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IC [Apocalypse World 2e] After Ragnarok

Dirty Chai

Flamen Solis et Lunae
Validated User
Freyr's never been far from the unconscious dancer. At least, until now. He sits there, quiet as the man's been since he got to Logger Town, staring into the empty tin cup as if Ylva was in the bottom of it.

One of his eyes winces just a little with a familiar tic as he suddenly stirs, his neck shifting his head upwards. He eyes the hostess of the hall first, and Ylva hasn't aged a day to him yet he's quite certain she doesn't recognize him. He gazes stoically at Flatnose next. And his eyes never seem to land on Skuld, always seeming to pass her over - until she nods to Ylva.

"The plows will come back. Give them a few days."

His eyes catch hold of Skuld and then fall back into his cup - wincing again, as if someone had yelled in his ear.
 
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MysteryCat

They Seek Him Here & There
Validated User
At those news, Ylva stares at Flatnose for a moment before throwing back her drink. It goes down suprisingly smooth, but then the aftertaste hits. She grimaces, forcing herself not to spit on the floor.

"Still needs work."

She shakes her head and slaps her hands down on the table.

"So Plower's crew isn't working anymore, at least not for us. We need to know why and what we can do about it, and fast. That means going to Forge."

What's left unsaid is that the trip to Forge on skis takes at least two days, which means spending the night out in the dark.

"Any volunteers?"
Flatnose nods at the assessment of the booze, but it doesn't stop him pouring another round. As the jug goes round, Greensleeves shrugs off your question; he's never been one to travel far from his girls. He looks troubled, though - he's got to understand what it means for the town if the roads close down.

Ba's expression speaks for her, all incredulity that you'd even ask; Gams, on the other hand, looks on the edge of speaking up, fuck her age and everything else, but finally she scowls and looks down into her cup like it's cost her something.

The woodsmen - damn, what are their names? You know everyone in this town, but it's like it's just on the tip of your tongue - are looking at each other, back and forth like their glances speak words.

Ylva nods back to Skuld. She won't be happy to see her go, but she knows the Valkyria can take care of herself and she trusts her.

"Anyone else? No?"
The woodcutters look like they've reached a decision, and one of them gives a nod. She opens her mouth and-

"The plows will come back. Give them a few days."

His eyes catch hold of Skuld and then fall back into his cup - wincing again, as if someone had yelled in his ear.
Gams is shaking her head. Greensleeves spreads his hands apologetically. "We need-"

"Where's Dog's Head?" Ba speaks up suddenly. "She's one of Plower's, or was before Flathead-"

"Flatnose," Flatnose says grimly.

"Whatever. Before you and her-" a gesture at you, Ylva "-talked her into helping stir up Surtr and all this shit, and people started getting people shot. Anyone thought to ask her?"

Flatnose is glaring. "She's the one as told me about the roads," he says, with barely restrained contempt, but his tone's a good sight more respectful when he looks your way, Freyr. "And she doesn't reckon they'll be back. Plower's roads are like his children, they're practically his religion. If he's not clearing a road, it's because someone stopped him."
 

Dirty Chai

Flamen Solis et Lunae
Validated User
Surtr's dog doesn't look up from the cup in his hand. Going back to Forge was the last thing he ought to do right now - not with the wolves still out there, the roads vanishing in the never ending storm, and not to mention Surtr himself and his plans..

He scratches at his chin nervously where he'd cut himself this morning in an attempt to groom his beard. The vibration hits again, assaulting his ear drums, just like that night in the snow, when death flew above..

"I cannot leave Miekke," Freyr states with a shake of his head.
 

AndersGabrielsson

Member
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Ylva lets Ba and Flatnose and Freyr get their say in before nodding to Skuld and the why-can't-she-remember-her-name woodcutter.

"You two then? You both good with that?"

She collects everyone's attention again - she has to snap her fingers at Ba to stop her glaring at Flatnose.

"We need to know if soemeone's stopping Plower from coming here or if he's dead or something else, and we need to know fast."

Looking around the table she crosses her arms and steels herself against her own words.

"We also need to prepare for the roads staying closed. Unless we all just scatter into the storm and die alone we need a plan, so let's meet back here with some ideas in... two hours."
 

MysteryCat

They Seek Him Here & There
Validated User
"I cannot leave Miekke," Freyr states with a shake of his head.
Ba, smirking, opens her mouth to say something. Then glances at Skuld, and shuts her trap.

Ylva lets Ba and Flatnose and Freyr get their say in before nodding to Skuld and the why-can't-she-remember-her-name woodcutter.

"You two then? You both good with that?"
The woodcutter shrugs noncommitally, and... it's strange actually, the way she sort of fades back into the company of the other two woodsmen. Like watching a statue - three dimensional, fully realised - flatten and become just another part of a painting.

"We need to know if soemeone's stopping Plower from coming here or if he's dead or something else, and we need to know fast."

"We also need to prepare for the roads staying closed. Unless we all just scatter into the storm and die alone we need a plan, so let's meet back here with some ideas in... two hours."
And with a round of somber nods the meeting breaks up, the various participants drifting away in groups - to think, or worry, or go back to their business. Gams is last out, delayed by minesweeping the abandoned drinks for whatever she can get. She knocks back a finger or two of the fierce liquor and joins you, Freyr, as you hurry back to Miekke's side.

"Ain't nothing you can do to help them," she says, matter of factly, hurrying to keep pace. "Dunno what ties you to their side, killer, other than the obvious. If I were a younger woman..." She licks her lips, and her eyes go all misty for a second before returning sharp as ever. "But whatever 'tis, if they every come up for air, they ain't gonna thank you for pinin' away like a dog."

