Sesh 2: Magics work thy Will. Ending 23rd Feb

Taft speaks to the woman, and she turns her head to him at his kind words, yet she scowls. "I am Ragna, of the Steading of Sigrunholt. You have left my sisters, Friggr and Svana, for the worms today." Her head shakes. "You offer bread. Let us break it together. Then I will grieve."Eirikr, you've been taken to the Shrinehouse by Freyr, who is helping a Herbalist tend your wounds. His hands shake as he helps tie your bandages.Winter's Third Bite and Vasil, as you make your work, you feel at least one pair of eyes on you. Bram stands by his home, cool rage seething as he looks on. The rope cuts easily, and the banner moves free. It seems to pull at your grip, as if resisting being moved.

Shadow, you also hear a sort of screaming from the banner. An eerie, painfed, sound like the wind whistling through a quarry.

Working quickly, and ignoring Bram, Vasil rolls the banner, grabbing it and the pole in one hand, gripping tightly his spear in the other.

Vasil walks back toward his workshop, quiet and determined. Alert.

Reaching the forge, it is still warm from the embers of last night's fire. Deep red coals sit under a blanket of white ash. Without flint, nor tinder, Vasil is able to get a fire started with relative ease. Vasil turns back to the wolf in his doorway.
See? No flint, nor tinder. Vasil announces with a playful smile. Vasil knows this is not what Winter's Third Bite meant.

The wolf glares, and waits. He says nothing.

Vasil shoves the roll of fabric into the forge, and begins pumping the bellows, stomping furiously the wooden plate.

The fire flares in the forge. Vasil pumps harder, until the forge is hot enough to soften steel. Winter's Third Bite, still sits in his doorway, watching. Looking in his forge, Vasil is deflated - the banner is wreathed in flame, and untouched. Part of him knew this to be the case before he tried.

Vasil turns to the wolf, a touch sheepishly.
Ok, we have tried my way. Tell me yours.


The wolf speaks low and slow, I cannot tell you exactly how it is done, but as the embers remain in the forge, so do they remain within you. Find their warmth, and channel it out into the world.

Vasil listens quietly, and follows his new friend's instructions. Vasil pulls the banner from the forge using his tongs, and lays it on the floor of the workshop, clearing a space.

Sit. comes the voice from the doorway.
Vasil kneels upon the floor, sitting upon his heels. He slows his breathing, and concentrates. He sits like this for some time, adjusting to a more comfortable position, and removing his apron, and his gloves. Vasil imagines flames burning the banner, consuming the fabric, taking it for fuel. Fire creates heat, but requires heat to start. He imagines the spark, the heat. He closes his eyes and focuses.

Shadow pads silently behind Vasil as the blacksmith sits, concentrating. The wolf sniffs the air, taking in the smell of the forge and fire. This place was perfect for what the blacksmith was trying to do.

It flops down onto the floor behind Vasil, facing the door both to give the smith privacy and to protect him from intruders.

Taft shifts awkwardly at the mention of the woman's dead companions.

"There has not been war around Kallbacken since the time of my great-grandmother. We carried back our wounded, but did not have time to deal with your dead. It is only right that they are rightly treated for passage into the spirit world. And besides, we cannot have the Bruine feasting on human flesh and hungering for our smell.

Once the banner is down, I find you comfort inside. Then I will lead people back to the bog to recover the bodies of your companions. We will build a pyre on yonder cliff, and give your friends' ashes back to the wind. This is the Kallbacken way."

Ragna's stomach grumbles, and she sits on the ground, her legs crossed, back straight. It looks an odd sort of pose to someone from Kallbacken.

Vasil's eyes closed, he concentrates hard, fingertips pressed lightly on the banner. He feels a warmth in his solar plexus, like the pleasant warmth from a strong drink. The heat grows and moves up his chest, through his shoulders. Behind him, Winter's Third Bite releases a low growl, a humming sound that seems to split and harmonise with itself. Focusing on the sound, the heat reaches Vasil's fingers. He now feels heat - real heat on his skin. His eyes open, and his hands are wreathed in flame. He fights the urge to pull his hand from the fire, and renews his focus, imagining the flames spreading and consuming the fabric.

The flames are beautiful.

The flames are beautiful indeed, and as they touch the banner it begins to shrivel. A cloud seems to burst from it, but the flames travel swiftly up into the cloud, releasing green smoke tinged with blue. The last part of the banner to burn is the large eye.

Winter's Third Bite as the flames touch the banner, you can start to hear a screaming sound. At first a sound like a stone rolling down a hill, you begin to feel like the scratching is making words; finally a piercing scream rings out "Master, they are burning me. Send Help, Stop Them!". As the flames burn through the eye, the screaming stops. Vasil, you heard nothing but the burning of the cloth, a few pops of the metals in it, and the splitting of a little kindling you'd added.

