Ingvar The Stout AXE-AGE, SWORD-AGE Part VI 978 A.D. Kolberg, Germania .......... Astrid is mostly silent on the ride back to town, but as you approach the wooden palisade that passes for a wall, she slows down so you can draw even with her, and reaches out to clap you on the shoulder. "Hey, how about we go find a really good alehouse and drink it up? I'm buying." <><><><><> Ingvar: Having paid little attention to anything around him on the ride back, Ingvar fails to notice the gap between him and Astrid narrowing. Her voice and the hand on his shoulder startle him a bit. As the meaning of her words begins to seep into his consciousness, a smile - the first since leaving Istrid - dawns across his face. "Aye. *Spendid* idea. I could use a drink or three..." He begins to anticipate the taste of a cold brew sliding down his throat as they approach the palisade. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid cheerfully stables your horses, and then leads you to a somewhat "upscale" alehouse, where travelers and militiamen of a slightly more affluent nature hang out. As usual, quite a few heads turn to stare at the two of you when you enter. There is some muttering, Astrid gets her share of looks both lecherous and hostile, and men whisper to one another trying to identify you as well. The immortal woman seems quite inured to it by now. A publican approaches her indignantly, waving his hand at her and gesturing towards the door, rattling off imprecations in German, no doubt telling her that women aren't allowed in here. Astrid places her fists on her hips, and stands squarely facing him, looking down at him with a baleful glare. His invective tapers off, and he looks hesitant when she snaps something in reply. The other patrons are watching with interest. Astrid keeps talking, then smiles sweetly, the sort of smile you've come to recognize as being accompanied by some kind of threat. Sweat trickles down his face. Probably gauging the likely outcome if he tries to remove her by force. None of the other men seem inclined to offer support- they're too busy admiring her. Astrid reaches into her purse and hands the publican a large silver coin. He accepts it reluctantly, looks down at it, then throws his shoulders up and turns to go fetch some brew. Astrid beams and gestures to a clear spot at the end of one table for you two to sit. <><><><><> Ingvar: The stares and murmurs all around put Ingvar on edge as they enter the alehouse. Not surprisingly, the tension he feels increases as Astrid goes nose to nose with the proprietor. His fingers start to itch, but though he begins to imagine the feel of his sword's pommel in his hand, Ingvar manages to resist the urge to grab it. Then that little smile of Astrid's blooms on her face. The publican may not realize yet, but he has lost. Ingvar relaxes ever so slightly, though he knows problems could still erupt. Seeing the man slink off with the coin in hand, Ingvar moves to sit as indicated, a soft chuckle erupting from his mouth. When Astrid sits opposite him, Ingvar looks up at her with a grin. "I take it we're not much welcome here." <><><><><> [GM] "A foreigner and an armed woman, what do you think?" Astrid replies, with a grin that confirms your suspicion that she *likes* causing a stir. She holds up a mug. "You feel up to outdrinking me this time, farm-boy?" <><><><><> Ingvar: It's amazing how many *different* grins Astrid has, and how much she can convey with them. Still this one troubles him; this may not be the best place to start trouble. "Yeah. So women warriors are as unusual here as they are back home? Is that true everywhere, or are there places where it is thought to be normal?" This is a challange he *won't* pass up. "You better believe it, girlie!" Ingvar lifts his own flagon and proceeds to drain it as quickly as he can. <><><><><> [GM] "I've heard tales of women warriors, in far-away places or times long ago, but I've never actually seen a country where it was accepted as normal," Astrid says, a little regretfully. "It makes it hard for us female immortals. If we go armed, we attract attention, and if we don't, we're easy prey." She tosses back her first flagon. "So I go *heavily* armed, and stand ready to beat the snot out of anyone who gives me s*** about it!" Astrid has drunk you under the table before, and as you both down flagon after flagon, you begin to wonder how *any* woman can have this much tolerance for mead. Of course, you're putting down more than you could before you- died. Naturally the little contest, and your increasing intoxication, is attracting notice from other patrons. A couple of men are leaning close to your table, making sneering comments that you don't understand, but whose meaning you can still infer well enough. Another man descends heavily onto the bench next to Astrid, and begins addressing her in a too- familiar manner. <><><><><> Ingvar: "Heh heh. I'm sure you are!" Ingvar replies boisterously, already starting to feel the effects of the mead. Some while later, Ingvar is feeling wooly-headed, and almost doesn't notice the encroachment of the locals upon their table. On the other hand, Astrid is truly amazing; Ingvar has yet to figure out how to gauge just how sauced she is - probably because he is usually even worse off. The man plonking down next to Astrid is just a bit too much. Ingvar stares furiously at the upstart, waving his hand - which just happens to be holding his mug - in his direction. "Hey. Hey! Go way! This our table drinking." Having forgotten Astrid's earlier comments, Ingvar thus misses noting their likely prescience. <><><><><> [GM] The other man was moving to start pawing Astrid (a gesture he'd probably never have completed anyway) when your mug sloshes in his direction, splashing mead on him. He curses and stands up, snarling something at you. Astrid whirls, still seated, and drives her fist into his midsection. The man doubles over and sinks to the ground with a long, slow wheeze. The men next to you both ignore you and surge at Astrid, who stands with another one of her silly grins plastered all over her face. <><><><><> Ingvar: Seeing Astrid flatten the one guy, Ingvar starts to laugh, then notices the others lunging at her. Swearing mightily, he lurches somewhat unsteadily to his feet and swings one of his big fists at the nearest of the assailants. