Fantasy Weaving the Winds

[Waverly]

Weaving the Winds

Magnus went outside and stretched his arms out, pandiculating in the morning sun. The weather was as good as only weather could be this time of year; warm and sunny with a faint breeze caressing the fields that covered the land like a burlap patchwork in greens and browns. It was closing in on midsummer, the time of year when the sun never sets this far north.


Something tugged at Magnus' left sock, like if to get attention. Magnus didn't look down, instead he closed his eyes and turned his face toward the bright, warm sun. “You're up early” he said with a smile on his lips, “Have you been playing outside all on your own, Nönja?”. Magnus had expected to hear his sweet daughter reply, but the only answer he got was continued tugging at the sock. He looked down, and found that it wasn't Nönja doing the tugging at all, it was a fawn!


Someone had tied the poor animal to the porch, and Magnus didn't know what to make of it. Who could've done this? And where was Nönja? Magnus called for her, but when she didn't reply it was clear that something wasn't right this morning. So, Magnus called for his wife and all their servants, ordering them to search for the girl all around the farm, the fields and on the road leading away from it. They searched every inch of every building; the long-houses, the baking-house, the outhouse, even the sheds and stables, but the girl was not to be found...

 

[Waverly]

It was still quite early in the morning but the sun had already managed to climb high in the sky, letting it's warm rays of light gently touching the landscape of north-western Midhalpad. Larks, wagtails, thrush birds and many others were singing sweet melodies of spring as they made their way across the sky on their light wings. The sky was clear blue save for a few last remnants of the thick, grey, blanket of the storm clouds that had dominated the heavens during the nights and days prior. But whereas it was hard to see it in the skies, there was plenty of traces on the ground that the rainstorm had left in it's wake; the road was muddy and puddles where to be found in any corner that the sun hadn't quite yet reached. Tiny droplets of rainwater still hung about in each spruce, fir, birch and juniper, looking like hundreds upon hundreds of gemstones as they reflected the rays of the morning sun.


Just like the singing birds, Illwa didn't seem to be bothered by the mud, nor the wet branches that smeared rainwater from yesterday onto her as she passed them. No, she enjoyed the ride through the landscape and leaned back in her saddle to really let the sun get a good glimpse of her face so it could caress it with it's warm rays. She truly revelled at the scent of midsummer-flowers growing in the fallow fields they passed, and just the same at the scent of moss and flowers in each forest glade. In all, it was a perfect way to start the somewhat long and demanding journey to the Midhalpadian capital of Silangir.


Illwa, her brother (Varg), and their father (Aagbiorn) had set out for the distant destination of Silangir this morning in order for Aagbiorn to attend the leet – the Allthing – that was going to be held there within a fortnight. Aside from Aagbiorn one more of the local patrons, Magnus Jorulvsson, was going to attend the leet, and as of now the trio was heading towards Magnus' farm to pick him up before heading due east to Lake Huljin from which they would travel by boat on Huljeälv, the river, all the way down to Silangir. With any luck, and if they made haste, they would reach Huljin after two days on the horseback. And they sure had to make it there by then if they wished to be in time for the Allthing, for the rainstorm had delayed their departure with two days already.


Soon, Jorulvsson farmstead appeared before their eyes. First, a thin pillar of smoke gently dancing as it was rising through the mild morning breeze. And then, the buildings and the surrounding meadows. The farm was a big one, with several smaller houses scattered around the two long-houses that made up the centre of the farmstead. And even if Illwa had seen the farm many times before, she raised her eyebrow at the sight that she now beheld; there was not only cattle on the meadows, no, there were people too, and a handful of them at that! Running around all over the place, as if they were looking for something. Upon getting closer Illwa could clearly hear them call out a name, several times over – Nönja. It was a name that Illwa knew belonged to Magnus' daughter, a girl five years of age. In fact, Illwa had been the one to come up with the name in the first place, several years ago, and as such she had always liked the girl and seen her as a little sister even though they were not related to each other.


A strange and worrying feeling started brewing in Illwa as they closed in on the farm. Something must've happened to poor Nönja!

--- --- --- --- --- ---

​

At Jorulvsson farm, things were all other than calm despite the wonderful weather that this morning had gifted the world with. The patron of the farm, Magnus, had woken early to get on the road, heading to Silangir in order to attend the Allthing. But before long he had ordered everyone on the farm, family, guests and servants alike to look for his daughter Nönja, who had gone missing during the night.


Apparently there'd been a fawn tied to the porch, and someone had found colourful beads and big footprints in the mud on the fields close to the northern forest. When the girl wasn't found Magnus had ordered everyone to gather by the well. No one had said anything yet, but the same thought was on everybody’s mind; trolls or elves! And for most people it was a strange feeling, standing there by the well. It was such a nice day, blooming bird cherry surrounded the well. It really didn't rhyme well with the tragedy that seemed to be at hand.


@Irubus @The One Called X @Cannibal @kira blackthorn @Killigrew @Ire

 

[kira blackthorn]

The sun was barely gleaming over the horizon when Merucla found himself running threw the forest. Beside him Bilbo thundered threw the forest following his rider. Letting out a joyful howl the young man leapt off over a fallen log and landed in a crouch paying no mind to the slickness caused by the rain. The forest was were he ruled. It was his home and no rain would stop him from exploring it!


It was midday before Merucla, now on the back of Bilbo rode into Magnus farm. Quickly noticing the ruckus occurring around the farm as people ran back and forth he grew worried. Dismounting from the horse he headed for the nearest person, a young woman that seemed frazzled, and requested information for the state of the farm. "Excuse me ma'am but may I ask what has occurred for the farm to be so unravelled?"


"Oh, it's terrible, just terrible. The young lass Nonja has up and vanished. Leaving nothing but a fawn, some beads, and a giant footprint. Oh what shall happen if we don't find the poor lass?"


Leaving the frazzled woman an extremely worried Merucla headed further into the farm, an anxious Bilbo close on his heels. What has happened to Nonja? What creature has sunk their fingers into her and what of their intentions? Nearing upon the farm he was relieved to spot his close friend and her family slightly ahead of him. Quickly catching up to Illwa he walked beside her as he inquired her knowledge. "Hello dear friend. What do you know of this recent tragedy?"

 

[AlexNos]

Finn sat on a rock, which was set next to a stream, which ran through a forest. The sun shined through the leaves and beat down upon his bare back, which itself was covered in pale, raised scars. He sat there, legs crossed and hands upon his knees, eyes closed and mind wandering, reciting various mantras. He had been up since dawn, as was his habit, and was nearly finished with his morning meditation, when there came a whistling sound from above. Though the sound itself was cherry, the message it carried was not. Opened his eyes and turned his head, finding the winged messenger. A blue jay, sitting on a branch above him.


Though most animals of this world instinctively knew him as a Ranger (and so that was what they called him) not all of them were as intelligent as one would hope them to be. As such, the message received from this particular blue jay was simple and to the point. "Ranger! Help!" Finn raised a brow and let out a low whistling noise, conversing with the bird. "Find brother crow or cousin wolf. Carry with you the words of a Ranger." Though he wasn't able to use these exact words, the bird understood and quickly flew off to find one or the other. Or both.


In the meantime, he began to dress. He quickly felled his tent, snuffed his fire, and put away his meal from the night before, a few rabbits, though he did leave two whole ones out. He dressed as well, quickly pulling on a tunic before putting on his armours and weapons, followed by his cloak. He had broken camp and finished dressing by the time the blue jay returned, with a crow and a wolf in tow. He smiled and began conversing with them, using the formal words of greetings and thanks. Greeting the blue jay, crow, and wolf as equals, as well as thanking them for allowing him to hunt and sleep within their woods. The returned with their own greetings and praise, thanking him for being the Ranger that he was and praising him as a hunter.


"So, our Sister Blue Jay brings a message calling for help. Might you tell me why?" Finn asked. The crow and wolf quickly explained as best the could, filling in the gaps that the other left out. "Farm in north of here. Good cattle for winter. Pup, female, missing, possibly taken. Scents I am unfamiliar with. They cry for help. We know you, the great Ranger, help best." the wolf said, before sitting on his haunches and turning to look at the crow. "They scatter like ants, searching the ground for hatchling, when they should spread their wings and take to the skies, for they would see much better as I do. They are frantic, searching, afraid. I see men staring at the print of a big one, but I am unsure what type of big one. They beg for help, and so we send Sister here to you, asking for help."


Finn nodded and picked up one of the rabbits, tossing it to the wolf, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a shiny trinket. He then picked up a small pouch and laid some grub worms on the rock, next to the shiny, but invaluable, ring. He then, held out the other rabbit. "Brother Crow and Sister Blue Jay have received their thanks for bringing me the message, Brother Wolf, as have you. I ask you a favour. Take me to this farm and you shall receive another as payment." The wolf quickly scarfed down the rest of the rabbit and turned, giving the words "Run with me as if you were one of my pack, Ranger."


Finn smirked and quickly followed, running with ease.




He came to the edge of the woods, stopping beside Brother Wolf, who was panting. "You run with the speed and stamina of mine ancestors, Ranger. Feel free to call upon my pack have you any need of us, where ever you are, and we shall come to your aide." the Wolf said, before staring at the rabbit Finn held in his hand. He handed it to the wolf and thanked him before turning his back and exiting the woods, drawing his hood up and approaching the farm with a confident stride.


He crossed the main road and approached the farm, coming up its road and approaching the house. He ignored the farmer and laid his hand on the head of the scared fawn, which almost immediately calmed. He then turned to the person who stood there. "If you are of the Old Faith, sacrifice this fawn to the gods, begging them to return the girl. I myself will ask Kunr and Rimr for guidance in finding her and those that took her." he told him, before turning and walking away, over to examine the footprint, towards the northern forest. Since he had approached from the south, he had not had an opportunity to examine the area, and as such any tracks had been covered by bootprints that had been ungracefully slammed into the mud.


Most of them clustered around one very large footprint and some beads. Finn stared at the track, measuring it and counting the toes, if any, that were visible. At least it hadn't rained again, which would have obscured any chance he would've had of tracking whatever this was. All the same, the farmer and his servants had helped by running around frantically, making tracks of their own. Finn grabbed a handful of the mud within the footprint sniffing and tasting it. Unfamiliar, just as Brother Wolf had said. He replaced the mud, smoothing it over, before picking up the beads and examining them closely. They were colorful, that was true. But there was something else...


His thoughts were interrupted by the farmer calling everyone to the well. He let out an animalistic growl and replaced the beads, exactly as he had found them. He stood and quickly walked away, approaching the well as everyone else, though he did hold back from joining the forefront of the crowd, preferring to stand at the edges and listen, speaking rarely, as always. When speculation of it being elves came about, he scoffed and spoke. "Elves? Unlikely. The footprints are too large and they rarely resort to stealing children. They prefer to seduce men wandering alone through the woods, as I'm sure a few of you are aware." he said, smirking.


