Session 7

General Summary

May 26th (continued)

The people of Buskagar watch as their jarl and his fleet of longships shrink into the distance before Hrethel Unferthson, Asger's steward, steps up onto the pear and declaires as he gestures respectfully towards Astrid, "Our lord, Jarl Asger, has named a successor! Hail!"
"Hail!" cries the town's people in return.
"Tomorrow morning," Hrethel continues, "a reception will be held in Lejre. Let all true Buskagari come to declare their loyalty to the daughter of Asger!"
The crowd cheers again. Some people begin to return to their business while others jockey to reach Astrid to offer their congratulations. Stigr Aghison, an alle sworn to her father, remains close to her.
Asmund and Haleth begin looking for Isa in the crowd but before they can get too far, Asmund and Haleth are approched by a young woman acting as a messanger for Inga. She informs them that Inga would like to extend an ivitation to dinner to the two of them that night, adding that Haleth would be encouraged to bring an instrument with her.
As Gunnar, Murdaeg, Isa, Asmund, Haleth, Helga and her daughters regroup on the road leading from the water front and begin making their way back towards the town's square, Helga notes how tired many of them appear to be. Everyone agrees to her insistsnce that they come back to her home for breakfast and a proper rest, even Gunnar, who at first attempts to protest, saying he must confront Thurmond.
"Once you've had breakfast," says Helga, resolutely.
As they continue on, Helga moves closer to Asmund and says to him in a soft voice not begging to be over-heard, "So, you are the gardener I've heard about. Funny, I thought your coming to the wedding marked your first coming to Buskagar." She does not seem offended at the deception, rather curious at its motivation.
Asmund is caught off guard and struggles to respond, something that does not escape the attention of the others. He stammers for a moment before Haleth speaks up, "Asmund was the person who first brought me to Buskagar. He was with me the night I first met Ulfjolt. Infact, you could say he introduced us."
Helga looks from her daughter-in-law to Asmund, seemingly seeing more in him then she did before. "Is that true?" she asks him.
"It is," says Asmund, avoiding eye contact with her.
The group continues through the town until they pass through its northerly gate and turn to approach Ragi's farmstead. When they finally arrive and open its door, they are greeted by a cloud of purple weed smoke that wafts past them as they enter the hall. Inside they find the massive Ragi asleep in a wooden chair, his head rolled back and snores eminating from his open mouth, and Bairrfhionn sat at the dinning table with his alchemy set and scrawled-on parchment spread out before him, a ink quill in one hand and his pipe in the other. Bairrfhionn seems too engrossed by what he is working on to notice them at first, but the sound of footsteps creaking against floorboards rouses Ragi from his slumber.
Ragi's head snappes up at he looks around in confusion, placing his only hand on his chest. "What time is it?" he asks with a small bit of alarm in his tired eyes.
"Morning," says Hnoss, placing a loving kiss on her father's head. "He just saw the fleet leave."
At this, Ragi seems sorely disappointed. "I enjoy watching the fleet leave..." he says sadly.
"Jarl Asger named Astrid his heir," says Gersemi, excitedly.
This news seems to suprise him, but a smile touches his lips as he settles back into his chair.
"What did you do to Ragi?" asks Gunnar quietly to Bairrfhionn.
"He did it to himself," says the elf, not looking up from his notes.

Gunnar and Murdaeg

"FIGHT!" bellows Thurmond in a voice that rivals the thunder clap. Gunnar feels the order echo through every part of his body and feels compelled to not willfully give ground again.