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid decks the next man with surprising strength and speed....surprising to him, anyway. He reels, and Astrid is already lashing out at the third man. Her fist slams against his jaw, eliciting a grunt as her foe's head snaps to the side. He's still up and getting ready to strike back, with the flat of his hand....until your fist smashes into the base of his skull. He cries out and tumbles forward, into Astrid, who curses and grabs him by the shoulders, staggers around in a half-circle as the stunned German's head is pressed against her chest, and then heaves him away from her, into the next table. When the man crashes against a trio of seated sailors, they rise with angry expletives and spin to glare at the warrior-woman. A woman as young-looking and pretty as Astrid could probably defuse such a situation, even at this point, with a disarming smile and something cute and contrite. Instead, Astrid glares at them and snaps words that, even in a foreign language and through her drink-slurred tongue and your drink-muffled ears, sound an awful lot like "What are you idiots staring at?" The first man she punched groans and rolls over, while the second stands again. <><><><><> Ingvar: Though Ingvar has learned to expect - and respect - Astrid's quickness, obviously this pitiful man wasn't prepared for it. The idea of *someone else* being on the receiving end for a change is quite... pleasing... to Ingvar. Then again, so is the feel of his own fist smashing into one of these wretches, and seeing him staggered by the blow. Gods! It has been a long while since Ingvar has known the pleasure of a tavern brawl! Excitement pushes away much of the effect of the mead as Ingvar quickly slips into the mood that always overtakes him in such situations. Things begin to heat up as the trio of sailors react to having their party disturbed. And Astrid's taunting doesn't help. Out of the corner of his eye, Ingvar notices one of her victims beginning to rise. Though he has never known her to be taken unawares, he isn't sure that she sees this guy, so intent is she on those before her. This looks like an opportunity to Ingvar. Stepping close, he grabs the man as he rises to his feet, and attempts to introduce the man to his knee... <><><><><> [GM] The man stumbles as you grab him, then doubles over when you knee him. Meanwhile, one of the sailors rises, growling something at Astrid and grabbing or pointing at her with his hand- you're not sure which. Either way, it's a mistake- she grabs his wrist and, holding him by his arm, kicks him in the gut. He chokes and spews whatever he just swallowed as he goes down, fish-eyed. The other two men jump at her, both colliding with the woman and causing all three to go down in a heap. You don't have to time to think about helping her, however, as something smashes against the back of your skull. You feel liquid running down your neck, and a sharp headache as you turn to see another cursing German holding a broken stein. <><><><><> Ingvar: His elation evaporates as Ingvar sees Astrid go down under the combined weight of two of the sailors. Then a stein crashes against the back of his head, sending waves of pain down his spine and out his eyeballs. Ingvar's vision wavers for a moment, even as he spins to confront his attacker. As his vision clears, he sees yet another of these foul 'Ger-mans' holding a broken stein. If the man's arm is still extended in his direction, then Ingvar tries to grab it. This is followed by an attempt to swing the man around 'slingshot- style' into the nearest wall or table. Otherwise, Ingvar puts his shoulder down and charges the man, hoping to bowl the fool over. <><><><><> [GM] You grab his arm, but before you can spin him around, he smashes his other fist into your face. These Germans don't punch nearly as hard as your neighbors back home. No, amend that, as you toss him back into a wall. Another German comes at you, and he's as big as you, and when his fist lands in your gut, you *feel* it. It's all you can do to stay on your feet, and meanwhile, the entire alehouse seems to be erupting into a mass melee. No big surprise. You can't see what's happening with Astrid, down on the ground with her two opponents, but you're outnumbered three to one, although one of the three yelps and curses as a thrown stool hits him from behind. <><><><><> Ingvar: The impact of the fist in his face causes Ingvar to blink, then a smile starts to spread across his face. These 'Ger-mans' are *weak* little men... A much harder fist smashing into his stomach causes Ingvar to grunt, as well as giving the lie to his thought of the moment before. The joy and ferocity burning in his breast prevent his knees from buckling. Ingvar hardly notices as the entire alehouse erupts in chaos, though he doesn't fail to notice the trio of men currently facing himself. This is certainly no time to be holding back! Ingvar bursts toward the big man, using every trick he knows and every part of his body that can be wielded as a weapon. However, this time he is careful not to forget the others... <><><><><> [GM] Astrid's tricks serve you well. It's hard to believe you'd never really thought of using your elbows as weapons before, but an elbow to the throat really takes the fight out of someone fast. Of course, if you get hit from behind again, you won't have much fight left either. The entire scene seems to dissolve into a blur of flailing bodies, hurtling objects, curses and screams, bones crunching beneath your fists, and occasional jarring impacts