Shadow's ears prick up at the scream, but the wolf makes no noise. As Vasil rakes the ashes into a bowl, it rises to its feet. It pads up behind him and bumps the back of his neck gently with a cold, wet nose. When Vasil looks over his shoulder at the wolf, it nods at him. It's pleased with his work.

It lopes out of the smithy, through the now-bannerless town square, and out of the gates towards where Taft and the strange woman sit. As soon as it spots them, Shadow loops around the two, stepping out of the shadows behind Ragna and brushing past her to sit next to Taft. The wolf leans heavily on its friend, resting its head on his shoulder and panting. "It is done," the wolf says. "It squealed for help as it burned."

Vasil trails behind Shadow, head spinning. If I can channel flame, what does this mean? This raises questions of Vasil's paternity, of who he is, of his position in society.

Reaching the small group, he presents the small bowl of ashes to Taft and the prisoner woman without a word.

Taft accepts the bowl from Vasil with a measure of ceremony. He is unsure of what to do, so he turns and faces the low, windswept evergreens that surround the town, and takes a deep breath.

A stiff breeze blows off the ocean and stings Taft's cheeks. It is a comforting feeling, and reminds him that he is home. He is right where he needs to be.

Taft lifts the bowl in the air and lets the ocean breeze sweep out the ashes. They drift and scatter away.

The weathered hunter smiles to his companions. "It is as easy as that. The winds are cleansing.

Come inside, Ragna. Alva will have bread ready. I will gather some people to recover your fallen comrades."

Taft nods to Shadow and Vasil, so that they might accompany him.

Once inside, he finds his old friend Bohn kicking the muck off his boots. He steps away from the woman and speaks to Bohn in the no-nonsense tone they have with each other.

"Oy, old friend. We need to bring in those bodies. Otherwise, the Bruine will be out there and git the taste of human flesh. We'll have to burn 'em like we do our own. I think the woman would like that anyways. Can you get some o' the boys out?"

Bohn nods in agreement and heads off, rubbing the bog-muck off his pantaloons.

Bohn slips off, the moon lighting his path, gone to steal the raven's breakfast.

The moon is high in the sky, you having returned later than any others to Kallbacken, and Alva is nowhere in Taft's residence. A hunk of meat, Iofr's pork, sits by a large loaf, still warm day.

Taft:It's eerie in here, you'd have expected your wife to be waiting for you; she normally only stays out on nights where there's a difficult birth, or a nasty injury. There must have been more trouble than you saw in the fighting.

There's enough food for all of you, and Ragna barely waits to be allowed before taking her chunk of bread and meat and setting about eating it. It's clear that she's taking what little happiness she can from this meal.

The meal is hearty, and the food fortifies you, but you are all aware that you've not slept much since the sundown before this one.

Shadow: You're not hungry for human fare, your pack feasted a few days ago.

Eirikr starts to sit up, his wounds stinging from the herbs and bandages that have been placed on them. He winces as he stretches, and soon the pain subsides. He reaches out to hold Freyr's hand.

Vasil left the group, walking back to the forge. Hungry, tired, confused. Today he had taken human lives. It weighed heavy upon him. Vasil did not enjoy violence, but saw its necessity in places. With a head full of thoughts, and a heavy heart, he walked inside of his forge, and sat upon the floor, near the scorch mark where he had summoned fire with his hands.

Vasil spent a time pondering the implications of it all. Taking the lives of men and women. The prisoner they took seemed highly reasonable, he assumed those he killed were much the same. Then his thoughts would jump to the Firetaming, and what that meant. The competing thoughts were too much, and he sat in a daze, not making any progress.

Oyvind shuffles into the room, holding two mugs of tea.
I see you survived, lad. The old man smiles, and touches Vasil's hand as he passes the tea.

I... Vasil falters, looking down. Oyvind smiles reassuringly in response.

Taft's boy, Eirikr took a blade to the side on the bridge, I hear.

Vasil looks up sharply, forgetting his own troubles, Oh, shit I - he scrambles to his feet, walking out the door, tea still in hand. He remembers the tea, drinks it quickly, and walks back inside, handing the mug to a grinning Oyvind.
I see there is much on your mind. We'll talk later. See to the boy for now. He rests in the Shrinehouse. The old Blacksmith places a large hand on Vasil's shoulder - a half-hug.

Vasil walks to where he last saw Taft, Shadow, and the prisoner. Finding the spot deserted, he walks to Taft and Alva's house, spotting Shadow along the way. Vasil walks through the front door without knocking.