"I would speculate it to be trolls, but this is unlike any that I have encountered. They normally leave one of their own, not a fawn. Nor do the Greys have things such as colorful beads. They prefer things that are... shinier. Such as gold, silver, or gemstones." Finn finished. He still had his face hidden in the shadows of his hood, but he could see from some gazes that his correcting them was unwelcome. His left hand drifted closer to his side, where his dagger was sheathed...

 

[Irubus]

"Wanderer of Ice


bearing Damascus,


northern scars of tale


and soul wounded from loss;


cries he had from sacrifice,


home guided his thoughts,


yet distraught was bear-coated


betrayal at his side."


"I thought of this while you were gone, what do you think?"


Adhering to their usual routine Aldner settled himself beside Hakan while the latter stood passively on a patch of grass next to the muddy road. The pair had been traveling for the past few months from southern Midhalpad, and despite the showers from above they had made good time in their journey. Very rarely slowing, except for a few meals, necessary rest, or perhaps some gathering of tales to be shared, they had taken a moment to part on their own paths like many times before. It was during the forks of certain paths that the two would stand at each other's side while one pointed with his sword and the other with his staff on opposite directions. It could almost be considered amusing how they had almost exact reflections in their sense of directions, though Aldner had noticed a common trend to his choices... Hakan had just returned from his private adventure, looking a bit more dragged down than he normally was, causing him to only look at the Skald and stare in mild disgust.


Return his gaze with a sheepish smile, Aldner could only muster "So... you don't like it? Darn, I thought I had some going.... Ahhhhh." Rubbing his head in frustration he jotted a few things down on the mud beside the stump he had been using as a makeshift seat. He was certain he had finally made something of worth this time around. Of course it was only the intro to Hakan's life so perhaps it was better that he add a bit more and show it to someone who it wasn't about before he became truly disheartened.


"His poems keep getting worse..." Hakan muttered under his breathe before letting out a sigh.


Aldner could only let out a guffaw as he scratched away at his scribbles while his free hand began to prep his belongings sitting beside him. The day had gone by far more smoothly than he had expected; the weather, despite having only dispersed a few hours ago, seemed to have left their path rather unscathed if only slowing them slightly. So it was best that they make haste less they waste their luck while it was still available to them. However, the reason Aldner had let out a boisterous laugh was due to the light development of Hakan's backbone. Whether it was the insult or the glare, the usual timid boy was definitely starting to let out more than he had made himself to be during their first encounter.


The two had met back in southern Midhalpad under what could be considered tame circumstances. Having opted on taking a less traveled path, out of what he could only consider intuition and gut feeling. Aldner came upon Hakan while the latter was hiding behind some rocks overseeing the main road. Of course finding the situation rather odd and suspicious the Skald couldn't help but naturally look around the area out of worry of an ambush in the making. Taking a few steps back slowly as to not draw his attention Aldner heard a distinct chime coming from his staff only susceptible to his own ears. A chilling breeze emanated from his staff and crept up his arm in a rather alarming rate, but was quickly followed by an encompassing warmth over his body. Images flashed before his mind of the cold tundra from the north and it's endless expansion of mountains that reigned over their domain. It was there within that blanket world that two spots could be seen, two bumps and imperfections within the beautiful world, but it was not those two things that he needed to understand. It was the small tracks that lay scattered around them that were important, prints of a child's feet.


Having understood the reasoning for this reaction, he hopped across a few scattered stones in a silent approach towards the man who didn't seem to have noticed him yet. It wasn't until he was a few steps away from the northern stranger that the Skald stopped, at first glance Aldner would have simply given him the title of bandit, or even a scouring peasant under desperation. But the man was no more worse for wear than himself though a little unclean, and seemed more frightened than any negative individual would normally be. Even the intricate sword at his side didn't seem fully poised and ready to strike by any means. How interesting he was.


"Walk with me." he voiced out catching the man by surprise.





It had taken him many days before Aldner was able to get Hakan to join him in his travels. During the many months that had passed since that event he had grown quite fond of the other man and was now more than happily to consider him a friend, though the younger sometimes opted to dismiss the allegation. Despite that, Hakan still remained with him without ever voicing his reasons and Aldner could only thank the gods for the comrade they had blessed him with. Everyone needed someone to talk to during travels, less they lose their minds and begin talking to stones who resembled others, Aldner was pretty sure he was going to hit that stage soon had he not met Hakan. Though he had heard stories of people who could speak to nature itself as though they were people. What a strange world it was.


Squelch





Aldner let out a tired groan before scraping away at what he hoped was mud from the bottom of his feet. He had been distracted in his own thoughts over what stories he had been planning on telling to the many leaders that would be gathered at the Allthing. He had decided in southern Midhalpad, upon meeting Hakan, on doing an almost full circle in territory to make the most of the time he had in these lands before the event. Certainly he wouldn't be the only Skald in the city during this meeting so he would have to one up them should they pose a threat to his crowd, so it was best that he freshen up his skills and acquire fresh tales. He was certain Hakan would go about and do his own thing in the capital, but Aldner couldn't help but wish the man would join him in his songs of yore. It would always end in a dismissing manner, but he never truly stated that he hated his work or the idea, though that last comment on his poem had been a first.


Letting out another guffaw at his own thoughts Hakan gave him an odd look at his side, almost if not already, assuming that the Skald had finally gone senile. Aldner knew it was not his time to drool away the day so he dismissed his companion with a pat on the back. Without noticing how far they had traveled so far Aldner took a look at their surrounding. The forest they had wandered into confirmed that they were almost at Magnus's farm and the trail before them was just as he remembered from the many years of travel. It was beautiful how nature didn't seem to change despite how much time had gone by. Even the light that broke through the branches was very much the same as before as it allowed for the usual darkness of the forest to take in a soft glow from the reflecting pools of water. Though the usual warmth it brought with it was not yet fully recovered as the passing storm seemed more than adamant on keeping it's mark for as long as it could. However a change was there, before the pair could even finish pacing through the forest they were ears to the loud exclamations resounding from a distance.


"Nönja!!"


"Nönja!!"





"So that was why the forest was so quiet." Aldner said grimly as his stomach churned uneasily already fearing the worst for daughter of the master. While he would visit at least once a year after making a friendship with Magnus, his daughter had always been one of those memorable kind of people who would soften you up after a treacherous journey through harsh lands. It wasn't until they had broken through the line that separated the farm and the forest that Aldner took in the craze that was the search party. Everyone seemed to be scattered about without much organization to their endeavors, "Hakan, I'm gonna go talk to an old friend if that's alright. Would you mind looking around and figuring out what everyone knows or maybe something you can figure out for yourself? I'd appreciate it." Leaving before his companion could even voice his decision Aldner began to pace towards Mangnus who was sticking out amidst the gathering crowd around the well.


"I would speculate it to be trolls, but this is unlike any that I have encountered. They normally leave one of their own, not a fawn. Nor do the Greys have things such as colorful beads. They prefer things that are... shinier. Such as gold, silver, or gemstones."


"Ah, so it was as I feared. The poor girl." shaking his head at his own silent words, he stepped past the stranger before noticing his hostile exterior and roaming hand the latter had taken. Looking at the man he felt nothing more than insulted at how he hid himself from view and yet dared to be so rude in his exclamations, though they were needed; yet even more so for his very notable dagger ready to be drawn.


"Sir... I believe enough tears have been shed this day, there is no need for hostility, everyone is simply on edge." Standing firmly before the man he pointed at the dagger with his staff. "However, if you seek to spill something then let it not be your own blood. Please leave and find someone who can accomplish your goals elsewhere but before you do let these peaceful villagers thank you for your kind opinion on the matter with a meal of some sort." turning away from the cloaked man he made his way to the master of the land.


"Magnus!" he exclaimed.


"Aldner!" the man greeted him in kind as the Skald came into view. They nodded at each other in a light greeting before turning back to the gather crowd. "Has anything been afoot in these lands since my last visit Magnus? This is the first time I hear about something like this happening." Aldner couldn't help but look around, the people who were not out searching were growing in numbers at a small rate, at a distance he could even see a rider coming up to their location. What a day it was going to be, and to think that he thought for a few moments the storm had already gone and passed.

 

[Cannibal]

Hakan followed Aldner at a distance, not wanting to attract too much attention to himself by asking the farmer folk questions. His attire and possessions were very lacking, almost screaming bandit. Despite his early misgivings at accompanying the skald on his travels, he could not deny that he had grown somewhat attached to the chatty fellow, though he'd never admit it. Travelling with a companion had its charms, despite the added difficulty in feeding his ravenous "friend". "The corner of his lips twitched upwards, remembering the time he first crossed paths with the skald, who had almost mistaken him for some thief or other person of ill disposition. Not that he was wrong. He shrank back into himself, wracked with guilt over his last venture. His hands still felt the warmth and stickiness of blood, and his throat constricted, the taste of flesh still fresh on his tongue. The sound of Aldner's banter brought him back to the present.


Overhearing Aldner's conversations, Hakan rubbed his head in frustration, stopping himself as he realized he had caught the older man's annoying habit. So there was a missing person. He breathed a sigh of relief that his last victim had not been Nönja. Besides, the clues left behind hinted at something otherworldly had taken her. Hakan caught himself as his arm crept upward once more. He agreed with the hooded man, though he too did not agree with the man's hostile nature. He moved to the edge of the crowd, away from anyone that might hear him.


Hakan cleared his throat unceremoniously at the invisible presence that hovered over his shoulder. "Think you might know what did this?" Unexpected silence. Hakan lifted an eyebrow and turned to look at it. Kind of. Hard to see what you can't see clearly. He could only just make out a slight blur, visible only to him. Shaking his head in annoyance, he moved back towards the well, "Not very cooperative today are you? Even though I fed you." He made the last remark a little harshly, given that the demon knew just how hard it was for Hakan to take care of it. He made his way back to Aldner's side, feeling the tension rising. To be honest, he wouldn't have minded a little tune to lighten the mood up, despite how inappropriate it would be. He flashed the skald a look, reassuring him of his presence before taking a step back to observe the gathered individuals once more.

 

[The One Called X]

"Really, Annika? Not a single- stop squirming! - not a single young man in His Majesty's retinue caught your eye? Some of them are both rich and handsome, you know. Why didn't you like any of them?"


