Raidho: The Journey

[Maid of Marvels]

http://www.bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/dragonship.jpg​

Are you man or woman enough to join Thrudd on her journey? There is no way of knowing what wonders will stumbled upon or what terrors will befall this band of adventurers as they sail off into the sunset.

Expect a mixture of Norse myth and legend combined with some good-natured raping and pillaging (wink, wink - nudge, nudge I'm only kidding about the raping bit) along the way. In other words, just about anything goes, but we'd like to keep it in the 'times'.

All that's required is a sense of humor and the desire to have fun. Everything else (and a portion of the booty) will be provided to all comers.

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Please introduce your character (and wait for approval) or carry on any discussion here: OOC & Casting Call: Fantasy Adventure

 

[Maid of Marvels]

The Map - created by MaiusImperium

http://www.bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/VoyageMap.jpg​

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

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The long road into Skjullhofud was strewn with the first inklings of spring, the snow giving way to thick mud. The hoar frost had surrendered to morning dew in some places and greenery was becoming more prominent. The growing season would soon be here for those rich enough to farm on their own land or that of a blooded Jarl.

The way was easy, even in the wet, cool spring. In the distance, the tiny village could be seen as a collection of burning chimneys belching thick, black smoke into the gray sky. She could hear the whinnies and nickering of horses and the deep lowing of cattle.

As the sun began to set, she could already hear the patrons of the Bloodsong beginning to celebrate nightfall. Someday, with luck, they would be in Valhalla. Seated with the Allfod; fighting by day, feasting by night. Such was the wish of every Northman.

Thrudd Thorsdottir pulled her fur lined cloak closer, guarding herself more from visions of what she knew was soon to pass rather than from the brisk salt breeze that blew in from the sea. She had been down to the promontory looking for the Jarl, Magnus Jarnulf.

They had argued long and hard, but in the end the Jarl had conceded to the godha's request. "You may have the dragon ship Skidbladnir if you can find the wolves to man it." She had smiled in that irritating way of hers and nodded knowingly before leaving him to stew.

It was a good vessel, clinker-built, with an eighteen inch draft. She was sleek, fast and highly maneuverable and could hold sixty men and their gear. The Bloodsong was a notorious haven for brigands, warriors and seamen. Thrudd would have no trouble manning the crew.

She had cast raidho. A journey. And a journey she would take.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

http://www.bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/F55L.jpg​

Thrudd had intended to slip quietly into the Blood Song, but news of her intended voyage had preceded her as did word of anyone going to sea. Men and women both thronged around the siarkhona, the light from rush torches and the hearthfire illuminating her face as they boasted of previous expeditions in order to attract her attention, horns and cups of drink in hand.

Sipping at a horn of mead, she sat back, nodding and listening, her sharp eyes scanning the faces of the story tellers as they spoke, each in turn. By the time she would make her choices, the moon will have both risen and set again.

Thinking to halt a second and quite possibly a fifth telling of Klaufi the Berserker's uncommon attributes, Thrudd held up her hand. "Yes, yes, I heard you the first time."

She didn't realize her mistake until it was too late, but by then another had approached her -- the one called Bearkiller. "We would be greatly honored, Danic," she said. "We sail at cock's crow." Truth was, she had chosen him prior to her discussion with the Jarl. Danic would captain the Skidbladnir and command the vikverjar.

Nodding her head, she tried to surreptitiously retrieve her hand from Klaufi's mouth. She didn't want to seem rude, but he was nibbling her fingers as if they were a prelude to an even tastier meal. It was worse than trying to wrestle a bone from a dog and Thrudd had had enough.

Forming a small O with her index finger and thumb, she stared Klaufi Snorrason down and thwapped him right on the tip of his bright red nose. The Godha smiled as he yelped and she took the brief respite to reclaim her finger from the Berserker's mouth.

"...Care to bring another wench along?" Swearing under her breath at the sight of two broken nails, Thrudd realized that she had barely heard a word spoken by the woman now standing in front of her. She squinted at her and arched an eyebrow.

"Aren't you One-Eyed Hildegard's daughter?" The woman nodded. "She could sling a mean mace... Til the day the end broke off and... Well, you now know how she came to be called 'One-Eyed' Hildegard. We sail at cock's crow."

Wondering if there were any others interested in joining the band of sea wolves she'd already garnered, Thrudd looked around the tavern. They still needed a smith to repair and forge new weapons and none had been forthcoming. Perhaps she should leave the disposition of tasks in Danic's hands. Thrudd chuckled.