Vasil.. Taft declares, perturbed by the abruptness of his entry. Ragna jumps at the sudden intrusion.

Forgive me, apologises Vasil, It's your boy. Eirikr.

Taft pales, standing. He lives, but was wounded. He's in the Shrinehouse.

As the group leave Taft and Alva's house, Vasil looks down guiltily - in his haste, he had tracked mud through the front door. Alva may be one of the kindest people in this town, but he was not getting away with this. Taft glances back at Ragna, unsure what to do about her. Oyvind appears, bearing two mugs, and a tea kettle. I understand we have a new member of the village I need to meet. With a characteristic Oyvind smile.

You just know everything, old man! I need to find out where you get your information. Vasil chides playfully, as they rush to the Shrinehouse.

The mood is sombre on the walk over, in spite of the occasional attempt at levity from Vasil. The group arrives at the Shrinehouse - this time Vasil remembers to clean his boots - wanting to avoid drawing the ire of yet another. Taft rushes inside, finding Alva, Eirikr and Freyr.Some time later...

...the main incursion seems to have been repelled. We've got dead to burn, a prisoner to befriend, and preparations to make.
Turning to Shadow, You said the ancient forest wardens invited us to "treat with them", you said. When the "time is right",
what did you mean?

Shadow yawns and flumps to the ground near Taft. It watches the humans tucking in, remembering how it used to beg for scraps as a yearling. Its tail beats the ground a few times before straying heavily across Taft's foot. When Taft glances down at it, Shadow yawns happily."Friends, remember the invitation my Dominant has extended to you. An invitation from her should not be turned down. I will set out for the range tomorrow when the sun is at its highest, will you both go with me?"

I will join you.Vasil goes back to his house and sleeps.

In the morning, Vasil returns to the bridge and battle site to help with the bodies - carrying, looting, burning (in an attempt to practice his newfound talent)

Any weapons and armour recovered should be returned to his workshop for cleaning, sharpening and maintenance before redistribution to the people of Kallbacken.

After ensuring that the Erikr is okay, Taft nods to Shadow.

"I will go with you tomorrow."

Taft returns home with Alva after helping their son home.

Once back at their house, Taft quietly walks through the rooms, listening. Over his years in the bush, Taft has developed a sense for when an animal is close. Often, he 'feels' the proximity of his prey before he sees them. He's never been able to explain, but he and Bohn both talk about it.

It is similar to when someone is watching you. If you are quiet and aware, you can feel someone's attention on you.

This is what it felt like, earlier in the evening. Now, in his barefeet, with Ragna and Alva sleeping, Taft listens.

Eirikr, your mother and Karl have been tending your wounds. At times she has been fierce, but every so often her voice cracks, and the voice that raised you spoke. As there was no-one as wounded as you destined to remain amongst the living, she has had enough time to bind and wash your wound twice over. She’s brought soup, the taste of the chickens in it reminds you of hen you were ill as a boy, fighting off some malady or other.For yourself, Eirikr, you feel pretty awful. Freyr grasps your hand, and speaks about how brave you were. At one point, Taft and Shadow visit. When they leave, they take your wailing mother away so that she can eat something herself. Freyr takes you, gently and limping, into your bed. He tells you your mother thinks it will start to get better soon, but that it won’t finish fixing for a while.Taft, as you walk through the house, your answer comes to you. The meal was warm and ready for you, and as delicious as freshly made food. The pork was roasted throughout the day, but mustn’t have been left in the house some time before your return, the same must have been true of the bread.

Shadow even before Taft has asked you to listen, you cocked your ear at the sounds of the Nameless Spirits in this place. They seem happier, and perhaps more active, than usual. So far they have yet to get out of hand and act rashly or oddly, but their behaviour is a little.... festive.

***

Vasil you start helping move the bodies. There are eleven fallen enemies of Kallbacken, and two fallen members of Kallbacken. Kata is in the village, receiving the bodies in front of the Shrinehouse, and she thanks you for what you did for the town. She and Axe have already prepared two pyres. One for those of the village, and one for the enemies. They are taking care that any personal effects remain with the bodies, but putting the weapons and armour aside.

As you return with the final body, you see Bram with Kata. He shouts, loudly, "Outsiders such as these. And that lousy limping thug in the smithy, don’t deserve to enter these walls. They should be left to rot outside Kallbacken. If I see anyone bring a torch to their pyre, I’ll make them wish they weren’t born!".

Vasil drags the corpse toward the pyre, he has a good quip in return for Bram, but holds his tongue. This is not the time, nor place. Let the fool hang himself by his own words. Vasil simply shoots a supportive glance to Kata, and a small shrug to Axe.
Calm, respectful. Ignore the idiot.
He hates that guy.