Annika made a conscious effort to still herself before replying. "They were boring. It wasn't that I didn't like them, I didn't feel anything about them at all." Inadvertently, she shifted again. Kristina tugged lightly on the section of hair she was braiding by way of reprimand, before glancing quickly at the baby dozing in her little sister's arms. Satisfied that he was secure, she returned her attention to the blue, red, and gold-colored threads she was braiding into Annika's hair. It was early in the morning, and Kristina had awoken them both to see her husband off on his journey. Annika knew she wasn't at all happy about his leaving- she'd just birthed little Hansel a week ago, and Magnus's presence was a great comfort to her. She was loath to be separated from him, even for a few days, and as such was alternating between pretending he wasn't leaving, and making a fuss. At the moment, she was making a fuss- by the time Annika had finished washing up, Kristina had already donned one of her finer dresses, put up her hair, and adorned herself with tasteful jewelry. She then decreed that Annika was a disaster at choosing dresses and doing her hair, and summarily took the matter into her own hands.


And so Annika found herself seated before Kristina's mirror, dressed in a soft cotton gown, trying not to fidget. The gown was new, dark green, with a brown vest that laced up in front and a neckline that Annika found almost uncomfortably low. It didn't show anything of importance- she had very little importance to show- but it displayed more of her upper chest than any other dress she'd worn. She'd voiced this to Kristina, who'd only laughed- "It's just the fashion, little sister, and rather conservative at that- there are many girls with much more who wear much lower necklines. Don't worry so, it isn't as if men will be driven wild with lust at the sight of your collarbones. Besides, you're a woman now- you won't wear the same fashions as little girls anymore."


Funnily enough, Annika did not feel particularly womanly. She'd traveled up to stay with Kristina to be declared officially marriageable- of course, she could have been betrothed sooner, but it was considered bad form among noble families for a girl to be wed before seventeen or eighteen. She and Kristina had spent three days in Kristina's rooms, not speaking to men, so that Annika could learn various feminine mysteries. As it happened, feminine mysteries mainly involved eating sweets, giggling over handsome young men who did farmwork with no shirts on, horrifically frank accounts of marital relations and childbearing, and a great deal of groaning about having eaten too many sweets. It was shortly after this most solemn and sacred of undertakings that Kristina had borne her second child. So much was different and yet... so much was the same. Kristina was still cheerful and brisk and ever so slightly overwhelming, and Annika still towered over her. Looking in the mirror, she bit her lip a little- Kristina was round-cheeked, and her hair was wavy and honey-brown instead of nearly-black and unmanageably curly. "Besides," she continued, "I don't know if any of them would have liked me, anyway."


Kristina rolled her eyes, tying off the end of Annika's braid. "Nonsense. Look at you- those big doe eyes! Any of them would've married you in a heartbeat." She let the braid fall, the bright threads making it stand out amongst the tumble of curls. It was an old fashion from their home- one braid near the front, and the rest of the hair loose as befitted a young maiden. Kristina adjusted it to her satisfaction, a sly smile spreading across her face. "You're just waiting for some handsome young lordling or prince to spy you from afar and fall passionately in love, like in one of those songs you complain about to everybody and pretend you aren't besotted with."


"I'm not besotted with them!"


"Please. Every time a skald starts singing of some young maiden and a prince or knight or what-have-you your eyes go all misty and you sigh over how romantic it all is-" she looked up, hearing her husband's voice. "Settle Hansel in his cradle, will you? And then come out for breakfast." She bustled out, leaving Annika to try and figure out how to set the child down without waking him. She managed to succeed- his stomach was full, and he slept deeply. She let out a deep breath, before glancing at the corner to the pair of dogs that slept there. The smaller silvery-gray one was Kristina's, brought from home when she married. Her name was Sigunn, and she was a lovely creature, though she was blind and deaf on her left side. Such things were common among the lines of pure gray trollhunds. The other was Fafner, Annika's much-loved companion, and he rose to follow her when she left the room. He was the very model of a trollhund- long-legged and massive, with shaggy brown fur, floppy ears, and a wolfish face. On all fours, his head was level with Annika's waist, and on his hind legs, he was taller than a man. He was a gentle, placid creature, allowing little Nönja to subject him to all manner of indignities without complaint. Annika resolved to make sure she snuck him the best scraps from breakfast. She turned the corner, only to be greeted with an unexpected tableau. Some of the maids were rushing out the door, and others were clustered around an ashen-faced Kristina, who was trying to rise from a chair.


"Kristina?" She asked, rushing to her sister's side. "What's wrong, what's happened?"


"Nönja. It's Nönja. We can't find her. I have to go look-" Annika shook her head, laying her hands on Kristina's shoulders. "Don't, you're still weak from birth. Stay here, I'll go find out what I can." Seeing the disagreement in Kristina's eyes, Annika took her hand. "Go see to Hansel. If Nönja's just wandered off, Fafner and Sigunn will find her easily. If it's something... else, well. You can provide him more protection than anyone." It was common knowledge in their village that mother's milk repelled trolls better than anything else. Annika felt a little guilty, manipulating her with her love and fear for her son, but it was for her own good- she was in no shape to be running around, especially so distraught. Besides that, her point was valid- though it was daylight now, if there were trolls about it was best to guard Hansel. Annika touched the length of braided gray ribbon fastened around her own neck, soaked in herbs and supposed to guard against supernatural harm. She took Kristina's hand as the woman took a deep, shuddery breath. "All-all right. But you must tell me everything when you come back!" Annika nodded, briefly embracing her sister before hurrying out the door, dogs at her heels.


Soon after, she found herself standing at the well. Neither of the dogs had picked up a scent, a bizarre occurrence in its own right. Annika was becoming more fearful with each minute. It was impossibly strange- the fawn, the beads, the footprint. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She'd returned to the house briefly, to update Kristina, and had left Sigunn with her to provide what comfort she could, and now she had little idea of what to do.


Fafner trotted to the fawn, which shied away at first. Annika gasped a little, worried that he might see it as prey. "Fafner, gentle!" she called, turning to run towards them, but she had no reason to fear- the massive beast simply sniffed the tiny fawn from head to toe, wagging his tail slowly. When he finished his investigation, the fawn has lost its fear, touching noses with the big dog before he turned and returned to his mistress. Annika chewed her bottom lip, wondering at the interaction. Trollhunds were uncommonly clever dogs, and Fafner was an uncommonly clever trollhund. He'd found something of interest, she just needed to puzzle out what.


There was more activity by the well, now, and many new arrivals. Two men and a young woman on horseback. A young man leading a horse by the reigns. And, finally, three who seemed to be at the center of the action. One was clearly defensive, his hood covering his face. Annika wasn't sure what to make of him. Another seemed to be on familiar terms with Magnus. The third... he was strange, standing apart from the others. Something about him seemed off to Annika, and she wasn't sure what. As if to confirm her suspicions, Fafner had sprang to attention at the sight of him, staring intently with his ears perked. He sniffed the air deeply, moved closer, and began to growl. Annika started to grow a little worried- there was no way the man hadn't heard Fafner, and the dog's sheer size and ferocious appearance made him impossible to ignore. She lay a hand on Fafner's neck, smiling nervously at the man. "I- I'm terribly sorry, sir, he doesn't do this normally. He- he's usually very gentle and calm- I'll try to get him to settle..." She ducked her head in embarrassment, as Fafner continued to emit a low, steady rumble.

 

[Waverly]

”Hello dear friend. What do you know of this recent tragedy?”


It was Merucla, a peculiar man who lived in the forest not far from where Illwa had grown up. He had moved around quite a lot from what Illwa could tell and knew, but he'd been around for a couple of years by now. In fact, the two had grown to become quite good friends during the years, and as always, Illwa's face showcased a broad smile at the sight of him. But whatever pleasant feelings had filled her from seeing her old friend was quickly replaced again by the odd feeling of something being amiss with Nönja. Illwa took a good while before offering the man an answer to his question, but once she did she was still sporting a warm smile, trying to remain at ease despite the mention of tragedy.


“Merucla! I was worried you'd not make it when you weren't waiting at the bridge. To tell the truth, I was starting to think you overslept.” she said, ending the sentence half-giggling before turning her voice a tad more serious when she continued: “But tragedy you say? Has something happened to Nönja?” Illwa shrugged, but looked around, already having starting to piece things together moments ago, she had now come to fear the worst.


Illwa's father seemed to have picked up on the vibe telling them that something was not right as well. And he pointed towards the growing group of people by the well. “Seems like people are gathering by the well, come on!”

--- --- ---

​

It was clear that Magnus was worried about his daughter, anyone that knew him could tell. His love for his daughter was truly tremendous, and the thought at losing her to troll, elves, bandits or whatever abominations was behind this left him almost shaking in his boots. Still, he smiled and greeted old friends one moment, and in the next he was imagining all the horrible things that might come to pass if Nönja wasn't found. All this made the, otherwise cheerful and jolly Magnus, seem sort of unnatural in his behaviour.


He looked at the Skald. “Aldner, things have been nothing but as ordinary, up until this morning that is...” He paused briefly, took a few steps wounding up in the middle of the group of people, and continued with a much louder voice, as to make everyone listen up: “Cursed be this day, for my sweet daughter Nönja has been taken! And by beasts as ugly and vile as trolls of the northern forest it would seem.” Magnus glanced at the hooded ranger at the mention of trolls, clearly taking his word for it.”We must find her! And we must make haste!”


Then, another voice took tone, this one even more booming than Magnus': “Magnus! We must make haste, but the other way. We're late for the Allthing as is!” It was Aagbiorn, who went straight to business as always, not wasting his time with greeting in a situation as this one. Illwa felt ashamed for her father's comment. How can he even think about that damned leet when Nönja is missing?! But deep inside she knew Aagbiorn was right; Magnus played an important role at the Allthing, and without his presence at the leet, things could really turn sour for people from this part of Midhalpad, Magnus was supposed to be the one to go there and defend the interests of the people he represented, there was just no way around it.


“Aagbiorn? Surely you must be kidding! My poor daughter is out there!” Magnus threw his hand out, pointing towards the northern forest but pinned his gaze on Aagbiorn, sporting some anger in his facial expression. “The Allthing can wait!”

 

[kira blackthorn]

Merucle noticed his friends struggle to maintain her smile as she answered and went grimm as they approached where Magnus stood with others by the well. So Illwa has yet to hear of Nönja's fate. She shall be quiet worried when she discovers it. Though, I shall not inform her as it seems Magnus will do the honors.





Nodding to Magnus he listened to him explain the recent tragedy as he absently rubbed Bilbos neck soothingly. The horse sensed the negative emotions in the air and was dancing in place and tossing his head in agitation. Hearing Aagbiorns words he paused to shoot him an incredulous look. I do hope he is kidding. Magnus shall have no desire to go to the Allthing while his daughter is missing. No matter the consequences.


Seeing that Magnus agreed with him he decided to speak up. I shall try to sooth Magnus and hope that this issue could be resolved quickly. Hopefully before the girls fate is decided. " Of course the Allthing can wait. I am sure Aagbiorns means no offence. He is probably just worried about the consequences of not going to the Allthing."