Shoved back once again, Gunnar defiantly wipes the blood flowing over his mouth from his nose. His muscles spasm and protest in the aftermath of his first two tastes of lightning. His left side screams with pain as his fractured ribs needle his flesh. Staring at the mountainous man before him, Gunnar draws back his sword arm to make what he knows will likely be his final strike.
A ribbon of lightning illuminates the sky as Gunnar swings Fjellbryter, channeling everything he has; his belief in his god, his inner strength, and even his willingness to die. His blade begins to glow mid swing with a soft but beautiful white light. He swings towards Thurmond's shoulder, hoping that a successful strike may cause his mentor to drop his shield.
A spurt of blood slashes forth where the blade bites into the palm of Thurmond's right hand. His fingers wrap around the opposing edge as he holds the blade with a terrifying indifference. Raindrops cleave themselves against its edge and Thurmond slowly moves the blade aside. He glowers at Gunnar with his one eye through the mask of his helmet and for the first time in his life, Gunnar knows true fear.
With a display of speed and strength that amazes the young alle, Thurmond yanks the sword's handle from Gunnar's hand and hurles it aside. Gunnar is nearly stupefied as -despite his best efforts- he watches his sword leave his hand and its blade become lodged several inches into a tree's trunk thirty-feet away.
Gunnar, still amazed by the ease at which he was disarmed, looks back to Thurmond only to see his shield's boss slam into him. With a burst of splintered timbers and blue lightning sparks, Thurmond's shield shatters against Gunnar's body, knocking the younger man off his feet and flying through the air. He lands on ground in a clumsy heep; his consciousness completely wrung from him.
Thurmond looks to Gunnar's limp body and casts his shield boss to the ground as he takes his first step towards his fallen pupil. At this, Murdaeg rushes forward. Coming to a sliding stop on the wet grass, Murdaeg places himself between Thurmond and Gunnar.
Holding his battleaxe in both hands, the dvergr says through his helm's mail, "My apologies, but I've grown quite attached to this one."
Thurmond halts his approach and says in a calm but firm tone, "Stand aside, Master Dvergr. I shall not kill him." Murdaeg hesitates briefly before doing as he's bid. Thurmond steps forward, kneels beside Gunnar, and clasps his hands together before placing them both on Gunnar's body. A pure white light glows from beneath his hands and with a sickening snap, Gunnar's ribs crack back together. Breath is forced back into his lungs; lungs which had previously been on the verge of collapsing.
Gunnar gasps back to consciousness. He struggles to regain control of his breathing as Thurmond stands. He looks down on him with what seems to be disappointment.
"What is wrong Gunnar? Why can you not defeat me? You had your sword. I have not even drawn mine."
"Y-you..." Gunnar struggles to speak and attempts feebly to sit up, managing only to prop himself up on his elbows, the rain falling hard on him, "you are Thurmond the Troll! No man can best you!"
"Is that what you think of me," snaps Thurmond, "that I have never known defeat? Very well. I will tell you then what you lack. You lack your warband. You abandoned your friends to go gallivanting in the mountains. All to service your own grandiosity..."
"I did not! It was to help them-"
"It was to serve your own arrogance and pride! Even now, it is all you think about! Some misfortune could have befallen them in your absence! You took no care nor made no provisions for their safety!"
"My friends are capable! They are-"
"They are elves, Gunnar, and a user of Vanir magic. There are machinations in this town against them and their kind. I watched over them in your absence. As we speak, Fjölnir Olafson likely prepares to make his argument to Lady Inga that your companion, Asmund, the one the town's people call 'Sven Greenthumbs', is the Sly One... and we know he is right. Do we not?"
Gunnar is shocked. "I... I had not considered-"
"Be not a fool Gunnar. This world is not kind to the weak and the guileless. A fool has no place at the head of a warband." He turns and begins walking back to the sacred tree. "You set off on this journey into the unknown with them, but you did not trust them enough to even bring them here. And if you do not trust them... they are better off without you."
Reaching into the hollow of the tree, Thrumond retrieves a wooden bowl and returns to Gunnar's side just as the young man is finding his feet again. Thurmond offers Gunnar the bowl and says, "Now... drink deep the vision mead of knowledge."
Gunnar looks down into the bowl of mead to see many different mushrooms bobbing along its surface. He has heard of these mushrooms and what they can do. Taking a deep breath, Gunnar removes his cloak and armor before accepting the bowl. He hesitates only a moment before letting the mead pass his lips.

