attention to that fact. "Looks like Reinn's done. He looks a little intimidated by us, so how about you wait here and I'll go talk to him?" Not really waiting for a reply, he gets up and heads over to the merchant's table. Standing a few paces back from the edge of the table, Ingvar looks down at Reinn. "It looks like you're no longer busy with your deals. How 'bout you talk to me, now?" <><><><><> "He thought I was your wife?" Astrid laughed softly. "How amusing. And I assume you let him go on thinking that." Shaking her head, she began to drain the flagon as he walked away. She went to stand, then shook her head. "Damned impatient youngster," she muttered with more than a hint of amusement, watching Ingvar approach the man. Her hand rested at the hilt of her blade, just in case things got ugly. She hoped money would be exchanged rather than blows--not because she doubted her ability, or indeed, the new-found skill of her pupil, but because she knew it would force him never to find his family. She watched the exchange with curiosity. <><><><><> [GM] Reinn drums his fingers, while his two bodyguards continue to stare at you with looks that say "Don't try anything!" The merchant leans back in his chair. "Tell me about your family," he says. <><><><><> Ingvar: "Of course not," is Ingvar's only reply to Astrid's comment. Looking down at the merchant, Ingvar proceeds to answer Reinn's request. "Very well. They would have been... *purchased* in a small town a little north of Gullspang along the shore of Lake Vanern." It's not hard to tell that Ingvar is less than happy about his family being sold. Nevertheless, he continues on to give Reinn the same information that they have been distributing to everyone - the recitation has become nearly rote by now - general descriptions, ages, etc. Once he is done, Ingvar asks the question that has been burning in his mind ever since meeting Orf. "Well, Reinn? Do you know aught of them?" <><><><><> [GM] "They sound like some slaves I bought," Reinn affirms. "But not around Gullspång. They were brought to me here, in Birka. I figured they'd wound up at the wrong end of a legal dispute." He shrugs. "I sold them in Kolberg, on my way to Novgorod. Didn't get such a great price, but the woman was ill, and might not have made the rest of the trip. I ended up turning back anyway, because of bad weather. That's my I'm here, else I'd be in the east by now. " <><><><><> Ingvar: "Damn. Damndamndamndamn*damn*!" Ingvar takes several rough, shaky breaths and forces himself to calm down. "Ok. What you say about them being brought here is different than what I had been told, so it's possible it's not *my* family that you... purchased. Can you tell me *who* you bought them from? Can you tell me anything else about them that might help me determine whether it *is* the same woman and children?" Ingvar isn't sure whether he hopes that they *are* his family, or not... <><><><><> [GM] "Your description matches. I haven't sold any other families lately." Reinn shrugs. "The three men who brought them here were from the hinterlands...around the area you told me, Lake Vanern. Sorry, I don't even remember their names. One of 'em called the oldest 'uncle'." <><><><><> Ingvar: "Hmm. That doesn't help much." The big carpenter-cum-warrior scowls. "Do you remember *who* you sold them to in this 'Kolberg'? Was it another merchant, a farmer, or someone else? Do you remember a name?" <><><><><> [GM] "A 'Harnut' something...he was a minor nobleman, oversaw part of the city." Reinn shrugs. "I don't keep meticulous records. I was just trying to dump my cargo and get back to Birka ahead of the winter storms." <><><><><> Ingvar: "Well... I suppose that's something to go on." Ingvar, still scowling, scratches his beard. "Thank you, Reinn. If what you have told me is true, I may yet find my family. Turning, Ingvar begins to walk away, then steps back to the table. Reaching into his pouch, he pulls out a handful of silver coins. "If I do find my family, and run into you later, I will gladly give you more, but this is all I can afford right now." With that, he heads back to the table where Astrid sits. <><><><><> The blonde woman seems almost disappointed that it didn;t come to a fight. She smiles wryly at Ingvar. "So... what did the *gentleman* have to say?" <><><><><> Ingvar: Ingvar sighs as he sits down at the table. Looking at him, it's hard to say whether he's happy or not. "Well, I believe he did buy, and sell, my family. Reinn says they were brought here to Birka, apparently by a couple of Harald's kin. He was travelling toward Novgorod, but the whether was becoming foul. While stopped in some city named 'Kolberg', he says he sold Helgi and the children to some nobleman, name of Harnut. Reinn then fled back here ahead of the storm." <><><><><> "Kolberg, eh?" The blonde warrior considers this tidbit. "I know of a Kolberg in Germania... along the north coast. I've never been there, but I've heard a great many things. Possibly even some of them true." She stopped the barrage of humor, seeing the expression on Ingvar's face. "All right then, I'd say the order of events is, first we find this Harnut fellow and then we get your family back. There's bound to be some difficulty in between, but it's nothing we can't handle between the two of us, I'm sure." She fluffs her hair slightly, and