IC Glory of the Svartrsung

Greg 1

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Norway. 939 A.D.

Jarl Olafir the Swineherd of the Svartrsung sends word to all the scattered farmsteads.

Jarl Brynjar One-Eye of the Gunnardung has challenged the clans to a great contest at his mighty hall Seggrhalla, by the little coastal town of Fiskrfjordr. Over the course of three days, teams will compete in running, spear-throwing, glima (wrestling), riddles, archery, hnefatafl (board games), lausatök (team unarmed combat), poetry, and hunting. All participants must compete in all contests. Nine finely-worked armbands of pure gold will be awarded. Their names are “Shining”, “Precious”, “Treasure”, “Freya’s Hair”, “Beautiful”, “Wonderful”, “Winding”, “Desire” and “Hero’s Portion”.

The Svartrsung have seen better days. You are proud descendants of Svartr Foe-Burster, trusted huscarl to Harold Fairhair, King of Norway. But today you are a small and unimportant family, doggedly hanging on to what remains of their ancestral territory. More powerful clans than yours plan to take those rings for their own glory. The Gunnardung, rich and powerful Vikings and traders. The Skogralfings, who carve their farmsteads out of the dark forest. The dour Halvordung of the frozen uplands. The islander Kjeldings, those lovers of the oar, whose eyes turn always to the sea.

Volunteers of good Svartrsung blood are to assemble at Jarl Olifir’s hall, Spjǫrheimili, on the first day of Sólmánuður, in the height of summer.

Spjǫrheimili stands proudly at the bottom of a deep green valley, set between two steep and jagged hills, clothed in scattered patches of birch trees. Around the hall, thralls tend the animals, while others weed patches of vegetables. The sun shines warm and bright from an icy-blue sky.

Inside the longhouse, servants and thralls bustle under old Olafir's critical eye, in preparation for the day's feasting. A great fire roars in the hearth and the scent of roasting pig and goat are in the air. Huscarls sit at the long table gossiping, or lounge in their bedding at the far end of the hall.

OOC: Game on! Have your character arrive at the scene at will. May Odin bless your dice and blind your enemies.
 
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Devious

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Eyvald sits at the table with the Huscarls, wanting to hear some gossip. He says, "What news is there of the feast and games?
He tries a default carousing roll at 8, rolling an 11, missing by 3.
 

Devious

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Eyvald sits at the table with the Huscarls, wanting to hear some gossip. He says, "What news is there of the feast and games?
He tries a default carousing roll at 8, rolling an 11, missing by 3.
 

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Havardr

The young lawspeaker sits at Jarl Olafir's table, his seat at the long table determined by the esteem the jarl holds him in. Havardr is not yet of such stature so as to be near enough to the jarl to be at hand, yet he is close enough that he might called upon to offer his counsel. It is, in a word, unsatisfactory. But Havardr is patient. In due time, Jarl Olafir will grant him honor commensurate with his abilities, he is sure of it. The contest at Seggrhalla that will be held soon, in Havardr's twenty-fifth summer, shall be his opportunity.

A serving woman brings around a wash basin to be used before the feasting begins in earnest, summer-touched water within. Havardr dips his hands in the basin and splashes the water, still cool from the well it was freshly drawn from, over his face and hair. As he pulls his hands away, he reveals a face that might have been handsome, were it possessed by a man without such a severe expression. Havardr's ruddy-blonde hair--fastidiously combed, to be sure--falls freely in front with locks that frame the young man's face and livid eyes, while its length in the back is pulled into a neat ponytail held together by a bronze band. His moustache and beard, tinged slightly more red here, are trimmed to the contours of his face. Overall, the impression is of a young man with squared, sharp features; not unattractive, but hard, perhaps aged beyond his years by the strains of his duties and vows.

After the wash basin is taken away and Havardr dries his face, he awaits the entertainment for the feast, though with antipathy rather than any joy. No doubt Stigandr will be called upon to perform, to charm the women and regale the men. A feast like this is a place for a Stigandr's type, not his. But no matter, Havardr thinks. Stigandr may have the feast. He himself will have the games.