Asmund

Asmund and Haleth arrive at Lejre and dismount from their horses. They are let into the hall as their horses are lead to the stables and a servant relieves them of their cloaks. Within the hall, they find Asger's children chasing one another, playing a game with rules known only to them. In the hall's center, standing beside the hearth stirring a large pot suspended over the fire by a spit, is Inga. Cupping her hand underneath, she brings a large spoon-full of the pot's contents up to her mouth and tastes it, her eyes closed. A soft smile crosses her red lips before she opens her eyes and looks to Asmund and Haleth standing by the enterance.
"Welcome," she says.
Asmund and Haleth bow and Inga calls for her children to gather at a table on one side of the hall, while gesturing for Asmund and Haleth to have a seat at a table set on the opposite side of the hall.




"In what arts are you versed?" asks Inga after swallowing a mouthful of her soup.
Haleth stops with her spoon midway between her bowl and her mouth as she looks up to her hostess. Surprised by the question, Haleth says, "I can play the flute, harp, the lute, and a small instrument of our people called the kalimba. I can play many songs and recite many tales from memory. I was trained in the arts of verse, logic, rhetoric and sophistry."
Inga's interest seemes piqued. "Sophistry?" She smiles faitly and gestures to Haleth with a playful finger wag. "Does that not mean you know how to tell fancy lies?"
Haleth rolls her shoulders and returns the smile. "There is great power in ambiguity, my lady, but not all use their advantages toward wicked ends."
Inga seems pleased by Haleth's quick-witted response. Picking up her cup, she says, "I should like to hear you play, if you would honor me."
Haleth's cheeks redden as she dips her head. "Of course. It would be my honor, my lady."
"Good," says Inga before returning her attention more fully to her soup.
As everyone finishes their meal, Inga calls for the children to take up their seats around her throne and a cushioned stool is placed on the floor before them. Retrieving her harp, Haleth takes her seat upon the stool. She fidgets nervously with the instrument before looking to Inga and asking, "What would you like me to play, my lady?"
"Something that shows me who you are," says Inga as Asmund leans against one of the pillars that line the hall, watching intently.
Haleth sits pensively for a moment before moving her harp under chin and placing her fingers to the strings. Taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her nose and begins to play.
She plays a song soft and sweet; one Asmund has never heard before, but one that holds tremendious emotion. From her first note, a small wisp of smoke emerges in the space between Haleth and Inga and forms into what seems to be a line of trees.
In timing with the music, from the trees emerges a smoky, cloak-clad figure just a few inches tall that looks around cautiously before setting to a run. The figure remains in one place as it runs and the trees behind it disappears and a high wall rises before it. With a great leap, the figure plunges a dagger into the wall and uses its leverage to scale the rest of the way over it.
The smoke shifts to reform the line of trees. From them emerges a figure of a woman, pointed ears visible on her head. Like the figure that preceaded her, she begins running. Coming to the wall, she uses the same dagger to boost herself up, albiet not as gracefully.
The smoke then forms into a series of buildings resembling the homes of Buskagar and the cloaked, hooded figure is shown sneaking cautiously through them. The smokey stage slowly expands until the female figure is shown following after the hooded figure, seemingly unconcerned with stealth. The hooded figure suddenly stops, looks behind him, and makes an exaggerated but silent show of alarm. Rushes to the woman, seemingly imploring her to come with him back the way they came, though she seems implacable and does not move.