causing flashes of red in your vision, and a growing headache. When you finally get some breathing room, with three men lying in heaps around you, and blood running down your arm from a gash where something sharp stuck in your shoulder, and the taste of blood in your mouth from having your lips smashed against your teeth, you see Astrid struggling to her knees as well, still locked in a grappling match with another man. She suddenly snaps her head foreward, smacking their skulls together with an impact that almost gives *you* a headache. The man howls and lets go. Astrid grimaces and grabs his ear, and smashes his face into the floor, then staggers to her feet. Her forehead is bleeding, and she looks a little glassy-eyed. <><><><><> Ingvar: Surveying the scene before him, a grim, fierce smile stretches it's way across Ingvar's face. Except for seeing Istrid, this is the most fun he's had in a *long* time! His pleasure undimmed by the ache in his head and the huge bruise that is his body, Ingvar watches as Astrid deals with the last of her current assailants. It's not hard to tell that her pain is as great as hers, and neither will last much longer at the center of this storm. Glancing around to orient to the location of the door, Ingvar begins to move in that direction. "Astrid!" he calls out. "I think it's time to depart this place for our rest. C'mon!" Ingvar sweep his arm in a beckoning gesture, then continues on in the direction of the door, watching for further antagonists along the way. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid seems to debate the question for a moment, then nods dazedly. She almost trips over another combatant as she comes towards you, then swears as another man collides with her. He takes a swing at her, which she partially ducks, catching a glancing blow on the chin, and retaliates with a hard drive into his stomach. The two of you manage to emerge from the alehouse, but from within, there are a couple of angry shouts, and Astrid murmurs "S***! Some of these idiots....are persistant. 'Get the foreigners,' my ass." She chokes, spits a wad of blood, and after wiping her lips, grimaces in disgust. "Eeeeeeeeeewwwww! Gross!" <><><><><> Ingvar: The burly Swede heads out the door with Astrid at his heels. At her words, Ingvar looks back at the door to the alehouse to see if pursuit is materializing. Hardly noticing her bleeding mouth, or his own bloody shoulder, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a stumbling trot. "C'mon! I'm not ready to continue this tonight!" After a short run in a twisting path through town, Ingvar slows to check again for pursuers. If they seem safe, he heads toward their lodgings at a walk. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid comes staggering after you, muttering angrily in her native language. It sounds like cursing, but you can't be sure. She really does seem a little dazed, and keeps rubbing her head. She follows you after a moment, much more cooperatively than she's ever complied with any of your suggestions before. <><><><><> Ingvar: Once he is fairly certain that they are not being followed, Ingvar pays more attention to Astrid's condition. He quickly starts to become seriously concerned. While he knows that she is 'one of them', he has never seen her behave this way, which seems to indicate a *real* problem. Slowing down, he guides her gently toward their lodgings. As he walks, he talks quietly to his 'mentor'. "Astrid? How you doing? Let's get back to our rooms and get a good night's sleep. I'm sure you'll feel much better in the morning..." If they reach their lodgings without incident and Astrid is still acting strange, Ingvar will stop to inspect her, especially her head, for injuries before putting her to bed. With a gentleness usually reserved for his family, he will tuck her in and then retire to his own room. <><><><><> [GM] "Mmm fine," Astrid mutters. By the time you get back to your lodgings, she's much better. The blonde Viking-wannabe shakes her head and sighs. "By God, that blow really rattled my skull! Remind me never to do that during a duel." She grins. "I hope the other guy felt it worse." She nods to you, and strides off to her own lodgings. <><><><><> Ingvar: Encouraged by Astrid's improving condition, Ingvar can only shake his head as she talks about her strange tactic. "Yeah, no kidding. That seems like a pretty questionable tactic, *especially* if your head isn't as hard as *mine*..." Ingvar's voice trails off into a good natured chuckle. As she turns to leave, Ingvar muses pleasantly. "That was *some* brawl we had back there. *Lots* of fun! Perhaps we'll get a chance to do it again some day... Anyway, see you in the morning." Turning, he heads off towards his own bed. After putting away his gear, Ingvar undresses and climbs into bed. He lays there for some time, staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts wander from the bar fight to his earlier meeting with Istrid to questions about the future of his family. When sleep finally takes him, it is with visions of Helgi and Istrid and Hammar floating through his mind's eye. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid smiles, obviously she enjoyed the fight also. Of course, the fact that all the cuts and bruises you'd normally be carrying have already vanished, and that you won't wake up a mass of aching muscles tomorrow, makes a barroom brawl a much more pleasant activity, really. You sleep late, and apparently so does Astrid, as you don't sense the Quickening until later that day. She arrives at your inn in no particular hurry, and asks if you're ready to go stake out Harnut's home again for the evening. <><><><><> Ingvar: Having never been one to lay around in bed all day, Ingvar is up and paying some attention to his armor and weapons when Astrid arrives. Her Quickening actually catches him a bit by suprise as she approaches, as he was concentrating on getting a particular nick in his sword worked out. Jumping abruptly to his feet, Ingvar peeks out the door to make sure it is her as she gets close. While he is fairly certain that it is, Astrid has taught him not to take *anything* for granted. "Aye, Astrid, I am. We might want to pack some food, though. It's likely to be a long wait. Speaking of which, have you broken your fast yet?" <><><><><> [GM] Astrid yawns and stretches. She really looks good doing that. If you're not careful, you're going to stop seeing her as an elder immortal who can and will beat you to a pulp....she still looks and acts more like a beautiful, somewhat daft girl! "I've eaten," she nods. "But we should pack some food. And I'm going to buy a couple of blankets, to sit on. And a new fur coat, because I was shivering last night. Hmmph! Oh, we might as well buy some new outfits while we're at the market." With that, she leads you off on another one of her shopping sprees, buying things she doesn't seem to need at all. Does she actually change clothes every day?! <><><><><> Ingvar: Ingvar watches Astrid's movements with some pleasure. He has always been aware of her beauty and femaleness, and isn't particularly bothered by the thought of her beating the snot out of him. It would certainly be worth it if she were likely to reward him with some of her affections. However, one thing he learned growing up is that women like her were *never* interested in men like himself, at least not in *that* way. While Helgi and Sigtrigg were both good women, neither was likely to engender any legends regarding their beauty. Yet he loved them just the same. Astrid's sudden urge catches Ingvar a bit by surprise, though he really *should* know better by now. "*More* new clothes?! *Gods*, woman, whatever would we *do* with them..?" Despite his words, Ingvar knows that it is futile to resist, so he follows docilely in her wake as she heads off to plunder the market district of this town. <><><><><> [GM] After another pointless (so far as you can tell) shopping trip, you and Astrid ride back up the road, to the bluff where Harnut's house stands. This time better-prepared, Astrid settles down on a blanket in the woods across the field from the house, as the sun begins dipping below the treetops. You hear the cry of wolves not far away. The creatures are more plentiful here than back in Sweden, and you notice that Antonella involuntarily starts and looks around, before relaxing again. Surely an immortal has nothing to fear from mere wolves...but perhaps old superstitions and mortal fears are hard to overcome, even after centuries. She pulls out something else you didn't think to bring; a flask of strong spirits. "This'll keep us warm," she says cheerfully. "But you can't drink too much- you want to be nice and clearheaded if your wife comes. And don't you dare backwash into my flask or I'll break it over your thick skull!" Backwash! You'd think she considers you uncouth or something.... <><><><><> Ingvar: After tying off his horse, Ingvar moves over and plops down next to Astrid on the blanket. The wolves' howl sends a shiver of memory down his spine; he can almost *feel* those two big dogs ripping and tearing at him on that cold winter night these few months ago. A moment or three later, Ingvar remembers where he is and attempts to smile at the woman who sits so close by. The appearance of the flask drives the echos of those memories from his head and his smile becomes more genuine. He even ignores her remarks upon his manners. "Warm indeed!... Well, ok, I won't drink so much as I would like *this* time. It wouldn't do to be drunk should Helgi show up, though I fear that's unlikely." <><><><><> [GM] "Be optimistic, farmmboy," Astrid says as she hands you the flask, and somehow you don't sense any mockery in the term this time. "How much nerve does your wife have? Mortals tend to be curious. Unless her fright is just too great, she'll surely have to see you or disprove her daughter's story with her own eyes. I think she'll come. Whether you can convince her to leave with you is another story. And of course, if she's willing, we then have the problem of taking a woman and two children all the way back to Sweden...which will technically be stealing property from Harnut." <><><><><> Ingvar: Ingvar reguards the younger, yet far older, woman as he considers her questions. "Helgi is certainly a strong woman, as are most who grow up in our northern clime. Yet she has a healthy apprehension where anything that seems 'unnatural' is concerned. I hope that you are right; maybe curiosity will be sufficient to bring her out..." A few more moments thought, then Ingvar addresses Astrid's other concern. "Going back to Gotaland may not be a good idea. Having killed as many of the Firehair clan - as much as the dogs deserved it - will have set the Thing against me. And that may not be sufficient to prevent retaliation from whoever may be left. Also, many there will know of my death and question my appearance too closely. If we return, it will have to be to a location far removed from our previous homes; perhaps somewhere in the far south of the land, or well to the north of even Birka. I have actually been thinking of going somewhere completely different. I have heard that my people have set up a trading center in this new place called Novgorod. It may be the best opportunity to start my family's life all over again." <><><><><> [GM] Astrid nods. "Going somewhere else is probably a good idea." She frowns, and sighs, as she lies back on the blanket. "But think twice about taking your family with you to any heavily populated area with a lot of visitors, like Novgorod. That's just the sort of place that immortals pass through fairly often. If you want them to have any kind of safety- never mind your own- you're better off taking them somewhere remote and isolated." <><><><><> Ingvar: Concern creases Ingvar's features. "Oh. Yeah. I see what you mean." Obviously, he needs to think about