---

Meanwhile Greensleeves taps you gingerley on the shoulder, Skuld. "Well met, Valkyr," he says, in his usual slightly spaced-out way, as if you hadn't just spent an hour or two in a room together.

He sweeps a fringe of lank greying hair out of his eyes and gives you a watery, obsequious smile. "I just wanted to thank you for volunteering, for taking on this critical venture on behalf of the community... of all of us, really. Ylva's right, alas - without the road we're all in terrible trouble, the worst. Doomed to slow starvation, assuming we don't turn on each other and tear ourselves apart like wolves first. In the wake of such recent tragedy, oh! And having bolstered our numbers so, of late - most unfortunate timing, alas, to take on so many new mouths - and such hungry mouths they are, these most unorthadox acolytes of strange metal gods. Not that we begrudge them, no, we are a friend to all, open arms and open larders, open to all who work for the betterment of the community, isn't that so? Food and shelter and time to find their feet again, back in civilised society, albeit here on the fringes of the world; time to reintegrate and find their place. To demonstrate their commitment to Logger Town, to stop wagging tongues from wagging, yes, to prevent bad blood from boiling over, if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor. We - and they - are so fortunate to have strong leaders like yourself to take action."

And he blinks at you, expectantly.

---


Ylva, you head out into the main hall to see what's gone wrong in the last couple of hours, and sure enough you've barely gone five steps towards the bar before Bits has snagged your elbow. "Heya," the actor says, with a wide smile that never reaches his eyes. "You got a sec? I've got some ideas about the next show I'd like to run past you. I think we could-"

And he's off, rattling off a stream of bold and expensively impractical changes to your staging of The Saga of Hrolf Kraki - Jenga's favourite, if you're recalling correctly, but not generally a popular show.
 

AndersGabrielsson

Member
RPGnet Member
Validated User
Ylva listens to Bits' plans, her heart torn by his obvious need to work out his grief. She lets him speak until he runs out of steam, then puts her hand on his shoulder. Her voice is soft, unlike her usual commanding tone.

"I miss her too. Not like you do, but she brought joy to my life as well, and I want to honor her. I can't promise you an ocean and a fucking moon of glass, but check out what Jinders has dropped off and speak with Helga. Anything you can put together in a week with whoever she can spare you, using anything we have in sets and props and what the fuck else is in storage, do it."

She meets his gaze to let him know she is there before letting him go.

If the plows weren't back in a week they'd have to make new plans anyway.
 

Dirty Chai

Flamen Solis et Lunae
Validated User
Freyr's hurry is more of an aimless stride in truth, and he ends up passing right by the threshold which leads to where the dancer lies in deathlike slumber.

Rubbing at the area between the ears and the temples, closest to the drums, he finally stops, turns, and glances at Gams with wincing eyes crossed by sleepless irritation, confusion being the discernable theme.

"Did you need something?" He asks the old woman, out of tone, as if just now realizing her presence.
 

Argent

aka Jerry Sköld
Validated User
Skuld doesn´t even look at Greensleeves as she answers, her voice level and monotone like she was thinking out loud, all alone in the universe.

"´Most unfortunate timing´, he says." She raises her head slightly, as if to look at thedarkening sky somewhere up above. "Did he mutter about this bad fortune when these new mouths, sharp-toothed and bloody mouths, descended on the wolves tearing Logger Town apart, I wonder? Or was he busy shitting his pants and praying to the gods for salvation?"

Now she eyes him over one shoulder, with the seemingly disinterested look of a cat eyeing a stray mouse. "And when the answer to those prayers descended upon this town on a black storm from Hel herself, how long did it take him to forget it? These things vex me sometimes."
 

MysteryCat

They Seek Him Here & There
Validated User
"Did you need something?" He asks the old woman, out of tone, as if just now realizing her presence.
Gams is a tough old bird, but still she flinches back - just a touch - as you turn her way all sudden. And even distracted as you are, you notice her hand twitch towards that hidden blade. But when she answers, it's in a softer tone. "Only to shake you out of... whatever this is," she says, and shakes her head disgustedly. "Pining away here, useless? You want to help Miekke, you'll step out on the ice with the Valkyrie."

"You're a dog of war, boy, not a housepet."
 

MysteryCat

They Seek Him Here & There
Validated User
Skuld doesn´t even look at Greensleeves as she answers, her voice level and monotone like she was thinking out loud, all alone in the universe.

"´Most unfortunate timing´, he says." She raises her head slightly, as if to look at thedarkening sky somewhere up above. "Did he mutter about this bad fortune when these new mouths, sharp-toothed and bloody mouths, descended on the wolves tearing Logger Town apart, I wonder? Or was he busy shitting his pants and praying to the gods for salvation?"

Now she eyes him over one shoulder, with the seemingly disinterested look of a cat eyeing a stray mouse. "And when the answer to those prayers descended upon this town on a black storm from Hel herself, how long did it take him to forget it? These things vex me sometimes."
"Humblest pardon." Greensleeves wrings his hands in abject apology, and bows deep. "And woe, oh woe for the messenger, the oft-slaughtered bringer of tidings bad. Whose sad fate it is to be conflated with the news they relay, whose warnings fall on ears tuned to pick glittering criticism from the slurry of well-meaning comment. And woe, thrice woe, for the short memories and shorter tempers of the common man, their tragic xenophobia, the casting about for scapegoats - the stranger the better. Astonishing how quickly good deeds are forgotten, when the stomach rumbles and the wolves gather."

He sighs. "These things, they vex me also, and often." He lifts his bowed head, meets your predator gaze with watery, rabbit eyes. But he meets it nonetheless. "Alas... who has time for such philosophy, when so many are depending on swift and fitting action?"
 
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