thinks, then asks, "Nothing more? He hasn't given you much. Perhaps you should ask him about this Harnut. The man's disposition and so forth." <><><><><> Ingvar: "Well, that's more than I can claim," Ingvar replies without a trace of humor. "I'm probably lucky to have even heard of *Novgorod*." Ingvar nods, but doesn't say anything as Astrid speaks of future plans. A grimace crosses his face when she brings up querying the merchant further. "I doubt he knows any more; he couldn't even remember the rest of the man's name." As Astrid doesn't seem swayed by his argument, he continues, "I guess I might as well ask." Turning, Ingvar looks to see if Reinn is still in the room. If so, he approaches the merchant's table once again. <><><><><> [GM] Reinn was getting up to leave. He looks at you with something like annoyance as you approach him again, and says "Now what?" <><><><><> Ingvar: Though glad that he managed to catch Reinn before he left, Ingvar can't bring himself to apologize. In fact, the man is starting to annoy him, and he gets *plenty* of that from Astrid. "Uh, Astrid there was wondering if you could tell us any more about this Harnut guy before we run off to Kolberg. Anything about his personality, how wealthy he is, whether he keeps bodyguards like yours, how he treats his 'slaves', or anything else that might be helpful?" <><><><><> [GM] Reinn looks at you as if you're daft. "Astrid was wondering that, was she? Well, I wish you luck on your trip to Kolberg, but Harnut was a customer, not an acquaintance. I told you all I know. Kolberg isn't as lawless as some places in Germania, so I'd keep that in mind before trying to pursue a local nobleman. Good day." With that, he moves towards the exit, with his bodyguard following, giving you a warning scowl. <><><><><> Ingvar: Responding more to Reinn's tone than his words, Ingvar begins to snarl. His hands clench and unclench, and he shifts his balance slightly forward in a more aggressive posture. However, seeing the look on the bodyguard's face as they leave, Ingvar manages to reign himself in. He suspects that with his immortality, the fight would hardly be fair, and he has no desire to kill the bodyguard. Turning, he stomps back to his seat at the other table. Slumping into his chair, he drains his flagon while continuing to scowl. Finally, he looks over at his beautiful tormenter. "He either couldn't, or wouldn't, tell us any more. You're right, not much to go on, but more than we had previously." <><><><><> [GM] Astrid smiles. "Well.....I'd say probably couldn't. If he was reluctant to tell you about this Harnut, he probably wouldn't have said anything in the first place." She shrugs, always an eye-catching movement from her. "All right, then unless you fancy waiting around to see if any other leads turn up, I'd say we're best off to Kolberg. If we can't barter your family free, or liberate them ourselves-" she grins, looking enthusiastic- "why, we can come back, and hire a crew and a ship to go rescue them in a raid!" You aren't sure about the feasibility of this plan, but you've learned it's best not to try discouraging the she-warrior. <><><><><> Ingvar: The thought of bartering for or 'liberating' his family brings a look of joy to Ingvar's face, the likes of which Astrid has not previously witnessed. His gaze travels up from her bosom where it had gravitated during her gesture to an empty part of the air above the table as he imagines being reunited with Helgi and the little ones. Come to think of it, Istrid wouldn't be so 'little' any more, being what, almost 9 now..? As Astrid continues on about getting a ship and crew for a raid, something begins to nag at the back of Ingvar's mind. Though he has little conscious awareness of it at this point, a germ of a concern starts to form. "Uh, yeah. *Great*!" Ingvar exclaims. "When can we leave? How long will it take to get the money and equipment to go there and look for my family?" He obviously has little idea of what is needed in the way of money or supplies for such a trip, and is relying on Astrid to plan the trip and tell him what to do to help prepare. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid laughs. "Just going there on our own won't be too difficult....we'll have to pay a captain who's going that direction anyway to take us along, but I think I can offer enough to persuade someone like Reinn to take on a couple of passengers." "Now, if we aren't able to just walk into Kolberg, find Harnut, and buy your family's freedom, then it becomes more complicated." She folds her arms over her chest. "You do realize one way or the other, you're going to owe me one hell of a debt when we're done?" <><><><><> Ingvar: "I'm sure you *can*!" Ingvar replies with a laugh. He's certain that money isn't the only thing she has to offer, though Astrid certainly seems to have plenty of that. The word "complicated" bothers the stocky Swede. Ingvar has always preferred 'simple', and has worked hard most of his life to keep things from getting complicated. "*OWE YOU*!" Ingvar bellows, his cheerful mood vanishing with the words. "What do you mean?! I... I... S***! I guess you *have* paid for a lot and such. Hardly my concept of hospitality, though." He folds his massive arms across his chest in counterpoint to her slimmer ones. "So, just *what*are you going to want in