this some more. "Ok. The most isolated place I know of that is likely to speak my tongue would probably be Norrland. Vast expanses of wilderness along the coast north of Uppland and Svealand inhabited mostly by fur-trappers. Even *they* are likely to have some use for a skilled woodworker. Couldn't hurt me to learn to hunt, either." <><><><><> [GM] Astrid nods, lying on her back and staring up at the stars. She doesn't seem to be paying that much attention to your musings. She does comment, "Just make sure, if you're going to try to hold onto your mortal kin, that you're doing it for their sake, and not to assuage your *own* guilt. It may be painful to abandon them, and you may feel rotten, but it's usually better in the long run." She sighs. "But not always. And I'm not one to talk. I was a little....rash, when I was younger." <><><><><> Ingvar: The liquid spirits are just starting to relax the burly Swede when Astrid manages to say something *really strange* yet again. Ingvar sputters a moment, then manages to reply, his tone a mixture of confusion, anger, and surprise. "Guilt?! *What* guilt? How do you figure that I've done anything to feel *guilty* about? And I'm certainly *not* going to abandon my family - I'm trying to keep us together because that's what being a family is about! As I've said before, if Helgi thinks they are better off without me, then she has the right to make that decision. If not, then I will do everything in my power to make sure that we *stay* a family." Just then, a thought strikes him. Ingvar's tone moderates drastically as he broaches the next subject. "You know, I've never been much good at lying, especially to my wives. If Helgi shows up, the only way I'm going to be able to explain being alive is to tell her the truth..." <><><><><> [GM] "I didn't mean you did anything wrong...." Astrid's voice trails off and she just waves her hand dismissively, her expression one of bored frustration. Now and then she turns mildly introspective, but she has little patience trying to explain her point of view to you. She nods when you bring up explaining things to Helgi. "You'd have to tell her the truth eventually anyway. She's bound to notice you're not getting any older, and that all your cuts and bruises heal too quickly." <><><><><> Ingvar: "Yeah," he replies heavily, "it'd be damn hard to hide it for very long. It would probably be a good idea when I explain things to ask her not to tell anyone else, no matter what she decides." Ingvar has another pull at his drink and sits quietly, thinking and waiting. <><><><><> [GM] The night grows colder, and darker. The moon is now waning, but still nearly full. However, clouds are obscuring its face, and they look as if they might dump rain on you before the night is over. Astrid eventually falls asleep, not torn by the same anxieties and uncertainties as you. She is, as usual, quite beautiful in slumber, and has a touch of innocence in her youthful features that's usually not so apparent when she's awake and treating you and the rest of the world to her sharp tongue. Given what she's told you about other immortals, she must trust you a fair bit to fall asleep in your presence. Though you note that her hand rests on her swordhilt as she sleeps. You find that while thinking and worrying, you've been watching her chest rise and fall, and certainly there isn't much else around that's more worth watching, but a bit of self-consciousness (or the thought of what she'd say if she caught you- you know by now she wouldn't really be offended, but she'd certainly *say* something that would make you feel like a blushing youth caught staring at his sister) makes you jerk your gaze away for a moment, to look across the field again, and you see someone approaching from the house, swaddled in a blanket and picking steps slowly and carefully in the darkness. <><><><><> Ingvar: Gazing at her sleeping form, Ingvar is struck yet again by the way in which Astrid reminds him of a young girl, and yet at the same time is anything but. Eventually, it occurs to him that if he has anything to feel guilty for, as she had suggested earlier, then it is the manner in which he is eyeing her, while waiting for his wife. Jerking his gaze away, this feeling is heightened as he spots the approaching figure. Anxiety and nervousness swarm through him as he stands to meet one he has searched for for so long. Closing his eyes for a second, he whispers a quick prayer, "Tyr! If their be any justice in this world, let this be Helgi my wife." Opening his eyes, he moves into the light as before to await her arrival. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid stirs, then sits up immediately as you rise. She doesn't say anything, or follow you, as you walk out of the trees, to meet your wife. As she comes closer, it's clear that it is Helgi. Her walk and her silhouette becomes painfully familiar, until she is close enough you can make out her face...and she yours. She seemed to have been bracing herself for whatever apparition she might find out here, but even so she staggers and nearly falls when she sees you, and her face, pale in the moonlight, seems to go paler. "Ingvar," she croaks, from a distance of about ten paces, and can't say anything more, or move from where she stands. <><><><><> Ingvar: Recognising Helgi as she moves closer, Ingvar's heart begins to pound thunderously in his chest, his palms sweat and itch. Then she staggers at the sight of him, and Ingvar starts to lunge forward, shouting "Helgi!" But the look of trepidation in her eyes pulls him up short and not wanting to frighten his wife, he forces himself to stop after just one step. Anxiety and joy war across Ingvar's features. "Helgi, my flower, are you ill?!" Helgi had always been the prettier of his wives, though he had never let on to either one. <><><><><> [GM] "Ill?" she stammers, with a rising voice tinged with fear. "No, I'm not ill, unless I am mad, to see my dead husband