Her horn refilled, Thrudd's eyes passed and then came back to two men speaking to One-Eyed Hildegard herself. What ever was that old hag up to?

 

[DRxBlue]

Starkynd arrives

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Just approaching 1000 years of age, Starkynd had grown up in Greece. He spent his formative years (his 20's and 30's) in the Roman Empire as a scholar and student of magic.

It was there that he learned of the medicines which would prolong his life. Little did he know that long life means protracted periods of intense boredom.

He was a musician at heart and soon became the doctor and entertainer on many a sea voyage. How he ended up in Skjullhofud was a long and tortuous tale...but it wasn't boring.

The word was out that a great ship was about to go on a tremendous voyage. Hearing that Thrudd, a formidable Godha and adventuress was in charge of the radho, he knew that he could find a berth on the Skidbladnir.

He stepped into the Bloodsong to find much commotion. He wasn't tall, but his black wool cape and shouder length auburn hair caused a chill to set over the crowd. A flute seemed to magically appear in his fingers and he soon had the whole room swaying to his music. Except for Thrudd.

She gazed upon him with equal parts of interest and disdain.

"She ain't buying it" Starkynd mused, with flop sweat brimming at his brow. "I'll need stronger spells to enchant her."

He wandered to the bar and "whistled up" a horn of mead then closed his musical program with a merry tune, which stopped the fighting that had been going on.

"I'll get close to her soon and get on that ship" he thought as he filled a wooden "pipe" full of "medicinal herbs" and lit it with a flame from his thumb.

"Every ship needs a Doctor...and an entertainer... and a fire starter... by hook or by crook, I shall join this voyage"

 

[clan_destine]

Fergus Frostreaver

The stillness of the day was broken by the rapid muttering of a gravel voice, and the faint flopping of loose leather. From the far side of a hill, the sounds got louder, then the hilltop was crested by a grumbling dwarf, his helmet pulled down to shade his face as he powered along.

Fergus had been having a run of poor luck lately. He had left Dwarrowknell at the holiest night of his people - the winter solstice, when the powers of the ice were at their height. Unfortunately, less than a week later, his party had run afoul of a group of ice trolls, and he had been forced to proceed on his own. His map had blown away in the night winds, his ship had run aground far from an actual harbor, and he'd been forced to fight and barter his way across lands strange to him. If it hadn't have been for the strength of his arms and the surprise meeting with a family of large bears, he'd have had nothing to trade at the last town for transport to the vicinity of a community likely to have use of him.

He'd run through his provisions some time ago, as well as the last of his valuables that he could afford to trade. His pack now carried little except his spare clothes, his bedroll, his butchering kit, and his faithful hammer - Rimesmasher . His shield was lashed to his pack, and his other weapon, an axe the color of fresh frost, was tied to his chest.

He hoped that the village ahead - what had they called it? Oh, yes - Skjullhofud - would have something to offer for one of his kind. As with his race, he was stocky, strong, unconcerned with most magics, and familiar with the secret ways of the winter and ice. Surely, someone would have use for his skills.

The thought caused him to propel himself along at a faster pace.

 

[Safefunguy]

Aernstynjung - the God of Accountants and Questionable Tax Shelters


Aernstynjung stumbled and mumbled his way through the melting drifts and slushy mud as if he were a mere mortal like those whose stench marked the approach to Skjullhofud as yet another haven for the unwashed, ill mannered, superstitious and ignorant.

Immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be; neither is being a minor deity.

Born the 842nd son of the Thunder God doesn't bestow one with many perks. The Aesir had to let him join the family business and he realized he had to start somewhere, but come on, being named the God of Accountants* and Questionable Tax Shelters doesn't come with any invincible weapons, flaming chariots or six hoofed demon spawned horses. It didn't rate for much for picking up lusty Valkyries either.

* Accountant meaning also embezzlers, smugglers, forgers, and white collar criminals.

Perhaps not a weapon in the physical sense, the contents of his general ledger contain the balance of more than just business pursuits. Each being holds a page in his ledger. Their deeds he can add up on his abacus to determine the balance of their souls. He does not know all... but he does know where to look it up. No one can dispute what is in the official record... its not like any mistakes are ever made in the initial recordings.

Not even a decent animal companion to wander the world beside him. No giant ravens or panthers or bears for this young godling. No such luck for Aernst, whose only companion was an ancient snapping turtle named Hrbloch, currently huddled inside Aernst's cloak.

Aernst thought that Hrbloch was really not a bad sort when it came to evaluating a scheme's potential for profit, even if he did tend to get a bit preachy from time to time as most grouchy old reptiles seem to do. He figured it must come from being a cold blooded creature cursed with an immortal existence in a frigid climate.