return?" The look on his face isn't particularly warm or friendly at this point. <><><><><> [GM] "Hospitality?" Astrid snorts. "I found you wandering around lost and clueless, took you in, *and* I've been paying all the bills for the last month! What code of hospitality obliges me to do that? I'm telling you about.....us-" she glances around to make sure no mortals might be listening in, "and training you to stop handling your weapons as if you were still chopping trees, because that's my duty as an elder immortal." She giggles suddenly, as if pleased at referring to herself as an 'elder'. "But paying your way gratis, and following you around the world while you search for your mortal kin, is NOT one of my obligations." She pushes her chair back. "Don't get me wrong, farm-boy, I'll do it. I'm just saying, after this is all over, I have a few plans of my own...and then it'll be your turn to help me on *my* quest." <><><><><> Ingvar: As Astrid replies at length, Ingvar's countenance becomes ever darker. The anger welling in his breast is only kept in check by the fact that she is right. *Damn her*! "Fine," he replies icily. "While I realize that the code or rules or whatever are pretty loose about whether you are 'required' to train me, you certainly aren't 'required' to help me find my family. Then again, I was under the impression that you *volunteered*. Nevertheless, how about telling me just what these plans of yours are: this 'quest' of yours. At least give me some idea what I'm getting myself involved in." The fingers of his left hand are visibly white where they grip his right bicep. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid grins, in a manner you'd call catlike if you'd ever seen a cat. "There's time enough for that later," she says, once again deflecting inquiries into her past, her present motives, and her future intentions, as she always does. Her face softens. "Oh, calm down, farmboy." She pats your tightly- clenched hand. "I don't have anything nefarious planned for you. Let's just say, there are some things I want to do, and much as I hate to admit it, there are some things a woman just can't do without the help of a man." What immediately comes to mind, of course, is something Astrid has already told you is impossible, so she leaves you brooding over other possibilities as she drops some coins on the table and saunters towards the door. <><><><><> Ingvar: Damn it! He *knows* this woman is jerking him around. And there's nothing he can do about it; he *can't* give up on his family! She can't mean... NO! Impossible. She said so herself. So what..? Thoughts chugging though his brain, Ingvar suddenly realizes that Astrid is already half-way out the door. "Hey, *Astrid*! Wait. I'm coming." He turns and trots after her even as the words emerge from her mouth. Catching up easily, he addresses her as they walk. "Fine. Just remember: there are some things even *I* won't do. Got it? So now what? When do we catch the boat?" <><><><><> [GM] Astrid smiles. "Come on, fledgling. Let's just go down to the docks and see who's leaving soon. If we're lucky, we'll be under way by the end of the week." As luck would have it, you find a captain sailing east the day after tomorrow. The warrior woman negotiates briefly with the bemused Dane, then shows him enough coins to win two berths on his longship. "Pack whatever you need, Ingvar," she tells you, heading back to your respective sleeping halls. "Oh, and you'd better get ready to start learning another language, too." <><><><><> Ingvar: The stocky would-be warrior follows Astrid down to the docks. Ingvar is eager to leave, and her willingness to leave as soon as possible cheers him. Whatever was nagging at the back of his mind is forgotten - for now... All the way back, Ingvar is as excited as a little kid. "Great! Ok." Then Astrid catches him by surprise. "Language? What language? And whatever *for*?" He never really thought about the fact that they would speak another language wherever it is that they are going. Ingvar can't help but wonder whether he will even be *able* to learn another language. Returning to his room, Ingvar has a hard time sleeping, so excited is he. Getting up early, he packs up all of his few belongings for the trip, only keeping out what he will wear and the things he will need for his daily training session with Astrid. No doubt, this development won't deter her taste for humbling him with her sword! <><><><><> [GM] Ingvar's sleep is filled with images of his family, Helgi, Istrid and Hammar, and poor dead Sigtrigg, who killed herself not knowing her husband was still alive to rescue her. And of Astrid, the most infuriating woman he's ever known. She looks almost young enough to be his daughter, sometimes acts as childish and coquettish as nine year-old Istrid, other times seems to be every bit as old and wise as she claims to be. The next morning, Ingvar awakes just after dawn, emerging to meet Astrid for morning weapons practice (or his morning beating, as he's come to think of it, though he is getting hit a *little* less often, and Astrid has even made a favorable comment or two about his improvement.) The two immortals go up into the hills like usual, for what will be their last practice session before leaving for Europe. Astrid is particularly vicious this morning, and actually kills the bigger