Warriors of Midgard (IC)

[Zaydos]

The fires are burning brightly in the hall of Hrothgi the local skadi, as the third night of Harpa begins. Day has finally passed night in length, and the raid of Alsfang is being prepared. Meat, fresh from the hunt, is offered, mead, saved through the long nights, poured, and a feast is to be had. Many warriors, unarmed within the skadi's hall, sit at the long wooden tables, and his three daughters, as well as several servants and his daughter-in-laws, walk past the tables making sure everyone is kept in good spirits with food and drink to make sure they are inclined to listen with a generous ear to his words.

The skadi will not be speaking for another few minutes.

[Bhaakon]

"More mead here!" Styrmir calls to a passing servant, barely pausing between bites to articulate the words. The young man approaches the feast as if he were looting, seizing all he can and jealously guarding what he's taken. The old skaldi's obviously going to ask for something big, best take advantage of his 'generosity' while I can.

[canjowolf]

Alfred too is enjoying the feast. While he notices that he is one of the smaller attendees in the hall, he is too busy drinking mead, singing songs, and ogling some of the serving girls to fret too much about such things. Raising his voice in song Alfed begins "As night turns to day and we greet the suns rays, we feast and we sing of the loot we will wring, from the foolish fooolk of Alsfang".

[ArcturusLang]

The half-aelf shares a laugh with the rest of the hall at the thought of their number sweeping through Alsfang and taking its riches and raises his drinking horn in a salute to Alfred before drinking deeply. Einarr is hard to miss in this crowd due to his fey heritage, perhaps even more so because of his stature: fully an equal to most men present, uncommon among those of such parentage. Einarr has seated himself near some old campaigners, veterans of many raids, so that he can listen to their stories.

[Zaydos]

@Bhaakon: Styrmir gets some looks, and mutters that he acts like some uncouth barbarian, or a savage berserk, for his actions, but his strength of arm causes them to be tolerated.

@canjowolf: Alfred's little poem gets a chorus of laughs, and some calls for another.

@Arcturus: Einarr gets such looks as he's accustomed too, but fewer than normal for such a gathering. The group is full to the brim with excitement, and men are telling boasts of their past glories, and how they will top them. Most of these boasts are obvious exagerations, which simply grow in the telling.

[Bhaakon]

Styrmir shrugs off the dirty looks, knowing that that this might well be his last decent meal before they took to the ships. There were things to love about the sea, but the rations weren't among them. Still, as the night went on he became less interested in the feast and more interested in the Skaldi's purpose in bringing them all together.

[canjowolf]

Alfred continued to be witty until their host made ready to speak, at which point he hushed himself and looked up expectantly.

[Zaydos]

The skadi finally takes his place at the head of the hall and, raising a goblet of mead, begins to speak of the upcoming raid. The speech is fairly standard, he promises the potential of glory and wealth to the men who go forth for battle, reminding them of how harsh the winter was, and how even with it over it will be some time before they have adequate stores of food, but the fat southlands are plump and ripe for the taking. He continues to extol the honor and glory to be gained, and the physical necessity of the battle, before saying: All is not well, though. Bands of troll-kin roam across our hills, waiting for the day our warriors walk the whale's road. Before we can heed the Hanged One's call, we must clash spears with these trolls, lest they steal our women, and send our children crawling down Hel's road while we are in Alsfang. So I offer you this day a bounty on the heads of the troll-kin, a gold piece for a kobolds head, eight for an ogres, and two gold pieces for anothers. We must slay these blackguards before we set forth; for there is no honor in returning to a home already destroyed.

[ArcturusLang]

Einarr is surprised by his Skadi's words. He had spent so much time away from his homeland that he hadn't known the troll-kin posed such a threat. He is hesitant to draw attention to himself in the great hall, but thoughts of what fate might befall his venerable mother stir his feet. "It is the duty of we warriors to safeguard our clans. I will gladly join this hunt for these beasts. Where are they to be found, and will any join my hunting party?"

Trying to give the others a chance to join up with Einarr and maybe pick up a person or two to pad our numbers. I'm a bit fuzzy on 2e rules, but just in case a charisma check is necessary here, [roll0] charisma is 12

[Bhaakon]

Styrmir is surprised and disappointed that the Skaldi isn't announcing their imminent departure, though he sees the wisdom in the Skaldi's words. It was easy for a well defended settlement to discount the threat of the ignorant and disorganized troll-kin, but a countryside emptied of its warriors was vulnerable to their sheer numbers. Styrmir knew that the sooner the troll-kin were culled, the sooner they would all be off to seek their fortune in Alsfang, but also realized that none of them would get rich off the Skaldi's bounties. The gambler in his soul stirred, and Styrmir decides that sweetening the pot might speed the process (or at least add to the fun). Hearing Einarr, Styrmir responds:


"I will join you, good warrior. What use is all the gold in Alsfang if we return to find our homes burned, families slain, and herds scattered by those wretched beasts? What say we make a game of it: We each put up the first ten gold from our share of the raid booty, then divide ourselves into equal groups. The team of hunters with the highest bounty splits the pot among themselves!"

Styrmir hoped to win, but even if he didn't, he figured to make his ten gold back in bounties, and the added incentive might get them all onto the boats more quickly.

[canjowolf]

Alfred, worried about such a cognitively deficient warrior being tricked into slavery by the elf blood, stood up on his seat saying "And I shall go with you. Death to our enemies and spoils to the victorious!". Alfred seemed to be a little wobbly standing upon his seat, although he was not seen to drink all that much mead, as his mouth was too busy uttering witty remarks and chants.

[Zaydos]

I doubt there's more than twenty goblins, and twice that number of kobolds, in the area. If ten of us make such a bet we'll have more than covered all the bounties, Thorki Thorkelsson, a veteran of several raids, says.

[ArcturusLang]

Einarr raises his drinking horn raised in his right hand and speaks in a loud, confident voice, "To good fortune in the hunt tomorrow!" He then drinks deeply and settles back into his chair, mentally running through what he has heard of these creatures and their tactics.

[Bhaakon]

Styrmir raises his drink with Einarr's but remains silent, also contemplating the upcoming hunt.