Aernst was not completely without skills and powers. He did have the amazing ability to convert coinage to any currency in the world instantly, the ability to strike phenomenal trades and prepare government forms with ease. There were no civil servants who could match his duplicity or skill in tackling a bureaucracy.

Toss in an immunity to any non magical weapon or other physical damage, heightened senses and a raging desire to take the easy, if not always ethical way out of things and he could be quite formidable in many arenas, especially business and government. He could bend laws, rules, and regulations to within the merest fraction of breaking; offering convincing arguments that so far were only matched by his distant cousin and eternal nemesis Eyaruss, the Goddess of Tax Collectors.

Aernstynjung seeks to protect his followers from Eyaruss's devotees, collectively known as the Khon Gruss. The Khon Gruss supply local ruling authorities with more and more bizarre ways to govern commerce, preaching a doctrine of fiscal relevance. Much as Aernst's power was affected by the number of his followers, Eyaruss draws strength and authority from Khon Gruss.

"Perhaps I will get lucky and find some soul in this town who has stumbled across great sums of wealth and needs my help." Aernst grunted a bitter laugh at the bleak prospect of that happening anywhere around here.

Hrbloch's muffled reply came from inside the cloak: "If you have not learned anything from me to know that it is the sharp that finds the fortune, then I hope that it is that you have learned that fortune only comes to those who seek her"

Aernst shrugged off the cryptic ramblings of the ancient snapper and plunged through the muck and into the town. His general ledger, abacus, and pencils were secure within his pack; his ever full sack of currency (best not to be relied upon in lands that trade primarily in livestock) secured safely inside his cloak next to Hrbloch. He knew full and well that if he was going to raise his standing among the Aesir, he had to gain some followers.

He saw the lights ahead indicating a gathering place for the locals. Aernst sighed and drew his cloak tighter around himself bracing himself to face the onslaught of noise and stench that awaited within the building with the sign proclaiming itself The Bloodsong.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

Thrudd felt the tug, innocuous as it was but certainly discernable by the raising of the short hairs on her arms and at the back of her neck. The man playing the flute reminded her of a tale she'd heard long ago, but no... It couldn't be. Could it? Well there was only one way to find out.

Nodding in Danic's direction, she grinned and stood, slowly making her way to where the stranger stood, pipe and pipe in hand. She watched the smoke swirl lazily upward, forming shapes not unlike the way clouds did on a bright summer day. Another trick she recognized, and one that piqued her curiosity even more.

"So... of all the taverns in all of... Skjullhofud, what brings you into mine?"

 

[clan_destine]

Fergus

By the time Fergus found the town, he'd decided that springtime was not his favorite season. In order to make sure that he kept his course straight, he'd chosen to make use of the road, only to discover that dwarves did not mix will with mud. A mile from the town, his boots had developed a nasty habit of sticking in the thick sludge, slowing his travel as he relied more and more upon fortitude to drive through it. At the town limits, he'd discovered that one of his boots had a leak starting, leaving him with a squelching step and a soaking foot.

Communities tended to be built along similar lines, ones that generally meant little needed wasted time searching for places he needed. In this case, the local gathering was easy to see, and the dwarf squelched his way into the Blood Song. He found a corner to drop his pack in, noting with satisfaction the dark environs, the smoking torches and fire, and the preference for decorating with antlers. All signs of a solid people.

His brief reverie was broken by someone stepping on his foot. While the incident did assist in driving the excess liquid from his boot, it also served to anger him, and Fergus only allowed himself a brief moment to feel the pain before he decided to return the favor.

Quickly stepping around the man, Fergus planted himself firmly in his path, his eyes glaring brightly from under his helmet.

"Oy! Ya dropped something, there!" While his voice was kept to a conspirital volume, his tone was nothing short of a challenge. The man paused, blinking around the lip of his greenware mug. In a prime example of drunken logic, he leaned forward, looking over Fergus in search of whatever he had dropped. Fergus assisted him with his quest by snapping his head forward to the point where his chin touched his chest, then hopped upwards, the apex of his helmet meeting sharply with the man's chin. As the man started to tumble backwards, Fergus neatly caught the dropped mug, and managed to empty it down his throat before the man's limp form could strike the floor. With a satisfied belch, Fergus turned to address the crowd.

"I'm Fergus Frostreaver, dwarf o' the northen floes! I'm here lookin' for adventure and a chance to prove that although I'm half y'r sizes, I'm a match f'r any o' ye." With a wink, he lifted the empty mug in a toast. "Any takers?"