appear out of the woods on a foreign shore!" She clutches a hand to her chest. "Why do you haunt my daughter and I, husband? It's not my fault I couldn't give you a proper burial!" She chokes. "Go haunt Ole Firehair's clan, they're the ones who consigned you to wander Midgard as a shade!" <><><><><> Ingvar: Something in Helgi's statement causes fear to gnaw at Ingvar's breast, but he has trouble identifying exactly what. "You are not mad, wife, and I am no shade. I know it seems impossible, but I am *alive*. Come, touch my hand - you will see that I am no ghost and my skin is warm and alive." Ingvar holds out his right hand towards her, palm down. "If you will give me time, I will explain how this is, though it may be hard to believe - it was for me." A grim smile comes to Ingvar's lips. "As for 'haunting' the Firehairs, I already have. I slew Ole, Bengt, and Hakon - and maybe Gris, as well - before coming in search of my family. Along the way-" Finally, the knot of dread resolves itself: Helgi hadn't mentioned Hammar! "Wait. You didn't mention *Hammar* - is he *here*?! Is Hammar *alright*?!" <><><><><> [GM] Helgi takes a step back as you hold out your hand. "Explain how this can be from there, then, if you please." She clutches the shawl she threw around her shoulders. She blinks at your second question, and then answers slowly, "Hammar is fine.....he's not here....Harnut fostered him out." Her fingers clutch tightly at the shawl, and her voice wavers. "'Fostered'....*sold*, more like it." <><><><><> Ingvar: At Helgi's refusal to come near him, disappointment tears at Ingvar's heart, but he understands her reluctance. With a heavy sigh, he seats himself upon the ground. "This may take some time..." Anger rises, totally overwhelming his sadness when Helgi tells him of Hammar's fate. A low growl, on that Helgi has heard some few times before, rises in his throat. "He *sold* Hammar?! That son of a troll! If we are to be a family again, we shall have to find him again." Ingvar is torn between a need for vengeance, and the understanding that this is how it has always been for slaves - how he is coming to *hate* that word! There is nothing he can do about that right now. All of his hopes and dreams hinge on him convincing Helgi right now to accept him as he is and agree to leave here as a family. Ingvar takes another deep breath to settle himself. "There is one thing I must ask of you, my wife. No matter what you decide about whether to come with me or not, I need to ask that you promise never to repeat what I am going to tell you to anyone. Ok?" Ingvar looks up at his wife with a pleading look in his eyes. <><><><><> [GM] "Be a family again....." Helgi repeats slowly, voice tinged with disbelief. She stares at you, fingers still playing restlessly with her shawl. "I suspect what you're going to tell me, no one else would believe anyway," she says, not adding that she clearly is prepared to disbelieve whatever it is herself. <><><><><> Ingvar: Seeing the disbelief already settling into Helgi's eyes, Ingvar begins to realise that he's fighting a losing battle here. The chances of success really are minimal, but he *has* to try anyway. "Very well, Helgi. Here is what I have learned. Every once in a great while, a person - be it man or woman - is touched by the gods. However, instead of becoming mad, this gift - or curse, or whatever it may be - doesn't show up until they die. When they die, they don't stay dead. They become one of a very special group of people who live all over the world." As he talks, Ingvar watches Helgi's face to see if there is any sign of her disbelief wavering. "This is what has happened to me; I have become 'immortal', as they call it. We don't look, feel, or think differently than anyone else. We just can't die; we never age, and cannot be killed by any normal method. It is said that some immortals are thousands of years old. There is only one way we can truly die, and that is what defines our life from that point on. When one of us manages to kill another, then they absorb everything that that person was; everything that they knew, everything that they cared about, all of the skills they had learned. For this reason, some of 'us' become hunters. These 'hunters' spend their time seeking others of our kind to kill them and take their energy. That is why whenever a new 'immortal' appears, any decent older immortal will teach them what they are and how to survive. Otherwise, they would be but sheep for the slaughter." "I know that this is very confusing and hard to believe. I don't explain it very well and have little evidence to show you. Maybe I can answer some questions, instead of just rambling on..." <><><><><> [GM] "Wait...wait a minute!" Helgi exclaims. "Immortal? You're a....some kind of supernatural creature? Or offspring of the gods? You have been, all this time?" Disbelief continues to cloud her features, and her voice continues to rise, edging into near-hysteria. <><><><><> Ingvar: The rising fear in Helgi's voice begins to alarm Ingvar. "*Please*, Helgi, you've known me too long to fear me now. I promise, if you can't bring yourself to accept what I have become, I won't ever bother you again. Please let us just talk for now." "'Immortal' is a name that has been given to us, though I don't know where the name came from. It does define the one thing that is different about us. I don't know whether it makes us 'supernatural', or like the gods, or not. As far as I know, it is the only thing that makes us different; we don't age, and we can't die. Otherwise, we have no godlike powers. We are just like everyone else; we feel pain, and even bleed the same red blood when cut. If it will help, I'll show you." "Whether I have been 'different' all this time, I just don't know. If I was, I certainly didn't know it at the time. I've heard that sometimes those who are already immortal from having died their first death can sense those who will become immortal when *they* die. I don't know if this is true or not." Ingvar feels a headache coming on from the strain of trying to explain himself to Helgi and reigning in his emotions so that he can try to make her understand that we he so poorly understands himself. With a sigh of exasperation, he looks over towards his mentor. "Astrid? Can you explain this any better than I? I just don't know what to say anymore." <><><><><> [GM] "Oh, sure, leave it up to me," Astrid says, with a huff. Helgi nearly jumps back another step. "Who's that?" she demands. Astrid comes up alongside you. You can see your wife's eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes the other woman, what little she can see of her in the darkness. "Ingvar's already told you everything he can about what he is," Astrid says. Her voice, you note with some surprise, is a little more girlish than usual, as if she was indeed as young as she appears, and short on patience. "Now, *I've* been following him around, from Birka to here, and I suppose I'm going to have to keep following him looking for his son." Astrid tosses her hair disdainfully. "All he ever talks about is how he has to get his family back, how he has to convince you to return home, how he misses his children. Honestly! I've never met such a single-minded oaf!" "Who *are* you?!" Helgi demands again, this time sounding more irritated than frightened. "*I* am Astrid the Fair," your mentor says, drawing herself to her full height and speaking in an incredibly haughty tone. "I've been teaching Ingvar all kinds of things, and I'm about out of patience with sitting around in the woods so he can get a chance to talk to *you*. God knows why." Helgi sputters. Astrid says "Ingvar, when you're done talking to *her*, I'll be waiting by the road." She sounds almost seductive, speaking to you in a tone she's *never* used with you before. Then she turns on her heel and walks back through the woods. You'd been hoping she'd help explain things to your wife, instead she seems to have left a great deal more for you to explain. Helgi is still fuming so badly she hasn't summoned any more words yet. <><><><><> Ingvar: "But... What... Wait..." Ingvar sputters as Astrid sinks him in deep with his wife. This doesn't make any sense to him; up until now, Astrid has helped him in many ways - why has she turned on him *now*? Even *he* can see the look on Helgi's face. Ingvar turns back to face Helgi. "Helgi. It's not what you may be thinking. Rememer, I told you that older immortals teach new ones? Astrid found me in Birka when I was trying to find you. She has been teaching me what I am and how to fight. She might not look it, but she's over *100* years old! And she's a better fighter than most warriors. I... She..." Ingvar starts to stammer again as frustration begins to overwhelm him. "I just want to be with you and the kids again. That's all." <><><><><> [GM] "A hundred years old!?" Helgi exclaims. She sounds disbelieving, and quite irate now. "So how is it you came to meet that....*woman*?" she demands. <><><><><> Ingvar: This *isn't* how he had imagined that this would go! Sadness seeps into Ingvar's heart as he begins to realise that there is little chance that they will *ever* be a family again. A mixture of tiredness, sadness, and a bit of anger creeps into his voice. "I just told you, *she* found *me*. The Firehairs told me about selling you and the kids. They said that the merchant was likely to travel to Birka, so that's where I went. I spent a lot of time asking around town about the merchant and trying to find someone that might have seen you pass through. One day, Astrid came into Birka by ship. She recognised what I was immediately, and decided to train me. I talked her into helping me look for you and the kids. Eventually, we found you here." <><><><><> [GM] Helgi is silent for a while. She stares at the ground, and when she speaks again, does not raise her head to look at you. "So what exactly do you have in mind to do?" she asks. "Take Istrid and I away from here? Harnut will not simply let us go, you know. And if we do escape, what then? You are....immortal. I am not, nor is our daughter. What kind of life could we have?" <><><><><> Ingvar: Helgi's expression convinces Ingvar that this situation is just as hard on his wife as it is on him. Taking a moment to force himself to calm down, he pauses before responding. "Yes, I am hoping to take you away from here. I already know that Harnut isn't going to agree to it since we already asked him, and he claimed he didn't know anything about you. However, I *wasn't* planning on asking; we would have to sneak you out in the middle of the night and run away. I don't doubt that we could get away. However, we would have to decide whether to try to find Hammar as well." "I know you're not immortal like me, and some day I'll have to watch you grow old and die. *Not* something that sounds much fun, but not being with you is even *less* pleasant. Question is: can *you* handle living with someone who doesn't grow old? Istrid will eventually grow up, get married, and move on. Other than that, I think our life will be much like it was before. Is that really worse than being a *slave*? Is *Istrid* better off growing up as a slave? She claims to *hate* it here." <><><><><> [GM] "I don't know, Ingvar.....I don't know!" Helgi almost moans, when you ask whether she can stand to live with an immortal husband. But her head bows when you inquire about Istrid. "No," she says softly. "Istrid is not better off here. I....I've done everything I can, to keep Harnut away from her....but I can't much longer." She looks up at you, with an expression that would be much more painful to see if it weren't mostly hidden by the darkness. "Istrid will not be able to stand it here. I will do whatever you say, if only it will mean getting Istrid away from here." <><><><><> Ingvar: Though he can't see her well in this half-light, Ingvar can hear the pain in her voice. In