Havardr spots a man approaching the table, asking for news of the contest to come, and he welcomes the interruption to the carousing. Addressing the newcomer (Eyvald), Havardr says, "Aye, I have heard that the games shall be contested by teams, and I am eager to know the means by which these shall be chosen."

OOC: Is it Olafir or Olifir?
 
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Greg 1

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A small voice pipes up from the vicinity of Hvardr's elbow. "And will you go yourself to Seggrhalla, in the land of the Gunnardung, Havardr inn Rakkr?" It's Ivor, son of Jarl Olafir's younger brother, Harald the Axeman. A slight lad of ten with wild, straw-colored hair, and eyes like a ferret, his interest in the runes and his fascination with the kings and heroes of history has often drawn him to lurk about Havardr and his brother Stigandr. More than once, Havardr has clipped him with his elbow, or fallen over him. He looks up at Havardr with undisguised admiration, while glancing with a touch of trepidation at the large and very muscular woodsman seated by him.
 

Devious

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Eyvald says to Havardr, "I don't know how the teams will be chosen, but I'd wager you four silvers my team will win!"
 

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Havardr

Havardr turns in his seat to see the boy Ivor, as well as the boy's bright-eyed gaze. Truth be told, Havardr is unused to being held in such straightforward regard, without the politics and jockeying for position he has come to expect. The boy is young, and will doubtless learn in time that such behavior is not in accord with the nature of things, nor should it be. The esteem of one's fellows is a thing to be earned, taken, and honor given out but sparingly. Havardr will not be satisfied until his honors are far greater than the respect of a mere babe. But the boy's smallness, his interests; it reminds Havardr of himself, so he relents, and Havardr's normally stern expression softens somewhat.

"I will be going to Seggrhalla, Ivor Haraldson, in the capacity of my office as well as to compete. By my deeds I mean to win glory for myself and our kin. What of your father? Will Harald the Axeman demonstrate his famous mettle?"

Turning to Eyvald, he raises a hand to decline. "I will pass this time. But if your team wins an armband, it would do much honor for the name of the Svartrsung," Havardr says diplomatically. "What is your name and whence do you hail, kinsman?"
 
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Bira

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Bjorn happens to be the large and very muscular woodsman sitting next to Havardr, and had until now been more interested in the food and drink before him than on the gossip, technically. He did catch the last couple of lines from Eyvald and Havadr.

Bjorn waits for the lawspeaker to introduce himself (it's the polite thing to do), and then enters the conversation the same way he does everything else: loudly.

"And I am Bjorn, also of clan Svartrsung! I hope we all end up on the same team. No one will be able to stop us!"

OOC:
Bjorn looks like a less angry version of For Honor's Raider and talks like BRIAN BLESSED. Once again I apologize for my tardiness.
 

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Havardr

To Eyvald's naming, Havardr simply nods.

"As we here are all of the line of Svartr Foe-Burster. Might we win for ourselves and our clan in these upcoming games but a fraction of the glory that his name recalls. I am Havardr Gangradarson, of Holdalr. There are some who call me by inn Rakkr ('the Upright')," he says, glancing at the boy Ivor, still at his elbow, with the last statement. After Bjorn introduces himself, Havardr nods again to both men. "Hail Eyvald and Bjorn, fellow kinsmen. I am well-pleased at our meeting."

OOC: I took the opportunity to name Stigandr's and Havardr's father Gangradr (Gangráðr), Kelly Pedersen Kelly Pedersen . As far as I can tell, it's a compound of "way" and "counsel", with a meaning of "one who guides the way"; it's also one of the names Odin adopts. I think it refers back nicely to Stigandr, the wanderer, and Havardr, who gives counsel. I also named the home farmstead Holdalr, which means low or hollow dale. Hope that's cool.
 
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