Suddenly, both figures look off in the same direction, as if a third party had made their presence known. The hooded figure seems to implore the woman to come with him, even grabbing her by the wrist and trying to pull her along. She pulls her wrist free and stands her ground. The hooded figure, after a moment of hesitation, flees without her.
As the song concludes, the woman is left standing alone as another smokey male figure approaches her from the opposite direction. The figure is taller, with broader shoulders, and is clad in armor. In his right hand, he holds a spear. In his left, a shield. As he comes to stand before the pointy-earred woman, they seem to talk, and as Haleth plays her final note, he removes his helmet.
With the song over, the smokey scene wisps away and for the first time since she started playing does Haleth open her eyes and look up to her audience. The children almost seem too awed to speak. Inga offers a slow smile.
"Have you any experience teaching the young?"
The question suprises Haleth. She is hardly able to contain her enthusiasm as she immediately answers, "I do, my lady. I much prefer it to teaching the old."
"Why?"
Haleth glances to Asmund before saying with a smile, "I believe they tend to be wiser."
Inga seems pleased with the answer. Sitting back in her throne, she says, "If I was to offer you a place here as a lady of this court and teacher to my children, would you take it?"
Asmund feels a shock from Haleth, and she likely feels the same from him. "I... I would," she says. "Thank you, my lady..." Asmund then feels a wave of self-conciousness come from Haleth that feels so unlike her as she lowers her head, "but... what would people think?"
Inga smile widens. "Allow me to worry about that. Do you accept my offer?"
Haleth smiles back and says, "I do."
"Then it is decided," says Inga, prompting her children to rush down the steps before her throne to surround and greet their new music teacher.
Asmund watches the light grow in Haleth's face as she quickly sets to learning the children's names and he is able to feel, for the first time since the wedding, real joy coming from her. He then looks to Inga and cautiously approaches her.
"My lady," says Asmund, attracting her gaze, "my I speak with you... in private?"
At this, Inga cocks a eyebrow, but offers no resistance as she calls for Astrid and Haleth's attention. She asks for Haleth and Astrid to put the younger children to bed and the servants to clear the hall, including Stigr. Inga hands her infant daughter to Astrid and she leads her siblings and Haleth through the door behind her father's throne. Haleth spares Asmund a cautious look before shutting the door behind her.
Suddenly, Asmund finds himself standing alone before Inga's throne. She looks down on him with curious eyes and says simply, "Speak."
"Yes, my lady. I only ask that you please hear all of what I have to say."
Inga nods sternly, her face a still mask.
Asmund inhales deeply, and says, "Where I come from... I am the youngest. Elves have no poverty and few children. In my time here, I have seen that the Astari have both. Having not much to give, I lifted a bit of coin or trinkets or food from the wealthier here. I left offerings at the temples who took in children; the temples of Thor and Freyja. This was my attempt to tip the scales in their favor. I kept none of the ill-gotten funds for myself and only ever worked for my living, which I believe you can attest to. I have attempted to make amends to those I have wronged. You were kind enough to offer me a title, but unfortunately, all of this has earned me another name; one I wish to be rid of and a life I want to leave behind... the Sly One.
"Here and now, I surrender myself to you, for you are not alone in knowing my secret. A man by the name of Gorm has found me out and seeks to use me to his benefit. He has attempted to force me to steal from your family in order to frame an innocent man and take his thanehood. You have been good to me, and asked that I never lie to you again.