 

[Cannibal]

Growling? Growling. Something was growling at him? Hakan turned to see what it was and almost jumped out of his skin. He shuffled out of the way nervously to make way for the girl and her extraordinarily large pet. It was no wonder his friend had kept quiet. One word and that beast would be making all sorts of noise. Dogs were known to be aware of otherworldly creatures, trollhunds being exceptionally keen. He put his hand out in a non-threatening manner, palm turned up, to convince the dog that he meant no harm as it approached with its owner. He took a closer look at her, marveling at her stark contrast to the other women he's seen before ducking his head too in embarrassment. Hakan had very little experience with the opposite sex, usually avoiding interaction unless it was necessary. The pretty girl in combination with the dog made the words fumble from his mouth.


"No, it's fine," Hakan laughed sheepishly. "I'm quite used to it. Animals don't seem to like me all that much." He reached out to the trollhund but thought better of it, the growling intensified, and clasped his hands awkwardly together. He gave the girl a resigned smile and fell silent, at a loss for further words. He hoped the old man wasn't watching, the skald poked fun at him enough as is. At least she seemed pretty normal, had the dog belonged to someone of a keener disposition he'd be in quite the predicament. With this he should be able to avoid too much attention. Hopefully. Maybe.


Hakan glanced at the dog again. Could it track the missing girl? It was a dog after all. The beast didn't look specially trained, but it was better than nothing. "Do you think your friend can track the missing girl's scent?" he asked abruptly, eyes glinting with curiousity. He was eager to see the hound in action, despite his initial fear. "Oh- Excuse me, my name's Hakan." He gave his name, albeit reluctantly. He didn't want to scare her off. He extended his hand and dropped it once more, both in fear of the dog and the fear that his chilled touch would frighten her needlessly. Hakan tried to play it off with another smile, his inner self screaming with embarrassment. This is why he stayed away from people.

 

[The One Called X]

"...animals don't seem to like me all that much."


Annika felt a rush of sympathy at the young man's words. He was unusual in appearance, true- his clothes spoke of odd origins and long days of difficult travel, and his face and skin bore the marks of a rough life, and he was rather taller than most men she knew. He did give off a... strange... aura, that sat in the back of Annika's mind in a way that she could not quite grasp. His words and behavior, however, were quite ordinary and understandable. She grasped the woven collar around Fafner's neck, and was immediately glad she'd done so after the young man's attempt at contact, feeling the dog's hackles rise. She was a little perplexed- most people would have backed away in the face of such a big, angry dog, but aside from being a bit discomfited, the young man- Hakan, as he introduced himself- had recovered his composure remarkably fast. Annika couldn't help but be a little impressed, and amused at his awkwardness. She gave him a brief, bright smile. First things first, though. "Fafner. Enough."


The effect was instantaneous. The thunderous growling cut off abruptly, and Fafner grudgingly relaxed out of attack position. He kept his head down, tail lashing slowly from side to side, his focus never straying from Hakan. "Sit." Annika's tone was still firm, commanding. Fafner knew that tone, the one which brooked no argument. He sat, somehow conveying resentment in the motion. Annika rubbed his ears, letting him know she was pleased with him, and he leaned heavily against her leg. Though she could never be truly harsh, and he was babied more often than not, she had taken care to be firm on certain things with him when he was a puppy. She had been only fourteen, but she keenly understood the importance of ensuring his manageability. She'd seen her brother Lukas fail to do the same with his pup, who had grown into a surly beast, running wild, growling, and finally, biting. It had ended tragically- not in the least for the poor dog, who was put down without even knowing that he had done wrong. Granted, Lukas' dog had been from the Silver lines, and vicious tempers were nearly as common as blindness and deafness- Sigunn was fortunate to only be afflicted by the latter two. Fafner was lucky enough to be spared from such noble beginnings, born in the stables and intended to be a working-dog until he charmed Annika with his liquid brown eyes and clumsy gentleness.


The dog's behavior having been properly managed- though he continued to watch Hakan intently- Annika moved on to answering the man's question. "I'm Annika, it's nice to meet you," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've already tried tracking... neither Fafner nor Sigunn- that's my sister's dog, she's an excellent tracker- could find a scent, which is nearly as strange as... well, everything that's happened today. Something is terribly, terribly wrong. She can't have just run off, the dogs would've found her, and if a human had taken her... she was in the house, with my sister and her husband... and if it was something else, trolls or elves, or, or- I don't know what..." she trailed off, wrapping her arms around her middle, suddenly having to blink back tears. "I'm sorry. Nönja is my niece, I'm awfully worried for her." She had kept her distress at bay by keeping busy, and relaying the events had forced her to slow down and think of it all just long enough that she was almost overwhelmed. She forced her breathing to slow, made herself turn her focus outward, to pay attention to Magnus.


She felt an unwarranted, uncharacteristic flash of irritation at his words- of-bloody-course they must find her and make haste. What did he think they were all doing, running about like headless chickens? It was unfair of her, she knew- he loved Nönja dearly, and had to be terrified for her. Still, her annoyance deepened at all the talk of the Allthing- a child's life was at stake, and they were concerned about a leet? Typical men. She gritted her teeth, then shook her head to clear it. Well, then. If they were going to be half-wits about everything, someone should speak up and at least make a decent suggestion. Raising her voice to be heard above the crowd, she called out to her brother-in-law. "Magnus, perhaps it might be possible to send word ahead that you might be late? It's a show of courtesy, if nothing else, and-" she cut herself off. What did she think she was doing? She knew nothing of politics. It seemed like common sense to her, and she hoped she was right... but still, it was never wise to opine too strongly when one did not know the subject of one's opinion. Besides, she could not recall a time when speaking out of annoyance had worked out for her. She looked down, letting her hair cover her face, and gave Hakan an evaluating look from under her lashes. Perhaps if things got too embarrassing she could hide behind him- he certainly cut an unusual enough figure to distract from her, if need be.


It was a comforting thought, despite being perfectly ridiculous.

 

[Irubus]

"Aagbiorn!" Aldner let out in a rough voice behind Magnus' own distraught exclamations. "You of all people should understand, what if something were to happen to your daughter?!" Turning towards those gathered, to gain their support, he finally noticed Illwa's presence among them and instantly caused him to regret his outcry. Quickly giving the girl a light bow in apology he followed it up with his own words "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in any implying way." He'd never wish for anything to happen to either of them, but the man's statement had caused enough momentary rage that he failed to watch his tongue.


Turning back to Illwa's father he let his scowl settle and cleared his throat before continuing. "Aagbiorn, any of those who will be gathering would understand. Days are spent celebrating and accomplishing nothing at the Althing. regardless of the circumstances, having those days come early should be no issue while we recover Nönja. Magnus is far too important for them to not accept it." Letting out a sigh he took a look at the forest as if almost hoping Nönja would appear before them and all of this would remain as a bad dream. There was also that irking feeling inside him that couldn't help but agree with Aagbiorn, though not as upfront about it; Magnus was needed there for his people.


Regrettably Aldner had to continue as he heard Annika and one other voice their own opinions from behind them; if only short lived as it drifted off. "They're right but... I do understand what you mean as well Aagbiorn. They do need you there Magnus." Placing his hand on the man's shoulder he gave him a nod despite the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Magnus was more aware of his responsibility than any other person he'd ever known, and this situation would change nothing about that. "Like she suggested you should send someone ahead and search with us, but after a few days you know you must go to the Althing, whether or not we've found her." Closing his eyes he shook his head at the thought. "I pray that it wont happen... but those who go shall inherit your will and continue to look for her, I promise you friend, and I am sorry for these selfless actions we are asking of you to do."


He could see hesitation in his old friend's eyes and he stepped slightly closer to his ear "But I will stand with you if you choose your daughter." Stepping back while the man mulled over his own thoughts he scanned over the situation. He could only imagine how his old friend must be feeling at the moment. Amidst all of this he was surprised to find his younger companion had been conversing with the beautifully Annika, who now seemed to be hiding herself behind Hakan. The skald had always found the young girl to be pleasant and truly enjoyed the fact she was someone who loved his stories.


"Annika, Illwa, Hakan." Catching their eyes he kept his trust to those who knew him more personally. "and anyone else who could help them, would you mind regrouping everyone in the farm, gather all the information we know, and form a search party. We'll settle this Althing issue and then we'll start looking in a bit, please." Aldner ordered out in an authoritative voice to the younger group before turning back to Magnus. He gestured to Aabiorn to come closer so they could discuss more quietly.


"Aagbiorn, Magnus, can we settle this inside somewhere, we can't start anything unless if we settle on a plan and rid ourselves of these minor issues, we don't want to argue out here and cause everyone else to lose their wits." While, not being blood related to Magnus, he had seen Nönja grow up and had been apart of their lives much more than many others could say, he almost considered him to be a brother and her as a niece. It was already unsettling him how much time may have passed since she had actually been taken.

 

[Waverly]

Illwa knew her father well, he was a practical man who didn't bother repeating the same argument over and over. And she knew that he was seeing the big picture, where Magnus absence at the Allthing could be followed by far worse consequences than one lost child. But despite this, she could not agree with her father; she was far more emotionally oriented than him, and apparently so was the rest of the group gathered around the well at Jorulvsson farm this day. But Aagbiorn held his head high despite the fact that everyone seemed to disagree with him. And he nodded slowly, agreeing to what the Skald had purposed. The three of them could settle things inside, where the inexperienced and naïve youth wouldn't cloud Magnus' mind.


“I will have you know, that I am not joking. The Allthing is serious matters whether your realise it or not!” Aagbiorn said as he let his gaze wander from Merucla to Annika while he dismounted, finally fixing his gaze at Magnus while handing the reins to Varg who took them as soon as he had also dismounted. “But Aldner is right, we can reason and settle this inside.” Aagbiorn continued as he stepped up to Magnus and Aldner who had motioned for him.


Magnus placed his hand on Aagbiorns shoulder and the two nodded at each-other as a more proper way of greeting, but it was clear that Magnus was not happy about the situation. Heck, he was wondering why he wasn't in the forest looking for Nönja already, and now he'd have to sit down and discuss the matter before setting out?! At any rate, he figured that Illwa, Annika and Hakan – Aldner's new travelling companion – would make the necessary preparations in order for all of them to start tracking down Nönja and her captor in the forest.

--- --- ---

​

Illwa watched as her father was lead inside the long-house by Magnus and Aldner. As always, the men will settle things without hearing what we have to say about matters! She wasn't really angry about the fact that she herself wasn't let in on the decision-making, but the fact that Varg was treated as a serf was something that really bothered her. How was he supposed to learn from father and Magnus if he wasn't considered a grown man just like them? He was of age after all.