man. When he revives, after having been impaled with her two-handed sword, she's calmly perched on a rock, polishing the big blade which is laid across her knees. "Now you'll have something to do during our trip," she says sweetly, pointing at the rent in your chainmail shirt. On the way back down to town, she begins telling him what she knows of the Kolberg area....not a lot, as she's been through Germania before, but only the southern parts. She speaks the language a bit, the southern dialect anyway, and proudly tells you that she speaks *eight* languages fluently. And that Norse is not even her native tongue. Pacing down the street, bustling with activity, Astrid chatters on about her travels along the Frankish coast, through Germania, Saxony, Franconia, Lorraine, Swabia and Bavaria, and even to far-away Italia, and even father-away Constantinople. "And I've been overseas, to Ifriquiya, and Britannia, and someday I may visit Baghdad, if I can figure out how a woman can travel there without having to kill every man that wants to put a robe and a veil on me, which may be where you come in....." Her voice trails off as you come upon a man in a brown robe, walking down the street clutching a thick book in his hands, and orating loudly to anyone who will listen- "...He *is* your salvation! All who come unto Him will have everlasting life! There is no paradise in the afterlife but through God almighty and His Son, Jesus Christ! The glory you have been promised by invoking the names of Odin, Tyr, Thor...it's all lies! Those are false gods, and will lead you to Niffleheim, the hell where all who are deceived into following false deities will arrive! Listen, I say to you the truth is that there is no difference between Loki and Hel, and the so-called Vanir and Aesir that you think represent 'good' gods...they are all demons and servants of Satan! What have any of your so-called gods done for you lately?" The man sounds a bit odd, and some listeners are muttering at the way he casually insults the gods, but he shows no fear at all of doing so, and he does have quite a few people listening to him with interest. Astrid has stopped, to watch the foreigner with an expression of mild surprise. <><><><><> Ingvar: Dragging himself back to life, Ingvar looks up to see Astrid polishing her sword unconcernedly, as usual. As he lies there letting his body mend, he can't help be amazed yet again that a woman, and especially one so young-looking and beautiful, can wield a sword with such power and skill. It takes a moment for his brain to process her words. Then, Ingvar looks down dumbly at his chest, still feeling the effects of shock. After yet another few moments, he gazes back up at Astrid, words dribbling weakly from his lips. "Huh? Fix it? How? I'm a carpenter, not a metal- smith." Walking back into town, Ingvar tries to follow Astrid's dialogue, but it is more than he can keep up with. Still, certain statements catch his ear. "*Eight*? Are there *really* that many languages in the world?" This idea alone seems to strain his belief. "What *is* your native language? What does it sound like? And what language is it that you intend for me to learn?" As she continues to chatter on, Astrid mentions many places he has never even heard of. This talk of 'robes' and 'veils' confuses Ingvar, but he says nothing so as to avoid more of Astrid's acid tongue, even though he has no idea what these things could have to do with him... Ingvar stops, staring at the madman who dares to wander the street preaching the message of the foreign god. A few moments, and he has heard all he can bear to listen to. Stepping forward, he addresses the man, anger evident in his expression. "*Liar*! How dare you come here and spread your foriegn lies about?! Take your filthy foreign god and go back where you came from! We don't want you here!" Without waiting for a reply, Ingvar turns to those who have gathered about. "What's wrong with you?! Why do you stand there listening to this snake and his blasphemy!? Our gods have been with us for years uncounted! Turn your backs on Tyr and Thor and Heimdall, and you will truly learn the error of your ways! If there be any demons, it be those like *this* man who come and spread dirty lies and try to turn us from our own true gods! Send him away, I say!" <><><><><> [GM] "You need to learn to take care of your armor and weapons, farm-boy," Astrid smirks. Back in town, she laughs at your question. "What, do you think that Norse is spoken all over the world? Every people has their own language." "Domine, mittere digneris sanctum Angelum tuum de caelis, qui custodiat, foveat, protegat, vistet, atque defendat omnes habitantes in hoc habitaculo," she intones. "That is how my people pray." She grins. "We don't speak quite so formally in everyday conversation, though. I've been told our language has changed a lot in the last few centuries, by immortals who've watched it happen." She shrugs. "The language you'll need to learn, to speak to people in Germania, is German. Fortunately for you, it's not that different from Norse." The priest listens calmly to your outburst. "What fills you so with anger?" he asks. "Your gods are dying, friend, consigned to the pits of hell where they belong. Word of the One God and His Son is spreading, from Denmark to Novgorod, throughout your pagan lands! You