I know your laws demand that you punish me, but I must help my friends. I must free Ulfjolt from his prison and Haleth from the pain of losing him. I can do neither if I am imprisoned here. I offer what favors I have garnered with you and jarl Asger to grant me leave. Should I die, I die. Should I return, I offer you my life to do with what you will."
Inga sits completely still, her face and posture conveying no emotion. The silence that forms between them becomes almost deafening before she finally says, "May I speak?" She does so politely, seemingly willing to acquiesce if he had more to say.
Asmund nods deeply, gravely resigning himself to her questions.
"What exactly did Gorm bid you do?"
"He... he asked me to steal the opal necklace your daughter possesses and plant it on the jarl's steward so that he might be framed for my crimes and Gorm could usurp his position."
"He attempted to extort you into stealing from my daughter?" she asks with a frigid calm.
"Yes," says Asmund, his green eyes locked with her blues.
Inga sits back in her throne and takes a long measure of the man who stands before her. Taking a deep breath, she stands and slowly descends the steps before her throne. "You surprise me, Asmund, son of Naivara." She begins to circle Asmund, examining him, staying just outside of arm's reach. "Naivara... such a pretty name. Your mother?"
Asmund looks down to the floor between his feet and says in a small voice, "Aye."
"And where is she now?"
"Dead," says Asmund, his head dipping lower and his voice shrinking once again. "I never knew her."
Maintaining the dispassion in her voice, Inga asks, "And who was your father?"
"Dead as well," says Asmund.
"Did he shame you?" she asks sharply. "Why do you not declare yourself to be his son? Did he..." she winces, as if pained by her impending question, "force you on her?" "No," answers Asmund immediately in a firmer, more resolute voice; his dipped head snapping up and his eyes seeking contact with hers so she may see the conviction in them. "No, he did not. I am told... they loved one another... very much..."
Inga seems impressed by his willingness to speak more confidently. Adopting a more playful tone, she says, "I am told... before I came to live here... a great drake descended from the mountains and could have destroyed this town... were it not for a young warrior who challenged it... and died slaying it. Surely you have noticed his totem in the town's square. He too bore the name 'Asmund'."
"He... he is the man... who my mother loved," says Asmund.
"Forgive me... I do not believe I have met a man... who was half-elven before." Inga stands before him. She takes one step closer, looking him right in the eye, despite his best efforts to avoid her gaze. "What is your connection to lady Haleth?"
"She... she is the only member of my clan -outside my close family- who ever truly accepted me. She is the dearest friend I have."
"You love her." She says it as a statement, not a question.
"As my dearest friend, aye," says Asmund, fooling neither of them.
Inga gives him a sad, pitying smile before turning and returning to her throne. She sits and says, "You would have me protect her in your absence?"
"Yes, my lady. I fear that some in town bear her ill-will."
"Name them."
"My lady?"
"Those who you believe would harm lady Haleth if given the chance; name them."
Asmund hesitates before he speaks. "An alle sworn to this household... he has a bald head, gray beard, and a rune scarring his forehead."
"Fjölnir?"
"Yes, my lady. He menanced her in the harbor while I took measure of the fleet. The sight of her playing for a group of children seemed to offend him."
Inga's face grows grave. "Stigr," she calls in a loud, deliberate voice.
The alle emerges from the door at the far end of the hall and silently awaits her command after greeting her with a, "Yes, my lady?" "Have Fjölnir Oalfson summoned here at once. I must speak with him." The alle nods sharply before disappearing again through the door, leaving Inga and Asmund to await the man's arrival in silence.

