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Crowns of Ice - A Tale of Blood and Betrayal - Chapter I - The Isle of Heildam
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<blockquote data-quote="Archon Basileus" data-source="post: 7132043" data-attributes="member: 6855545"><p><strong>EVERYONE</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>The longboats approach the deck destined to them. Clearly the hosts expected a big entourage, since a vast area was reserved for the arrivals. As the traveling party step onto the boardwalk, they see several curious faces glancing at them, mostly commoners gathered to take a peek at jarldom’s life. Young ladies spread flower petals around, festive and unceremonious. Men and women gather nearby, trying to watch the bride – and praising her beauty as they accomplish their goal. Drinking horns are raised and, in the back, animals are slaughtered before passing eyes, a demonstration of abundance and a welcoming act in the eyes of grandaelian pagans.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>THORIR</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“Hahaha! Raise your glasses for the bride, men! You won’t see dragons and kings together again in a lifetime!” – the blond and fat loudmouth says from the deck of a longboat, his left arm thrown around a thin girl dressed in leather and furs. The man looks straight at Thorir, a sly smile lacking one tooth right in the middle... Rolf the Biter. Pirate, warrior, sell-sword. Thorir’s old nemesis, occasional ally, as greedy and cunning as they come. His lady, Black Sigun, known as the Hand of Hella, is a skilled assassin and the second in command for his crew.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>They might have not recognized the Sea King. It’s been a long time since they last met. Still, what in Odin’s name are they doing here? Looking for a fence? Working for the locals? One thing is certain: they’re always chasing a fat purse and strong allies. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>ASTRID/ALEC</strong></p><p><strong>As the crowd cheers, father and daughter see a line of mounted women arriving at the end of the boardwalk. They are well-dressed, fine clothes covered in impressive pieces of armor. All of them use their hairs long and adorned, riding with pride among the others. The crowd bends and allows them passage. Five in total, their leader is especially impressive. Her golden hair hurts the eye under the summer light. Her armor shines as if polished against sand moments ago. She wears a round shield in her back and a pair of swords at her belt. She’s no shieldmaiden, both MacTiers understand. Valkyries. The warrior-queens of the north. The colors and banners attached to the raiders confirm their suspicions, the white and golden warring swans over red bending in the wind. </strong></p><p><strong>The leader dismounts and marches towards bride and father. Measuring Astrid’s apron, she looks surprised, almost disappointed. Still, she continues, a genuine smile upon her rosy visage.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>“Greetings, sister!” – she extends her welcomes towards Astrid. “Jarl Alec” – she remarks, on a serious, brief tone. “We are here to serve as your escort. Such was the honor granted to us by Jarl Volund. Your hosts await anxiously at the longhouse.” – she gestures towards the horses. “We… Did not expect you to be so eagerly ready to the ceremony. We were to serve as your maidens during the wedding, but seeing that you are clothed and ready, I trust it won’t be necessary.” – she refers to the pagan tradition of undressing and bathing the bride before the wedding. “No matter! Tearing such a lovely dress would be sad, and I trust at least some demiurgian traditions should be kept, after all, during the ceremony.” – her tone strikes hard. Despite not being rude, it does sound forceful. </strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>ARVID</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>As the master and advisor studies his surroundings, he realizes that Einar feared the worst. To most people, the presence of archers all around the cliffs might seem as regular protection for important arrivals, but their positioning presumes an ambush. Also, on the two sides of the boardwalk longboats of his fleet remain apparently unoccupied. He’d bet his good leg there are several armed men hidden there, and also in the crowd. A pair of Einar’s personal servants – two girls to be more precise – throw incisive glances at Arvid, as if trying to understand the situation to report to the Jarl’s son. Horses nearby will probably be used as soon as a report is given.</strong></p><p><strong></strong></p><p><strong>This does not surprise Arvid. What concerns him, though, is the presence of a certain dark man, the very same that visited Einar’s chambers before, among the crowd. He observes in silence, moving from side to side of the boardwalk with skilled, calculated steps, barely noticeable. He seems to be looking for something or someone with haste and concern.