Illwa looked at her brother, as he was standing there with the reins in hand. He was looking around as if he didn't know what to do, like if he found himself in the situation. Illwa could see it clearly; Varg sure wasn't the reflection of their big and bulky father, in fact, Varg was barely broader by the shoulders than Illwa. But did that matter in situations as these? No, Varg had always been cunning and clever, understanding and reasonable. If anything, he should be in there with Magnus, Aldner and Aagbiorn, that much was clear to Illwa.


“Varg, picket the horses and go to father. You're on this journey to learn politics, and this is an excellent opportunity.” She ordered him in a rather authoritative way as she handed him the reins of Fjalar as well. And as she had predicted, Varg did just what she had told him, without even questioning it. All he did was to nod without saying anything. Illwa shook her head at this – another of Varg's weaknesses. What will become of your brother? Taking orders from your sister without question...


While Varg was picketing the horses Illwa turned to the people that where still by the well. She put on the leather cap and visor that served as her headgear while hunting and when in combat. Her angelic face turned into the very picture of a warrior once the visor was in place and covered it's usual frame that was her braided blonde hair. Illwa was, in difference from her brother, used to take responsibility and was quick to action, and as such she spoke up: “You heard what Aldner said, we need to ready up to take to the forest. But first, someone tell me what we know so far? Are we sure that Nönja's been taken by trolls? I heard something about beads and a footprint?”

--- --- ---

​

Magnus led Aagbiorn and Aldner to the his table in the main hall and took his seat. It was a big wooden seat that stood a bit higher then the others around the table. It was decorated by many ornaments, making it almost look like a throne. Every farm in Midhalpad had a seat in this fashion, and it was reserved for the patron of the farm only – for the patron was truly the one who ruled his own lands. He made a gesture, welcoming Magnus and Aagbiorn to the table. His face was still just as worried as before and it was easy to determine from his tone that he wanted this over with quick.


“Now, what is there to settle? Anyone can tell what needs to be done, yet you tell me to leave for Silangir, Aagbiorn?”


“Don't take me for a fool Magnus, for I certainly don't take your for one! You know that the Allthing will be waiting for us already as it is. And you know, better than most, what your voice is worth at the leet. You know that if we don't hold our ground the idiots in Silangir will have these lands fall in Sverjian hands again. Or worse...”


Aagbiorn paused briefly before continuing, “I know it is much to ask, but I ask it from you only because there is much reason too. Come with me to the Silangir, and I shall leave Illwa to help look for your daughter in your place. She knows these forests well and cares dearly for Nönja, if anyone can find your daughter it is her!”

 

[Killigrew]

Katla
​

The wind curled at the ends of her burnt hair, teasing stubborn strands free to reach at the jewels in the sky.


The man walked ahead of her, his bright hair atwinkle. He shone like the moon. He was a mirror for the sunlight, and her chest swelled in tandem with her admiring eyes. Arnkatla followed the elf man not two steps behind.


Daydreaming through the arduous tread of travel had been made a habit. Time trickled through her head, a shadow in the wonder of the exotic. Katla no longer counted the days; she counted the times Xanaster's lids lowered to make an angle that spread the length of his lashes. She marked the gall that compelled her to peer at this mystic creature, the enchantment that made her eyes tireless to study the strange sunset color of his angular eyes, and watch the motion of the thin blades of his hair, loose, fallen down his shoulders.


He was a slim creature. Nothing like the robust boys she had known, not like the shepherds that tended their sheep, nor the guardsman that overlooked the walls of Hrafn's Keep. No bush of beard scuffed his cheeks, nor hid the strength of his jaw. His fingers were long and delicate, and took hold of things with a gentleman's care. Nothing in his appearance told of danger.


Yet she had seen the fire bloom in his hands, and go from there to tear and consume the flesh of wicked men.


The fear she knew in the memory did not turn her from him. It made her want to know him more.


Her eyes were burning a hole into his back, and it slowly dawned on her that she went too far. Katla ducked her head ere he look back at her and perceive the intensity of her gaze. Her left hand covered her right, and tugged the sleeve further down, so that the scarred skin would not show. Distraction made her step careless. A stone caught her toe, and she stumbled, her feet shuffling across the dirt path.


Her balance maintained, but she could not keep the grimace from creasing her countenance.


Dust and walking had shred tears across her worn leather boots. Though she sewed the holes shut every night, it was getting worse every day. The leather cast across the boots was more rags now, and she doubted it would last even if the place they sought was only another bend in the road away, as the passerby had claimed.


Blood was starting to chafe against those tears, and the leather dug into her open cuts with every step. Katla tried not to think about it, and let out a slow, concentrated breath through her teeth. When she opened her eyes, the thatched roof of the farmstead was in sight.


But that did not mean rest would come so easy.


Two days were spent watching those that came two and fro from the place. The man that possessed this place was a prominent, perhaps the most prominent leader, and held strong sway at the Althing. He could show what this land was made of, and what men would be respected. If this information proved useful to Xanaster, Katla would find herself worthwhile, so she listened with an avid ear, and in the net of her listening heard tell of Althings past, and Magnus' ability to contain the crowd, and hold to the law. Xanaster did not want to go in, for fear his face would be seen. By day, Katla met with the folk at Jorulvsson farmstead to trade for food and water, and found cloth to bind her feet, but she spent the nights beside the crisp warmth of a fire, with furtive glances seeing how the flickering light glowed happy colors across Xanaster's long silver hair as she hummed and sewed the cloth to leather.


On the dawning of the third day, Xanaster drew his hood close to his face, and they entered therein together. They were not far along until a robust shout touched her ears. It was rhythmic, continuous -- a name.


Nönja.


"Nönja?" Katla whispered. She shook her head quickly, an apology for Xanaster's sake written in the hanging of her head. "I believe it is a name, but I know it not."


They stood in the narrow space between two haybarrels, watching men and women hasten to and fro, seeking someone -- someone valuable. Katla knew this must be of interest to Xanaster, and kept her ears pricked for understanding.


"The chieftain's daughter," She reported as she heard it, in a low voice. "Magnus' daughter."


Her wandering gaze found the well, and saw that a crowd was growing around it. Katla's head tilted up as she was reminded of the gossips behind Hrafn's castle walls, and the way they clutched to their well as though it would nurture the hateful words they spread.


"If I am to find loose tongues, I need not look farther than the wives that draw water." Katla said, and set out for it. She kept one hand at her belt as she walked, careful not to let the thief's brand be seen. Even if it was not the practice here, Katla did not want to risk being run out of this place, nor blamed for whatever crime now held its populace in such fearful grip.


She walked to the rightmost border of the handful of people, out of immediate attention, but more than close enough to eavesdrop. She leaned over to grab at the rope with one hand, and tug the bucket towards her. Her face was a mask of casual interest, the lips drawn in the tugging of a near-smile, her eyes sparked with the intrigue. It was not hard to emulate -- the atmosphere of the crowd had a quality of energy that made her want to breathe deep and contain that brave electric sensation.


Well, trolls had not been the first conclusion she'd drawn from this. Katla could not keep her head from turning around as she heard the species clearly mentioned.


Now why would a troll seek out a chieftain's daughter in his own home? The very idea was preposterous.


So Katla snorted.

 

[Ire]

Xanaster

• The Meeting of Arnkatla
• Present Day

• Traveling southeast from the northwestern-most region of Lapunia had not been an easy task, and that was obvious by the entire situation he was thrown into. Still new to the outside world at the time, Xanaster knew nothing about bandits, criminals, and outlaws. When he tried to cross a bridge over a small rushing stream and was approached by six men with hands on the hilts of their weapons, he thought nothing of it. He had watched some villages from afar, and they could’ve been guards for all he knew. Pulling his hood low to conceal his elven countenance, he trudged past them without a second thought.
  
  
  Of course, his ignorance of the scenario itself and his astounding courage and lack of fear brought forth shock and awe from the bandits arming the bridge. It seemed like they’d let him pass, but soon their shouts and inflammatory remarks were thrown his way. And then something was fired his way—an arrow. It had pierced his left shoulder and made him crumble to the floor in agony.
  
  
  Throughout his entire life, that had been the first time he had ever been attacked. Even the elves when he had burned down the White Oak Tree had not assaulted him in such a manner. He remembered looking sideward at his dangerously-wounded shoulder, the bloodied arrowhead visible through the front of his chest. Pain overwhelmed him, and the sanguinary stream that began dampening his leather tunic made his orange eyes swoon.
  
  
  He heard the crunching of boots on the tough dirt as the bandits approached. At that moment, Xanaster lost control of himself and his pain forfeited to numbness. He remembered turning around and opening the palm of his right hand, relying on that only hand to save him since his left had gone limp. Fire spewed forth from his right hand, engulfing the two men approaching him in a wave of flame.
  
  
  Even through the torturous feelings that emitted from his left shoulder, Xanaster smiled at the sight of his assailants burning and screaming as they tried to put out the magical pyre. The other bandits near the bridge, nearly forty yards away, had seen the spectacle and were backing up slowly before turning tail and fleeing. Wind weaving was not a mystery of the world that casual bandits dealt with, and the two bandits that slowly burned alive learned that lesson today, though it would be the final lesson of their natural lives.
  
  
  When the adrenaline was gone, and Xanaster was left to wander away from the scene, he found himself in the fields east of the bridge. But even though his determination and tolerance for pain was admirable, he fell onto the lush grass and was overcome by the darkness of unconsciousness.
  
  
  _,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,_
  
  ​
  
  
  
  The silver-haired half-elf awakened in a congested cottage with aging wooden planks for floorboards. He lay in a single bed that was embarrassingly too small for him—the long legs of his six foot and two inch spectrum hung off the side of the bed by a full foot or so. His eyes were heavy and they sluggishly glanced to the left to look at his shoulder. It was bandaged tightly, and the white bandage was stained with brown-colored, dried blood. The ache in the shoulder remained, and he estimated that it would for the next week or two.
  
  
  Despite the pain, he propelled himself upward into a sitting position on the petite bed, groaning all the while. As he finished the motion, his bright orange eyes surveyed the scene before him. A red-haired woman was approaching him, as she had just noticed his awakening. There was an elderly woman in the impoverished abode as well, though she was stirring a soup… or maybe it was a porridge… though it could have been a stew. Her hands were old and wrinkled, and her eyes were milky and desolate.
  
  
  Finally, Xanaster’s eyes returned to the woman with burnt orange hair. She came to her knees beside him, a bowl cupped in her hands. Her eyes were wide, and her lips slowly curved into a smile.
  