Isa and Bairrfhionn

Isa and Bairrhionn get quite lost in their efforts to follow Gunnar and Murdaeg and are unable to decided who is most at fault.

Asmund

Several long minutes pass before the door to the hall opens once again. Into the hall strides Fjölnir accompanied by one of Inga's servants. He comes armed but unarmored, wearing a heavy hooded cloak that he removes and offers to the servant before continuing into the hall. He makes his way before the thrones, bows curtly to Inga, and says firmly, "My lady, you summoned me?"
"Fjölnir..." says Inga, looking confidently down her nose at both men who stand before her, "it has come to my attention that your heed of lady Haleth, the bereft bride of Ulfjolt Ragison, has risen to the point that those closest to her feel ill at ease. Considering I have just offered her the position of tutor to my children, I would have you explain yourself."
Fjölnir seems taken off guard but he quickly finds his resolve. Offering a threatening glare at Asmund, he stiffens his back and squares his shoulders before saying in a grave voice, "My lady... these two are elvenkind. They do not belong here. They hail from the clan that is our enemy; that killed a generation of Buskagari warriors. They killed my father. I am well within my rights to wish revenge.
I think that she is not so innocent as she would have you believe in the misfortune that befell thane Ragi's son. For all we know, his fate in that prison is by her own action, if not her own design.
And as for this one... the one you dub, 'Greenthumbs...' I have reason to believe that he is the 'Sly One', the thief who has blighted our town for the last three seasons. He has insulted you and the jarl with his lies and concealed his identity in order to draw closer to this household.
They have been naught but trouble since they have arrived and if they are allowed to remain here, in a position to potentially charm and influence jarl's children and his successor, then I will-"
At those two words, 'I will', Inga immediately speaks, cutting Fjölnir off instantly. Placing her hands firmly on its armrests, she rises from her throne and says, "You. Will. What?" She balls her fists at her side, standing with a fierceness in her posture. "Have you forgotten me, Fjölnir, son of Olaf? I am the wife of your jarl; I am the sister of your king. My father was king of Rogaland, as was his father before him. You will obey me, or in the name of Týr, I will see you hung as an oathbreaker."
"Oathbreaker..." Fjölnir, seeming truly humbled, can only bring himself to weakly repeat the word; its associated infamy and shame almost too much for him to bear considering. "Hear me now; from this moment henceforth, I name you guardian to my children's music teacher. If any harm, or even the threat of harm should befall her, I will punish you. I shall have you stripped naked, bound and gagged, and left to rot in the town's square to await my husband's return, so he may decide what is to be done with what is left of you. Do you think I jest?"
"N-... no, my lady."
"Do you have more to say for yourself? Mayhaps we should summon your uncle to witness these proceedings."
"No... we do not need to involve my uncle in this matter."
"Then take your leave," says Inga, disdainfully.
Fjölnir offers her a deep nod before turning to leave without offering Asmund his customary side-eye. He makes his way down the hall, hastily dawns his cloak, and just as he is preparing to open the door to leave, Inga stops him.
"Fjölnir..." she calls after him.
"Yes, my lady," he says, looking back to her from over his shoulder.
"Go apprehend Gorm, the town's money turner, and have him brought to me at once."
"Yes, my lady," says Fjölnir, before leaving and closing the door to the hall behind him.
At the alle's departure, Inga then calls for Haleth, stating that it is late and Asmund should see her safely returned to Ragi's farm. They both bow and thank her for her hospitality before dawning their cloaks and leaving through the hall's main enterence.