</strong></p><p></p><p> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=8058" target="_blank">Queenie</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=2820" target="_blank">Fenris</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=24380" target="_blank">Neurotic</a></u></strong></em> @<em><strong><u><a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855204" target="_blank">tglassy</a></u></strong></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Archon Basileus, post: 7132043, member: 6855545"] [B]EVERYONE The longboats approach the deck destined to them. Clearly the hosts expected a big entourage, since a vast area was reserved for the arrivals. As the traveling party step onto the boardwalk, they see several curious faces glancing at them, mostly commoners gathered to take a peek at jarldom’s life. Young ladies spread flower petals around, festive and unceremonious. Men and women gather nearby, trying to watch the bride – and praising her beauty as they accomplish their goal. Drinking horns are raised and, in the back, animals are slaughtered before passing eyes, a demonstration of abundance and a welcoming act in the eyes of grandaelian pagans. THORIR “Hahaha! Raise your glasses for the bride, men! You won’t see dragons and kings together again in a lifetime!” – the blond and fat loudmouth says from the deck of a longboat, his left arm thrown around a thin girl dressed in leather and furs. The man looks straight at Thorir, a sly smile lacking one tooth right in the middle... Rolf the Biter. Pirate, warrior, sell-sword. Thorir’s old nemesis, occasional ally, as greedy and cunning as they come. His lady, Black Sigun, known as the Hand of Hella, is a skilled assassin and the second in command for his crew. They might have not recognized the Sea King. It’s been a long time since they last met. Still, what in Odin’s name are they doing here? Looking for a fence? Working for the locals? One thing is certain: they’re always chasing a fat purse and strong allies. ASTRID/ALEC As the crowd cheers, father and daughter see a line of mounted women arriving at the end of the boardwalk. They are well-dressed, fine clothes covered in impressive pieces of armor. All of them use their hairs long and adorned, riding with pride among the others. The crowd bends and allows them passage. Five in total, their leader is especially impressive. Her golden hair hurts the eye under the summer light. Her armor shines as if polished against sand moments ago. She wears a round shield in her back and a pair of swords at her belt. She’s no shieldmaiden, both MacTiers understand. Valkyries. The warrior-queens of the north. The colors and banners attached to the raiders confirm their suspicions, the white and golden warring swans over red bending in the wind. The leader dismounts and marches towards bride and father. Measuring Astrid’s apron, she looks surprised, almost disappointed. Still, she continues, a genuine smile upon her rosy visage. “Greetings, sister!” – she extends her welcomes towards Astrid. “Jarl Alec” – she remarks, on a serious, brief tone. “We are here to serve as your escort. Such was the honor granted to us by Jarl Volund. Your hosts await anxiously at the longhouse.” – she gestures towards the horses. “We… Did not expect you to be so eagerly ready to the ceremony. We were to serve as your maidens during the wedding, but seeing that you are clothed and ready, I trust it won’t be necessary.” – she refers to the pagan tradition of undressing and bathing the bride before the wedding. “No matter! Tearing such a lovely dress would be sad, and I trust at least some demiurgian traditions should be kept, after all, during the ceremony.” – her tone strikes hard. Despite not being rude, it does sound forceful. ARVID As the master and advisor studies his surroundings, he realizes that Einar feared the worst. To most people, the presence of archers all around the cliffs might seem as regular protection for important arrivals, but their positioning presumes an ambush. Also, on the two sides of the boardwalk longboats of his fleet remain apparently unoccupied. He’d bet his good leg there are several armed men hidden there, and also in the crowd. A pair of Einar’s personal servants – two girls to be more precise – throw incisive glances at Arvid, as if trying to understand the situation to report to the Jarl’s son. Horses nearby will probably be used as soon as a report is given. This does not surprise Arvid. What concerns him, though, is the presence of a certain dark man, the very same that visited Einar’s chambers before, among the crowd. He observes in silence, moving from side to side of the boardwalk with skilled, calculated steps, barely noticeable. He seems to be looking for something or someone with haste and concern.[/B] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=8058"]Queenie[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=2820"]Fenris[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=24380"]Neurotic[/URL][/U][/B][/I] @[I][B][U][URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/member.php?u=6855204"]tglassy[/URL][/U][/B][/I] [/QUOTE]
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