  
  “You’re awake,” she whispered. Her comment, though, was unnecessary; he was obviously conscious. The smile she had boasted gave off a multitude of peculiar signs as well. He had just been shot with an arrow and was heavily wounded, yet she was… happy? It perplexed him. Xanaster was not familiar with the facial expressions of humans, for he had lived around the very different elves all of his life.
  
  
  The old woman wheeled around, exclaiming aloud “HUH?” and the woman shushed her. The elder turned back to her labor, grumbling.
  
  
  “I imagine you must be confused,” she continued in a low voice. “Waking up in such a strange place would do that to anyone. One of my sheep found you collapsed, and it was I that brought you here. The arrow in your shoulder,” she reached out towards the wound, and then her hand retracted to hasten back to its grip on the bowl. “It’s been pulled out. Hazy fever has held you in its grip for two days, but you pulled through. Still, try not to move too much. I don’t think you’re in any condition to travel.”
  
  
  “Who are you talking to?” The elderly woman called out, speaking loudly like one weak of hearing.
  
  
  Instead of answering the older woman’s obvious question, Xanaster found himself looking into the dark blue irises of the woman who had nursed him back to manageable health. She ignored the elderly woman completely, which was completely and utterly rude, but frankly he found it pleasing. The older woman seemed fairly useless in the setting, and he was the focus of her attention.
  
  
  “I’m not going to sit cooped up in this worn-down cottage for two weeks. I will travel soon,” Xanaster said, his stare intent and his lips thin.
  
  
  She blinked, and lowered her gaze. “There’s nowhere I can take you. This village only has a monastery nearby—there might be a farm or some inn, but not for days’ travel, and no road to guide by.” She sighed, her thumbs rubbing along the edge of the wood bowl. “I confess, I wouldn’t know the way.”
  
  
  “It’s fine,” Xanaster replied abruptly. “I guess it was enough that you found me out in that field, or your sheep, when you did. I have no qualms with you. I only ask that you speed up my recovery as much as you can.” As he finished his sentence, he lowered his gaze from the fixating stare of the woman. He peered downward at his right hand, and thoughts of how he had burned the two bandits alive returned to his mind. Thoughts of vengeance began to stir within him as he felt the incessant ache of the arrow wound. For an instance, he found himself lost from the dialogue that he had been engaging in. But he soon returned as she spoke again.
  
  
  The sheen of a bowl cut by candlelight pushed into his vision, and he turned his head to see that she now stood. Her eyes flickered when their gaze met, and her head tilted downward. “It’s only porridge, with some mutton mixed in. Please, eat your fill, and if you need more, you need only ask for it.”
  
  
  The woman turned away, to take over the stirring of the pot. The elder woman shakily moved away to sit by beside the fireplace, patting her hands on the surface of the table until she found the knitting needles, and with them in her grasp, took on the clicking pace of needlework.
  
  
  With the bowl of porridge in his right hand, Xanaster finally discovered the severity of his injury. His left arm was useless in such a state, and he was forced to eat with one hand. As he slurped up the homemade porridge, his orange eyes sought out the visage of the red-haired woman. Porridge filling his mouth, he asked a sloppy question: “What is your name?”
  
  
  “Katla,” she said quickly, and loudly enough for the old woman to notice. The elder wrinkled her face in confusion, shaking her head at Katla’s exclamation. Katla, for her part, lowered her voice to a loud whisper as she mixed the pot, stealing a backward glance. “Tell me, traveller. What is yours?”
  
  
  “I’ve been called Xanaster since birth,” he answered quickly, his slurping noises adding to the cacophony of the room.
  
  
  “A foreign name, that. I’ve never heard the like.” The smile on her face only widened, and when she stole another look, she was bolder, even smug in her demeanor.
  
  
  “And I doubt you ever will again,” he replied, leaning over to set the bowl against the floor. Xanaster felt the ache in his bones, and let out a long, exhausted breath. As he lay back in the hay-stuffed bed, sleep’s shadow overcame him swiftly.
  
  
  _,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,__,.•''¯''•.,_
  
  ​
  
  
  
  Several days passed of sleeping and healing, and Xanaster found himself imprisoned like a small animal in the crowded cottage. As another evening came upon Xanaster, Katla, and the elderly woman, the half-elf awoke from a feigned slumber as the other two continued to be enthralled by peaceful sleep. His shoulder, while still providing a stinging pain every now and again, was much better than it had been days before.
  
  
  Rising from the trivial bed, Xanaster was sure not to allow the bed to creak and groan. He ascended to his feet apathetically, and began gathering his gear. For the entirety of his stay with Katla and the old woman, he had been disrobed from the waist up. The paleness of his chest and arms had been revealed to the red-haired woman, and that notion alone made him feel uncomfortable. To be looked upon in one’s rawness was to be vulnerable, and vulnerability was something Xanaster never desired to feel.
  
  
  Fully dressed in his newly-washed apparel, the elf-blood departed from the cottage, leaving no payment for the nursing of his body, and no sign of thanks that he ever required it. The flesh of his face and hands felt the immediate wind of the outside air as he exited the humble abode. His silver hair began to flail in the gusts, and its incandescent nature caught the light of the silver moon that hung low in the sky.
  
  
  While Xanaster had experienced his fill of lying helpless in a beaten-down hovel, thoughts of vengeance and resentment focused around the still-living bandits that had caused him to be bed-ridden for so long. With haste in his step, he followed his memory back to the stone bridge where he had been attacked.
  
  
  Upon reaching the location, the bandits were not stationed at the bridge itself, but a campfire loomed eighty yards away. He approached the site, and four seated silhouettes came into view—the four bandits that remained from the original six that had wounded him.
  
  
  The inferno returning to his orange, sparkling eyes, Xanaster’s pace quickened as he neared the pitiful encampment. The bandits laughed and drank rum, not caring for the world, but when one of the half-elf’s boots crunched against a stick, it caught their attention. It was already too late however.
  
  
  They had no time to speak. They had no time to react or brandish their weapons. All they knew was fire. It engulfed their tents, overpowered their campfire, and burned them alive. The camp of the bandits became a raging ball of fire, and that was all they knew before their bodies slowly charred and their minds melted.
  
  
  A rustle sounded behind Xanaster at that moment, and the half-elf swung around swiftly, his hands ready to produce flames that would claim another victim. But the person he saw was not a bandit. It was Katla, the red-haired woman from the cottage. She had followed him? His hands lowered slowly, the inferno of the camp crackling behind him, highlighting the orange of his irises. The wind of the night allowed the fire to remain, and it blew his silver hair into a torrent of routines as he narrowed his eyes at Arnkatla. “Why did you follow me?” He called out, shouting over the thunderous roar of the blaze.
  
  
  She bore quite an odd look. Was it shock, consternation, or perhaps awe? She fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt, concealing her right hand by covering it with her left and tugging down the sleeve itself. She stammered at first, before articulating a question. “Are you actually an elf?”
  
  
  Xanaster smirked slightly, lowering his guard and relaxing his demeanor. “Only my mother was. My father was a great Lapun man,” he explained, turning back around to look into the slowly-diminishing fire.
  
  
  She explained how much he interested her. She fell to her knees, pleading to go with him. Her eyes wavered, and she seemed on the edge of an emotional breakdown. Xanaster was the closest thing to an elf in a world ruled by men. He was a weaver of the winds. He was a soul determined to become more than he was. She wanted to travel with him, and at first, he found it a preposterous notion. As he thought more on it, however, he discovered the positives of what Katla could offer. She could venture into human locations he could not. She could keep them well-fed, clothed, and she knew the layout of the land more than he.
  
  
  Through much thought, he found potential in her, and so Xanaster and Arnkatla became traveling companions. Two souls ready to face the world, though with Xanaster leading the way, as it would always be. Katla made that very clear when she had fallen upon her knees in front of him.
• Over six weeks had passed since Katla had saved his life, and it was six weeks that Katla had been accompanying the half-elf.
  
  
  The last two days had been utterly boring, for he had been watching the Jorulvsson Farmstead aimlessly while Katla collected resources and information from the trivial settlement. Arnkatla was the one, as a human, to enter civilized areas and ask questions, or seek out prominent individuals. This was something Xanaster could not do, for his features were obviously, even at a first glance, elvish in nature. The elves, as Xanaster quickly learned from his journey, were hated and feared by the commonfolk of the realms. It was irritating and troublesome for the curious and power-seeking Xanaster.
  
  
  During those two days, however, Xanaster did experience something extremely odd. Both nights, during his sleep, he dreamt of peculiar events. A chieftain, a girl, a plot. What normally would be surreal became vivid and life-like. It troubled his thoughts, but the dreams were not the only thing on his mind.
  
  
  Driven by a desire to observe, or even attend, the Allthing in time for Midsummer’s Eve, Xanaster was on a tight schedule. Both events were in a fortnight. The weaving of the winds was at its most powerful, and most dangerous, on Midsummer’s Eve, and if he could find an elder at the Allthing who was a prestigious wind weaver, he perhaps could be taught some of the more powerful spells ever known to exist in the world.
  
  
  When the third day came, Katla and him made their way to Jorulvsson Farm together. Traveling with Katla meandering beside him, they obscured their position between two haybarrels. Men and women passed them by, and Xanaster was sure to pull his hood as tightly to his countenance as possible. The only feature of his elvish anatomy noticeable was his silver hair, but he would never cut it. Even though he had been exiled from his elvish homeland, he still cherished the very idea of it. Elves were powerful, and the longer the hair of an elf, the more revered they were among their peers.
  
  
  A name was caught by the ears of both he and Katla, and while neither knew who Nönja was at first, Katla soon picked up on the identity of the name. She was the daughter of the chieftain, Magnus. The two facts caught him off-guard immediately, reminding him of his dreams that had plagued his slumber the past two nights. His eyes squinted and his cheekbones raised, his lips curled in perplexity. He said nothing of the matter though. Not to Katla, not to anyone.
  
  
  Lost in his own ponderings, Xanaster completely lost the sound of Katla’s voice. The next thing he knew, she was approaching a throng of women gathered around a well. He sneered violently, wanting to follow but knowing that his face would stir up trouble and ruin everything he yearned for at this point in time.
  
  
  And so he waited, his eyes wandering but his configuration remaining in the shadow created by the haybarrels.

 

[kira blackthorn]

Stepping back into the gathered crowd as others expressed their opinions on the issue and the three men left Merucle waited. As expected soon after their leave Illwa took over. She had always had a warriors spirit. One that would not stand aside and wait for the men to make decisions. Once it had amused him but after an accident when he still lived with his mother he grew to respect it. She was scary when angry.