Gunnar and Murdaeg

Gunnar stands alone in the middle of a dark, dry forest. He looks around to see if he can catch sight of Thurmond or Murdaeg but sees only the darkness between the trees. Leaves fall from the looming branches, twirling past his view as if daring him to catch one. He sticks out his hand only for a leaf's edge to slice across it, leaving a wide slit across his palm. He winces at the sudden pain before looking at the cut that crosses his palm. The slit seems to widen and deepen under his inspection and without meaning to, falls into it.
He falls, and falls before landing in a dark expance of water and is unable to resist current as it sucks him down. He fights to hold his breath well after his lungs have begun to burn and is eventually forced to let the salty blackness in. Just as his vision begins to blur, he sees a massive and bright pair of golden eyes appear below him. They consider him for a moment before a mouth filled with teeth opens below them and consumes him whole.
Gunnar feels the presure constricting him from every angle and the cold clutching at his flesh, but he is eventually able to find to push himself up, finding that he is now buried face down under a thick sheet of snow. Pushing himself up, he breaks through the surface to find himself in a field of snow surrounded by mountains beneath dark clouds. Winds blow fiercely, almost obscuring his vision. He attempts to shield his face from the lashing winds to see farther but just as he does, a massive figure rises from what Gunnar had thought was a mountain-side. Its massive, humanoid form towers into the sky and looks down on him with cold indifference with a pair of glowing blue eyes. Gunnar and the giant consider eachother for a moment before it rears up its fist and brings it down upon Gunnar with frightening speed and ferocity.
With a flash of white light, Gunnar finds that he no longer cold put is instead on the verge of roasting. He looks around to see he sits atop a stone in the midst of a lake of fire. The liquid rock bubbles and steams violently as the toxic air scorches his nostrils before a fin breaches the surface of the multon slag and begins to circle him. He is barely able to stand before a massive draconic head emerges from the surface before him atop a long, serpentine neck. It looks down on him with with could be considered amusement; letting a chuckle-like sound escape its maw before opening wide its jaws and releasing a gout of flame at the lone Astari.
Gunnar feels the force of the dragons breath knock him backwards as the fire's light consumes his vision; but instead of landing amongst the boiling rock, he instead lands upon a fairly soft bed of loose grains of sand. He opens his eyes to see a beautiful sky above him, steacked with clounds and colored in a oranges, magentas, blues and yellows of the final moments of daylight.
Gunnar takes a handful of the pale, fine sand he lays upon and lets it fall through his fingers as his ears begin to detect the sound of waves lapping nearby. Sitting up, Gunnar is faced with a beautiful sight of the sun hovering just above the the horizon and a calm, flat sea extending in between. The small waves nearly reach his feet as tide rolls in and Gunnar, for a moment, feels a great sense of peace. He had never seen the sun set over the ocean before.
"Beautiful... is it not?" asks a voice.
Gunnar attempts to look around him to find the voices source but instead finds that no matter which way he looks, the
"Who are you?" asks Gunnar, gravely.
"A friend," the voice answers.
"What is your name?"
"Name? Oh... I have many."
"You evade me," grumbles Gunnar in displeasure.
The voice laughs playfully before declairing, "You are the one who called me here."
At this Gunnar scoffs and seems to focus on the sunset, resting his folded arms on his knees.
"This is a nice place... but a beautiful moment could be made a prison if it was made to last forever."
"You speak in riddles," says Gunnar derisively. "Leave me if you have nohing to say."
The voice laughs again, harder this time. "You are so impatient..." Gunnar then feels a hot breath in his ear as the voice whispers into it, "just like your father."
As these words enter Gunnar's ear, the sun completes its dip below the horizon, but instead of twilight, Gunnar is plunged once again into darkness.
Gunnar once again feels unmored by his surroundings or his body as the darkness pulls him down. He once again feels the sense of falling, but instead of landing in water this time, he feels as though he has landed onto a bed. He hears the crackling in of a fire in his ear and feels its warmth on his left cheek. He opens his eyes to see a thatched roof above him. His body feels odd and his head swims as he sits up to see that he is in a familiar place, Thurmond's home.
Pitched up on the floor by the main door, sleeps Murdaeg, his battle-axe across his chest. Beside the hearth sits Thurmond with his back to Gunnar. The sound of metal clinking together eminates from him as he seems to be working on something in his lap. Gunnar looks down beside the bed to see Fjellbryter and his other weapons at his side.
Taking a deep breath, Gunnar swings his legs over the bed's edge and attempts to stand, only to find his knees wabble and his head spins.
"You should sit down," says Thurmond without looking, "the mead is likely still effecting you."
Gunnar does as he is bid and sits back down, rubbing his head with one hand and placing the other on his sword. He looks to his hand as it comes away from his head to see the cut across his palm is gone.
"Did you go a journey?" asks Thurmond.
"I..." Gunnar struggles to find the words to describe his experience, "I did. I... learned much?"
At this, Thurmond makes a sound, more grunt than chuckle.
Gunnar attempts to remember where his other friends are. He and Murdaeg must get back to them, he thinks.
"Your friend... Murdaeg he insisted on staying by your side. Isa and Bairrfhionn searched the woods through the storm hoping to find you. Asmund... he and lady Haleth went for an audience with Lady Inga. I believe he may plan to confess to his crimes and beg her for his life so he may yet lend his skills to your quest. They are good folk Gunnar. You must be worthy of them. Do you understand?"
"I..." Gunnar looks down at the sword beneath his left hand. For as long as he could remember, a sword was all he wanted. "I do. I... I am sorry."
At this, Thurmond seems to finish his work. He stands and turns to present Gunnar with his chain hauberk, now with its sleeves complete. He hands it to Gunnar who clasps it to his chest. Before he can respond, Thurmond steps to a chest that sits at the foot of his bed and retrieves from it a helmet. As he hands it to Gunnar, he looks at him and says, "Don't forget to breath."