can send me away, but nothing will stop the Word from spreading." <><><><><> Ingvar: He scowls as Astrid recites in her own language. The sound of the words seems sinister and alien to him. "Sounds like you have rocks in your mouth, little sister." And her casual mention of immortals who have lived for *centuries* does nothing to improve his disposition. "German, huh? And it's *like* Norse? Very well, a *real* language, then. And are the Germanians like us as well?" "What angers me?!" Ingvar spews, veins bulging on his forehead. "Your treacherous lies are sufficient. Our gods dying? *Bah*! The Aesir and Vanir are far more alive than your imaginary 'One God'. I *spit* on your 'One God'." And spit he does, into the dirt at the madman's feet. "I shall not listen to your vileness any longer, and anyone who does is no *real* Norseman." As he finishes, Ingvar turns, meeting the eyes of those gathered, then storms off. After covering 30 yards or so in their previous direction, Ingvar looks back over his shoulder for Astrid. "You coming?!" <><><><><> [GM] Astrid follows you, with a frown. Surprisingly, she's silent for a few minutes. She seems to be brooding about something. Then she says "That prayer I recited earlier....that was a prayer to our one God, which you spit on." <><><><><> Ingvar: Seeing Astrid following a bit behind, Ingvar continues to stomp along. It's only when she speaks up that he stops. Turning, he stares at her for long moments, a frown scarring his already rugged features. "*Dammit*! That's just great. I don't care *who* you worship. But I will oppose *any* supposed god whose followers come here and try to make my people turn away from *our* gods! As far as *I'm* concerned, it's no different than invading by force of arms. I will *always* defend my people and my heritage! Only my family is more important to me." The mention of his family reminds him of where they were going and why they were out and about this morning. "So where is that boat and how much time do we have before it leaves?" <><><><><> [GM] Astrid smiles wryly at you. "If you only knew how funny that sounds, coming from a Norseman. Your people have sacked, pillaged and burned half the known world, and here you are acting like your homeland is under attack because some daft priest is preaching on the streets. When in fact it was your OWN people who carried off YOUR wife and daughter and son." She claps you on the shoulder. "I don't think you'd want to meet my mentor, Ingvar. And you'd better learn some tolerance for the One God, because that's who the people of Germania worship now, for the most part." "The boat leaves *tomorrow*, you block-head! Today we're just buying supplies." She sighs and shakes her head. "What AM I going to do with you....you'd be lost without me!" <><><><><> Ingvar: While Ingvar knows that Norsemen have done some raiding over the years, Astrid's statement comes as something of a surprise. "Really? Well, I'm sure those people tried to defend themselves for the same reason. And they in turn probably raided others, and were resisted by those peoples." "And this 'priest' is hardly alone. His type is crawling all over this land. Why, they say that even King Eirik may soon convert! If they steal our soul, then how hard will it be to conquer the land? I would rather a few mongrel curs like the Firehair clan - b******* that they are - whom I at least know and can understand, than being slaves to some alien ruler!" "*Your* mentor..?" For some reason, this idea still seems strange to him. But Astrid's further words have more impact on his thoughts. "God's *no*! Have the followers of this One God consumed the entire rest of the *world*? And now they have my family..." Ingvar slumps to match the dejected tone in his voice. For them to be in the hands of such people truly frightens him. Ingvar hardly hears the rest of what Astrid has to say, just follows along behind her like a beaten dog. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid snorts. "It's all a matter of perspective, farm-boy," is all she says in reply. The next day, you are up at dawn, after sleeping not at all the night before. You find Astrid standing on the docks, with three large chests stuffed full of her personal possessions. She's arguing with the captain, who obviously wasn't counting on his passengers bringing so much luggage along. But eventually, another few coins induces the merchant to reluctantly wave them on board. Astrid smiles and victoriously shakes her long golden locks with a toss of her head. <><><><><> Ingvar: Arriving bleary-eyed at the docks, Ingvar is carting along *far* less than Astrid. Then again, he has far less that he can call his own. He is wearing his chain hauberk, since he rather likes the image of himself as a warrior, with his sword, sax, and axe carried at his waist. The rest of his weapons, his two changes of clothes, and the few personal items that he still has are strapped together into a rough bundle slung over his shoulder. Ingvar chuckles as Astrid gets her way (not surprisingly) this the merchant captain. Following her aboard, he looks about, trying to determine where to put his things. Having never been aboard a large ship before, he is rather uncertain as to the accomodations. Nevertheless, he doesn't want to look the fool, so he will follow Astrid and do as she does.