his heart, he damns the gods that have put him in the position of contributing to his wife's pain. His own hurt is increased by her admission that she cannot be sure whether she can accept him now, but that is nothing to the shock and rage induced by her following comments. "*Thor's stones*!!!" he cries. "I should *kill* that spawn of rats!" Leaping to his feet, Ingvar stomps and fumes for a few moments, then some clarity and calm returns to his eyes. "But that wouldn't help *you*, would it?" he asks, rhetorically. Ingvar can hear the hopelessness and surrender in Helgi's voice as she admits that Istrid must leave. He puts his head in his hands for several minutes and thinks deeply, questing for a solution to all this. Finally, he looks up at Helgi, determination in his face. "Alright. This is what we shall do. If Astrid is willing to help, I will go and look for Hammar. Then, whether we find him or not, I will return for you and Istrid. During that time I want you to gather your things quietly and prepare to travel. We will leave this land, and I will find you a place to live, probably in Uppland or Norland. You have until then to decide whether you want to continue as my wife or seek your own life. Are you willing to follow me in this?" <><><><><> [GM] "Calm down, husband!" Helgi snaps, in an almost familiar tone. The tone she's used in the past, when you let your temper get the better of your sense. She was always the sensible one. So pragmatic, if she was a man she'd be called ruthless. More wearily, she says "He hasn't touched her *yet*. But Istrid is becoming a young woman, you know, and these Germans consider girls...mature, much earlier than we do. And I think Harnut has a particular fondness for young girls...." her voice trails off. Istrid is only nine. Germans might marry their women off at a younger age than the Norse, but it's hard to imagine any decent person considering a nine-year old suitable for bedding. Helgi can't be as sanguine about Harnut's predilictions as she pretends. But she's the one who has to live with him. She looks at you sharply again when you mention Astrid. "She certainly didn't seem very *helpful*," Helgi comments dryly. "Very well. Find Hammar if you can. When you return, we will be ready." <><><><><> Ingvar: At least she still calls him 'husband'. Ingvar decides to take that as a hopeful sign. Helgi's assurances regarding Istrid only soothe him slightly. Ingvar clamps down a response to Helgi's comment about Astrid. Instead, he continues his plans. "Hmm..." he looks down and around for a moment. Gesturing towards his pants, "I will hang a strip of this from the eaves of the barn when I return. I will then spend the next three nights here under this tree waiting for you." A moment's pause and then, "Do you know anything about where Hammar was sent or who he was sold to?" <><><><><> [GM] "He was....squired, to a poor knight traveling west," Helgi says. "I think Harnut wanted to get Hammar out of the house, no eagerness there for another man's son living under his roof. Being squired to a knight was a better fate than others he could have arranged. The knight's name was Merick. I believe he was heading towards Saxony." Helgi sighs again wearily. "Harnut was supposed to be free when he reaches the age of manhood, but I had little hope of ever seeing him again." <><><><><> Ingvar: Well, this was better news than he had expected. "Squire, huh? My boy will learn to be a warrior... If the man treats him well, it's not a bad life for Hammar. He might even decide he *likes* it. Merick... I shall talk with him and Hammar if I find them. If this knight is honorable, Hammar might even want to stay with him. We shall see. I know you are tired and need to get back inside, so just one more question: about how long ago did Hammar and Marick leave?" <><><><><> [GM] "About a week," Helgi answers dully. <><><><><> Ingvar: It's apparent that Helgi is about to drop from fatigue and the strain of this night. Speaking softly, Ingvar gestures back towards the house. "Thank you, my flower. Get some rest. I will see you as soon as may be." He stands quietly to watch his wife return to Harnut's home. In his heart, he vows that it will only be for a little while. Once Helgi has made it inside, Ingvar heads off to find Astrid. <><><><><> [GM] Astrid is waiting by your horses. "Well," she says cheerfully. "How did it go?" <><><><><> Ingvar: The stocky Northerner can't match Astrid's mood. "Let's head back," is his only reply. Mounting his horse, he rides slowly and quietly, thoughts whorling through his head. As they start to draw closer to town, Ingvar finally speaks up, his voice flat and tired. "Helgi agreed that it is necessary to get Istrid away from Harnut. I told her I would take her and Istrid back home and find them a place to live. Then she can decide whether I can stay or not. While she prepares to leave, I told her I would search for Hammar. He was sold about a week ago to a poor knight as a squire. The knight's name is Merick and he is probably heading toward Saxony. Will you help me seek him out?" <><><><><> [GM] "A knight named Merick, heading for Saxony. Well, that's helpful," Astrid says, blowing a lock of hair off her forehead. "Oh, very well. I suppose a detour of another month doesn't make much difference." Astrid rides ahead a little. "I can see why you're so desperate to get your wife back, Ingvar....what would you ever do without a woman to take care of you?" Her teasing laughter, probably intended to be light-hearted, does little to lift your spirits. Down deep, Astrid seems to be well-intentioned, but she certainly has little real appreciation for others' suffering. <><><><><> Ingvar: Astrid's insensitivity no longer surprises Ingvar, so he just waits for her to finish. "Thank you," he mumbles. "I want to leave tomorrow." Knowing that he will need rest for the travels ahead, Ingvar is eager to get to bed, and will head there as soon as possible.