Stepping forward Merucle allowed himself to relax slightly as he spoke. Being tense often takes more energy out of him them being relaxed does and right now he needs all the energy he can. "When I arrived I was told that Magnus daughter was missing. From the evidence left behind they concluded it was of supernatural organs. Trolls may be weak in their desire for woman and children but they do not often put this much effort into their kidnappings and usually leave much evidence. Staying that this is not their doing so I believe it was the work of another. And to narrow our search to supernatural creatures would be foolish. I believe we should look into anyone that would be able to do this."

 

[Irubus]

Aldner remained silent as Aagbiorn voiced his position to Magnus. He couldn't blame the man for thinking the way he was and in the grand scheme of things he had to agree with him; the position of the territory impacted more people than anything a single missing person would. "Why must this happen all at once..." Aldner murmured to himself as he rubbed the strain that was building in his brow. "Aagbiorn, just like I said outside you know full well what you're asking him to do. No man should just leave their kin like this. Let alone a daughter. I still stand by my case that he should come with us for a couple of days. Whether you like it or not, what he does is not your choice." Letting his staff settle on his lap he began to slide his fingers across its surface as his mind pondered over why the situation had occurred. It had been the first time he had heard of trolls lingering this close to Magnus' home. From his understanding and what he had heard over the years midsummer did at times spark activity within those tuned to sense it. He had been especially watchful of his companion as this time was approaching, but he had yet to notice anything that would draw a complete conclusion... though, he had some suspicions. His insight was more than happy to uncover the details of his companion on his own. It was at these moments he wished he could simply make it work on his behalf without having to wait.


Midsummer will not be celebrated underground this year. A slithering whisper crept Aldner's ears without warning and a slight chill made its way up his spine. He gave the other two a glance and noticed they were still conversing on the minor details of the pros and cons of going. What was different about this year that would spur a change in celebration?


At the moment he couldn't bear the message much thought, and instead attempted to put a halt to the meeting just as Magnus was reaching his end.


"... I'm done conversing with you Aagbiorn! Regardless of what you say about your daughter, I will find my own and skin the creature that took her myself!" Magnus exclaimed; slamming his fists onto the table top. It rattled for a second before he raised himself from his sitting position and motioned towards. "Magnus!" Aldner yelled at the man catching him roughly by the shoulder and attempted to avoid cornering him. "You don't know what we're up against yet, and who knows how far this creature, if it even is one, has gone. We might not even be able to fight it alone with whatever we can muster from this party. You know there is seldom a single wave in any voyage. If we do this bare we might cause more trouble for nearby farms and towns." Stepping back Aldner let the man have his space as he seemed to take in his words while his body language seemed ready to explode. Hitting the wall once again he let his frustrations slightly vent as he made his choice.


"I will go to the Althing and return with steel at my call, these creatures or whoever has her will learn what it means to have something taken from them!" Magnus stepped out causing Aldner to lose sight of him for a few moments. Aagbiorn had nodded in approval to the threat and had fallen into step behind Magnus. Being left alone, Aldner sucked in a deep breath before stepping out as well. The crowd had slightly dispersed from what he could tell while a few could still be seen out in the tree lines looking for tracks or anything that could be considered a clue. The remaining members by the well still seemed to be conversing, and Aldner made his way towards them.


"I know our meeting didn't last long, but do you have anything we can go off of?" Looking at the small group, he gave them a sympathetic look as despite everything, it didn't seem that much had been accomplished beyond what they already knew. A fawn, beads, and a foot print.

 

[Waverly]

Illwa had noticed how one of the women by the well snorted at hearing her father's opinion about the Allthing. And for some reason Illwa had a hard time really lifting her gaze from this woman, it would seem to always dart back to her as Illwa spoke the to group of people. Perhaps it was because she'd never before seen this woman? Or was it her appearance that caught Illwa's attention somehow? The woman in question wore patched up leather shoes, dirty from days of walking in mud, and she looked somehow worn down. A wanderer? What is she doing here? At any rate, Illwa did not let it get to her, and she continued:


“Merucla is right!” Illwa said, offering her friend a moment in her gaze. “We shall not take it for granted that whoever has poor Nönja is either troll nor any other creature of the forest. But it matters little what-...” She interrupted herself when she saw Magnus and Aagbiorn over by the long-house, already leaving after their short meeting. She looked at them as they both were walking up to Varg, who was then ordered to untie the horses again. They're leaving?


“I know our meeting didn't last long, but do you have anything we can go off of?”


It was the Aldner, the skald, who had returned to well again. Illwa looked at him as she provided an answer: “Nothing new, but since we've got both beads and a footprint providing us with a direction. Ask me, and I say that tracking whoever took her is our best bet. The forest, both branches and ground is wet from yesterdays storm, and will provide us with all we need to track and follow whoever kidnapped Nönja. And then there is the hound, it surely will manage to pick up and follow the scent. All we need is to get everyone ready, it might be a long trip.” She cast an eye skyward, looking at the clear blue sky. If there were only a few clouds last time she looked, they sure were all gone by now. Not a single one was in view any longer, meaning there was little chance of more rain today and that the scent would still be easy for the hound to pick up. But then again, spring and summer in Midhalpad were both known for their unruly and unpredictable weather.


Illwa turned to the skald again. “What did you, Magnus and father settle for? Magnus is going to remain here and look for Nönja, is he not?” For some reason she felt that she already knew the answer. Magnus had been headed towards the stables, probably to get his horse ready for the journey. Illwa's brother and father was already mounted again, but something was off. Why didn't they call for her to get ready as well? And why in the world hadn't Varg untied Fjalar? Are they leaving without me?! The thought scared Illwa, for she didn't want to miss out on the trip to Silangir – a rare chance to see the world and meet new people. It was an opportunity for her to get ahead with her, what felt already too delayed, life.

 

[Cannibal]

Hakan stared at Annika, a little surprised at her sudden outburst. Though she didn't finish her thought, it still took a fair amount of courage to speak up like that in such a crowd, and that much he could respect. He relaxed his posture a little, the strained expression on his face softening ever so slightly as he felt more comfortable near the stranger and her pet. "Will you come with us?" he inquired of her, curious to see the extent of her bravery. He'd feel a tad bit better with a trollhund at his side in the face of danger. "What did you do, Magnus and father settle for? Magnus is going to remain here and look for Nönja, is he not?" From the sound of the woman's voice, he could tell that things looked unfavorable. "Pardon me," he apologized before she could answer and looked to the elders making their way out of the building.


His gaze turned to the the one named Illwa, her face visibly shaken, and then Aldner, whose face hid disappointment, probably from the results of the meeting. It seemed nobody was in the right mindset to be looking for Nönja. At least, as someone without such sentiments, he would be somewhat more effective in the search, albeit he knew nothing of Nönja's appearance. Surely she bore little semblance of the imposing Magnus. Hakan smiled wryly at the silly thought.


"Aldner, I'm good to go," he called out to the older fellow. They both were already carrying everything they owned, preparation was unnecessary. He made his way out of the crowd, waiting for Aldner to come over, and turned to look at the group of people at the well, whether they moved in a group or not mattered little. Hakan was confident in his "gifts" and those of his partner's.

 

[The One Called X]

Annika exhaled, relaxing as Aldner affirmed her statement. She had only encountered the skald briefly before, but she respected him greatly and was relieved at his support. What followed, though... none of the activity was comforting in the least. She didn't like the three men going off by themselves to make up their minds- she always hated not knowing what was going on, especially for something so important. It seemed to her that the solution was obvious- of course Magnus should stay back from the Allthing. Nönja needed her father, and Kristina needed her husband's support more than ever. But then, she was only a girl- what if the leet was more important than she thought? And Magnus was an important man... there were whispers, when Kristina had wed him, that made Annika furious; suggestions that Magnus had been given a Gevalian bride to sway him in the kingdom's favor, that Kristina was only marrying him to turn his efforts from the protection of Midhalpad to the improvement of Sverjia. They weren't true- to the best of Annika's knowledge, anyway- but...


But nothing, Annika decided. No matter what happened, no matter what Magnus did, she had to do her best to help locate her little niece. The decision brought her at least a small degree of peace, but not much. What could she possibly do? Looking around the crowd, she felt her nervousness beginning to creep back. She was small, incompetent, especially by comparison to the commanding young woman whose voice rang out asking for information. She was the picture of ferocity, armed and helmed. Though Annika disapproved a little- a maiden had no business wielding any weapon, though Kristina had told her of the Midhalpadians strange attitudes towards such things- she was also struck by a little admiration. The girl- whose name Annika hadn't quite caught- at least was doing something.


"Will you come with us?"


Hakan's voice broke into her thoughts. She didn't respond for a few moments, caught off guard. What use could she possibly be? She knew nothing useful in this situation, and yet... she glanced back to the other girl, recalling the promise she'd made to herself just moments before. She returned her gaze to Hakan, and her voice was steady as she replied. "Yes. Fafner and I will accompany you, and do all that we possibly can."


She made her way farther into the crowd, closer to the knot of people, as Hakan moved away. Fafner followed her reluctantly, unhappy to have to leave off his scrutiny of the young man. She was eager to hear the men's decision, and promptly disappointed when Magnus headed for the stables without a word.


"He's leaving, isn't he? I... Kristina, she'll be so upset. But I'm ready to accompany whoever is going to look for my niece. Fafner and Sigunn had difficulty finding a scent before, but perhaps a second try might help matters." Abruptly, she remembered her manners. "Forgive me. My name is Annika, I'm Kristina's sister. Might I inquire-" she was abruptly cut off by the sight of Kristina running from the house. Her heart leapt to her throat at her first thought- not Hansel too- but she calmed at the sight of the infant in her sister's arms. "Annika, where-"


"The stables. You shouldn't-"


"I must, he can't- I can't- don't you dare follow me."


"Kristina, wait-" but the older woman was already rushing to the stables to catch up to her husband. Catching the eye of one of the maids, Annika jerked her head in the same direction. The girl nodded, immediately heading after Kristina. Annika allowed herself a small smile- she'd always been rather good at getting around Kristina's edicts.

 

[Irubus]

"Ah, so still only the beads and the footprint is it..." Aldner gave a slight glance at a newcomer that had taken an interest in the well and kept her in mind before turning towards the patting of horses and murmured chatter. Aagbiorn still seemed intent on conversing with Magnus about what he assumed to be Althing but was being given the cold shoulder by the leader, causing a light smile to grow on Aldner's face. Readdressing Illwa, Aldner rummaged through some of his baggage before realizing what he was looking for wasn't at his disposal any longer.


"I suppose we should get going then, while we still have the sun high." Knowing full well that he would be the elder of this situation he let his voice rise.


"Everyone!"


Noting he had caught most of their attention he continued. "Whoever is going please pack enough supplies for a few days and ready yourself!"