 

[DRxBlue]

Busted!

The Godha herself got up and approached Starkynd and asked him what he was doing there. He stopped playing abruptly and lamely goggled at her.

"Oh my, Good Lady, I fear you have the advantage of me. I have come to become a member of your "Raidho". I am an experienced sailor and a Doctor as well... I can cure anything from a splinter to a cannonball wound.

"I also have three enormous trunks of trade goods which you would share in the profits of. It is medicine which we can sell to the natives of any country we might visit. I can guarantee sales to any group of natives... my medicine is a cure-all which anyone will agree is most efficacious.

"I can also be most entertaining while on board while there is nothing to do but row or tend the sails. Please Madame grant me leave to come aboard. It could be quite profitable, and I am so bored with these Northern climates."

He puffed on the contraption he called his "Individual Bonfire" and looked expectantly into the eyes of Thrudd.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Thrudd Thorsdottir

"You'll do," Thrudd said absent-mindedly, her attention drawn toward the ruckus surrounding a dwarf who was challenging any takers, she shook her head. Short men always had a need to appear bigger than the rest of the pack. "You there," she called, tilting her chin in his direction. "I'll take you on. And in the meantime... "

As the moon had both risen and set again, Thrudd stifled a yawn behind her hand. Having chosen Danic to captain the Skidbladnir and command the vikverjar, she now left the disposition of tasks in his hands, announcing: "We sail at cock's crow" before leaving the Blood Song to make her way along the path that led to her small home.

Thrudd Thorsdottir looked around the single room of the house she had lived in for so very long as she readied herself for sleep, the heat from the hearth unable to take the chill from her bones. The All-Father willing, they would have a good journey, though she had no kenning of how many would survive, including herself.

 

[andygorn]

Inga

A late night's swim was just the thing Inga needed to get the dust of the journey out of her long raven-black hair and clothes.
Taking care to see that no threats were near, she disrobed and dived perfectly into the crystal clear water, her long strokes cleaving easily through the liquid which enveloped her.
As she swam, she cast her mind back to what had sent her here, to the harbour of the Skidbladnir:
Tales of adventure were always abounding in the region, yet there was something else about this expedition in particular which drew her attention; a real sense of danger and honour to be won on distant shores was too good an opportunity to miss.
By all accounts, the head of the expedition was brave and bold, yet measured and honourable, too...and it was these qualities which drew Inga to the village of the Blood Song inn.

Feeling refreshed, she pulled on her spare clothing - a set of sturdy boots leggings, with shirt and tunic. Buckling her shield to her left arm and taking her spear in her right, she cast a side glance at the Saxon sword she wore, wondering if she might find her father.
Casting such fleeting weakness aside, she looked around for signs of life, yet it was early morning and few stirred at such an hour.
However, she could see that a large ship already sat in the bay, like a silent dragon waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting prey.

The thought of such restrained violence gave her goose-bumps, yet she knew that to show hesitation in such company may be fatal, so she lengthened her stride, giving it a little more purpose as she walked across to the ships to see if she could rouse anybody onboard, hoping that she would not be too late to join...

 

[clan_destine]

Fergus

The man that had stepped on him had come with the baggage of two associates, both equally inebriated and short minded. One of them attempted to avenge their associate with a fast lunging punch. Unfortunately, his aim was hindered by drink and an unfamiliarity with fighting shorter opponents. All avoidance took was a brief side step, and the fist passed through where his face would have been, if he'd been still and a head taller. Fergus caught the man's hand as he stumbled off balance, yanked it out and downward, then slammed the mug into the man's armpit. Fergus' ears caught the brief snap of the arm dislocating, the noise hidden beneath the shattering of the mug. He managed to replace the shattered mug with the one from the man's other hand, as the man fell back, his face frozen in a near silent scream.

The other idiot took the time to step back for preparig his punch. As he did, his own drink started to spill from the actions, and Fergus muttered a quick plea to Ymir, his fingers working in the needed forms. The drink froze in mid slosh, not only the contents of the mug, but the liquid that had spilled onto his arm. With a sudden yelp, the man found himself trying to shake the cold from his arm, his attention completely turned away from the dwarf. Fergus planted his fist firmly into the man's stomach, and watched happily as his chin struck the floor.

The woman that seemed to be holding court in the gathering yelled at him that he was accepted into her crew, and Fergus nodded happily. He drained the second mug neatly, then looked about for a place to settle in, at least a clean corner to sleep in for the night.