May 27th

Morning arrives to find the storm from the night before passed and after breaking their fast the two groups consisting of Isa, Bairrfhionn, Asmund, Haleth, Ragi, Helga, and their daughters, and Gunnar, Murdaeg, and Thurmond converge on the road leading into Buskagar, on their way to pledge their loyalty to the new heir, with the former noting that Gunnar had reclaimed his sword.
Making their way into town
Ragi steps forward, Helga and their daughters falling in behind him. The thane bows deeply and his wife and daughters do so as well. Without straighhtening his back, Ragi says firmly, "Lady Astrid, Daughter of Asger, I Ragi, son of Erik, and my family, do pleage my service to you."
Astrid smiles and thanks them as Ragi and his family then stand aside and Thurmond steps forward alone. Bowing deeply, the alle says, "My lady, my shield and my sword are yours, as they are your father's. I reafirm my loyalty to you and to your father's house."
Astrid thanks Thurmond as well, but a more serious look comes upon her face as Gunnar steps forward. Drawing Fjellbryter and places its tip to the floor before him and dopping to one knee, he places both hands on the sword's crossguard, lowers his head and says in solemn voice, "Astrid Asgerdotr, I wish to reaffirm my loyalty to you and your father's house. Any who would cause you and your family harm will be halted upon my shield. Your enemies shall fall to my blade. In the name of your lord father, Óðinn, Thór, and all the Æsir, I swear this to you upon my sword."
Astrid gives Gunnar the same smile she gave to Thurmond and Ragi, but her eyes glisten ever so slightly as she nods approvingly and thanks him. Thurmond pats him on the back as Gunnar rises, sheaths his sword, and steps back.
Next, Isa steps forward and offers Astrid a florishing bow before saying, "My lady, may Freyja bless and keep you. I offer you my service, and my loyalty to you, your family, and this good town which you protect."
Finally, Asmund steps forward. Sparing a momentary glace at Inga, bows bows and says,

Hrethel then stands forward, unrolls a scroll in his hand, clears his throat and declares, "Jarl Asger dictated this message before his departure to be read to this company," before continuing, "My friends, short was the time we spent together but I see in you a fellowship that will and since only one of you saw fit to
To Gunnar, son of Thór, my faithful servent, I bequeath to you an amount of sixty gold pieces.
Lady Isa, daughter of Hanno, for the prodigious medicines that you provided and also for the generous price you commanded, I have left instruction that you be awarded a bonus of 20 gold pieces. May the blessings of the Vanir Queen follow you.
To master Murdaeg, son of the fiery mountains, for your willingness to lead this expedition to the hearth of your people, I thank you and have left instruction that you be rewarded with a sum of 15 gold pieces.
And to Sven, son of none, for leading an expedition safely to and from your people, you have proven yourself to be a man of your word, and elves of the Galanodel to indeed be a mighty people, among whom gardeners are no doubt held in high honor. For your service in this, and in the gardens of my people, I name you... Karl of Buskagar.
Go now with good hearts. Farewell, and may the blessing of the people of Buskagar go with you."


"The night before he left... my father approched me and told me a friend of ours said we should talk. He asked me if being jarl is what I wanted. My father has never spoken to me that way before."
"I merely spoke the truth.
Hugging Gunnar once again, she lets slip a whisper that says, "I'm scared."
"You are the daughter of Asger. Be not afraid. Your father will return and it will be years still before you are jarl."
"Thank you.



"My good people, I give you the Sly One, the thief that has best our town for the last three seasons. Several of the stolen articles were found in his posession. Let it be known that this is the fate that awaits those who challenge the might of the house of Asger."