Taking a deep breathe he fiddled with his bag at his back before readdressing Illwa but was cut off as the other two men strode towards them. "Illwa!" Aagbiorn called out to his daughter. "Stay here and help them find Nönja, we'll be back as quickly as we can to settle matters here." Magnus had remained by the stables and didn't seem keen on addressing the people who would search for his daughter, more than likely keeping himself from changing his mind.


Aldner raised his hand in salute "Aagbiorn, men often receive ill advice from the hearts of others. Make the meeting quick, and bring him back to where he belongs." The man strode past him and gave him a light nod before riding off towards where Magnus had already set off ahead of him.


Kristina was leaning against the wall of the stable, where Magnus had stood and tried to support her weary heart and shaking legs as one of her maids seemed to be whispering to her in an attempt of comfort. It didn't seem like Magnus had let his mind waiver in his decisions and had found strength in bringing back an army seeking blood. Hopefully they would find his daughter and that massacre wouldn't be out of vengeance but more towards teaching a lesson.


The rather mixed emotions in Illwa's face caught Aldner attention as he gave the girl a pat on the shoulder much rougher than he would for most girls. "Please don't be too disheartened Illwa, your father has absolute faith in your ability to find Nönja and would put his trust in no one else. It is the generous and brave that live the best lives; you are one of those." Standing at her side he motioned towards Hakan who voiced his readiness to depart and then towards Annika.


"Annika I'm not sure if you should come... but if you're intent then could you comfort Kristina before we head out and give some orders to the other inhabitants to help us get ready to leave. Merucla could you give her a hand?" Truthfully he didn't wish to bring Annika with them as Kristina needed her right now more than anyone, but he didn't really have a say in what she did in her own home... even the dog, while useful, wasn't a complete necessity. With the dog in mind he eyed the hound for a moment as a thought came to his mind. Why hadn't the dog heard anything when Nönja was taken... a large creature like that couldn't possibly remain silent enough that a dog wouldn't hear.


In retrospect to a past thought his mind came back to the newcomer that had made her way to the well. Slowly stepping past the group he stood next to the maiden as she seemed overly intent on examining the well. "It's said that one becomes foolish when possessing a taciturn nature." he gave her a gentle smile before motioning towards her to join them in the group. "I'm certain you understand what is happening in this farmstead and while it may not concern you I have to ask that you join us until we head off just so that we know everything there is to know. Your arrival is a little off putting as you might have already imagined to some of the inhabitants." He hadn't missed the individual that stood in the shadows but made no motion to reveal that information to the lady. However, once realizing that the person was a stranger whom he had never met he let slip something he wouldn't normally tell others "Actually... does this mean anything to you?" clearing his throat he voiced the whisper that had entered his ears "Midsummer will not be celebrated underground this year."

 

[Cannibal]

Fuck's sake, that old man was taking his time. Hakan found a stump a ways away from the well and plopped himself down upon it wearily, relieved to be away from the tense atmosphere. He rolled his neck with a loud pop and leaned forward, head held between his hands. The farms reminded him of his parents, whom he hadn't thought about in a while. Maybe this was the kind of quiet life he would have lived if they had stayed here in Midhalpadia. Quiet save for the kidnapping of course. Speaking of which... Hakan scanned his surroundings to make sure he was alone and far away enough to not be heard by the others. Clearing his throat, he spoke aloud to his "friend". "I need your help, any-"


"Of course you do. You always will." The voice spoke into his mind.


"Idea.." Hakan's voice trailed off into the air. He clutched his head. Did he just hear it in his HEAD? Until now he had only been able to converse with it normally as he would with any other person, albeit the demon was invisible.


"Did I scare you, boy?" The being snickered maliciously, it's voice echoing as if it were in a cavern.


Hakan came to his senses and forced an impassive expression. Don't give it control. "A little," he lied. "Had you the strength, I'm sure you'd have communicated me in this manner before. To be honest, it's a little unnerving, maybe I should cut back on my little walks out into the wilds." He slipped the slightest trace of a warning into his words. The threat of abstaining from feeding usually kept the beast in check, but he wasn't so sure now. What changed? Hakan racked his memory for anything that hinted at the demon's sudden surge of strength.


"Silence. Someone draws near. Don't worry, I can hear your thoughts." There was the barest hint of smile in the last statement. Hakan now smiled to himself. The thing was lying. "Can you now?" he addressed the demon sarcastically with his thoughts as a passerby strolled into hearing range.


"Yes. I can." A smug response.


Typical of the demon, always the liar. Hakan had grown used to the creature's antics, having spent more time with it than even his own parents. That, of course, could be said of the other.


A period of silence followed, ended by an annoyed "Clever boy." from the demon.


Aha. There it was. Now that they were both onto one another, Hakan relaxed. While he did have no clue how it was doing that, the demon couldn't lie about how much stronger it had gotten. He was still in control. That aside, he was discouraged by the lack of comment on Nönja. Clearly, it had no knowledge of her disappearance or was not intent on lending him any aid.

 

[The One Called X]

Annika frowned a little at Aldner's obvious reluctance. Of course she would comfort Kristina- she was certainly not about to rush off without at least telling her sister where she was going. In fact, she would almost have been willing to stay, to look after her sister. She'd always been a bit of a caretaker- but the fact remained that she was Kristina's younger sister. It was the way of things with them- the elder had her pride; and wished to look strong before the younger- and the greater her pain, the more powerful that desire became. Annika found ways around this; subtle, unobtrusive actions to comfort and care without making Kristina feel weak. She was glad to know the other girl's name, though- Ilwa. It suited her.


"Of course, Alder," she said, inclining her head slightly. "I'll do my best." She gave nodded to Ilwa. "It was good to meet you, miss Ilwa. I will be back in a few minutes." She curtseyed- not deeply, she was a nobleman's daughter, after all- before taking her leave. There was much to do, she realized abruptly- she had to get supplies, horses, so many things. One step at a time, though, it wouldn't do to become overwhelmed. Kristina, as always, was the first priority.


There were embraces, tears, and many repeated promises to tell her everything at the first opportunity. "Don't worry, Anka," Kristina had said, using Annika's childhood nickname as she wiped away tears. "I'll take care of everything, for the horses and all. I need- I need to do something, I can't be so useless when my child is... and since my husband-" Annika couldn't hold back a wince at the anger in her voice- "has gone off to fetch an army, you are the one I trust the most. You must be my eyes and ears, Anka." She rested her hand on Annika's cheek- how strange it seemed, that she had to reach up so far to do it- "I know you'll bring her back to me."


The surety in her voice was a little bit frightening.


Annika was once again left standing awkwardly, as Kristina threw herself into barking orders with an enthusiasm Annika knew was borne of worry. There was only so much fear a heart could take before it was forced to let another emotion take its place; and for Kristina that emotion was generally some sort of irritation and restless energy. Annika supposed it was better than melancholy, which was what usually happened to her. Still, she couldn't but admire her sister's efficency; or at least her ability to intimidate others into efficiency. Horses were tacked up, knapsacks were packed. She turned, planning to return to the well, when the Fafner caught her eye.


He was not growling, as he had with Hakan. Instead, he was sitting and simply... staring. In the direction of a pair of haybales. Sigunn wandered out of the barn, and she, too, stopped to stare. Fafner flicked an ear in her direction, and she slowly approached him, sitting next to him, never once relaxing. They were both alert, intent, but not angry. Annika looked from the dogs, to the hay bales, and back again, biting her lip and furrowing her brow. It could be nothing. Dogs were fascinated by all manner of everyday things and scents. But then... this was an unusual day.


Mind made up, Annika- with no little amount of hesitance- began to approach.


@Ire @Wavebird @Irubus

 

[Ire]

The congregation of people that Katla had ventured over to was too far away for Xanaster to accurately hear anything. He did his best to obscure his presence in the shadow of the haybarrels, but as minutes passed, he grew impatient. He peeked around the corner of the large haybarrel, his orange eyes glinting through the shade. The first thing he took the visage of was a barn and the well, but as he stared longer and harder, he focused more on the dogs.


Gritting their teeth and barking, the foul beasts were returning his gaze. Xanaster narrowed his eyes at them, but the squint quickly faded as a woman joined them. A human woman. Red-brown hair streamed down her shoulders, and a dress concealed her figure. She examined the dogs, looked straight at him but didn’t seem to notice his presence, and then began approaching. It may have been the worst case scenario, given the sequence of events.


Arnkatla was still conversing, and Xanaster had no choice but to quickly hide once again in the shadow, holding himself against the weight of the haybarrels. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, his long eyelashes falling over the lids. “Cito proferte stolam nebulis mare absconditum quod non videtur,” he whispered, circling his hands together and twirling his long fingers. Once the incantation left his lips, a dense fog began to appear between his hands that spread quickly, swallowing the haybarrels and anything else that existed within a twenty yard radius of the half-elf’s location.


At the instant the mist was fully created, Xanaster’s eyes shot open and he darted forth from his confinement. The fog, while affecting others, did not hinder his own vision. It was an illusionary cloud of fog, and did not actually exist in the world to the eyes of those who could weave the winds. He rounded the haybarrels that had been hiding his position until now, sprinting through the mist until he broke forth from it, now visible on the other side but quickly taking flight through the fields.


Katla would have to catch up with him, for escape was better suited than death at the hands of discriminating and fearful humans. Most people didn’t even discover most of his hiding places when he ventured to towns or farms. Damn dogs.

OOC Note

The words Xanaster spoke were in Latin, which is the language I used to represent the elven language. I hope that's okay with you, @Wavebird. He would've learned the incantations for his spells in the elven tongue. Regarding this matter, the English words he spoke were: "Bring forth the mists of the sea, and hide that which should not be seen."

@The One Called X @Killigrew

 

[kira blackthorn]

While the men are gone we shall search for the lost one. Merucla thought pausing when he realized something a scowl forming on his face. Oh, great I just realized I didn't put myself in the same group as the men. See this is why I shouldn't hang around woman to much. Relizing he should probably answer Aldner. Nodding he pushed his scowl away so it gave into a calm expression. "No problem. "


As Annika said her farewells to her sister Merucla took a hold of Bilbos reign and began to check that everything was in order. He was satisfied to find that it was and gave Bilbo a pat on the neck. "Good boy. " Realizing Annika was probably finished Merucla examined the area and found her wandering toward the hey bales while glancing at the dog and Sigunn. Come to think of it the hound was acting strange. Now what is she doing? Curious He wandered after her letting Bilbos reins go. However he froze as a light strange mist began to take over the area. I have seen mist like this only once before. It is the creation of another wind weaver. Which means it is just an illusion. Tensing Merucla watched the hey bales warily and was right to do as a young man burst from behind them and began to run to the fields. From the looks of him he has elf blood in his veins and he isn't aware he is not the only wind weaver here. His famous curiosity rearing it's head Merucla was off closely following the other. If I am right my curiosity shall not be sated until I get some answers.