Cornered Wolves [Closed]

[Green Shoes]

A fierce gale blown in from the sea brought chills upon the residents of the Kveldulf estate. Though it was only midday, lights were beginning to appear in the windows of the home and the barn, complimented by the small flickers of campfire. A few folk had arrived; local merchants and close friends, most of whom were milling around the home, helping to set up tables and chairs.

The home itself was long, with a sharply downward sloping roof made of reddish timber. The walls were aged brown, though lighter inside than out. The barn was of similar materials; both tall and wide, it was stocked to the brim with various crates and barrels; the smell of meat and beer was strong.

Inside the home, three long tables were set out, one of which was occupied by a few, strange folk. As they ate and were waited on, more people began to arrive; pitching tents and beginning to make merry outside. Traders and merchants, small children with their parents; even some of the resident raiders were starting to appear, paying their respects at the door a rather surly looking woman. The sound of music and poetry began to filter into the home, as the afternoon set in.

Eiya stood patiently at the door, with her arms folded and tapping her feet. Knowing full well her responsibilities as stand-in host, the maiden kept her fierce distaste bubbling inside her, lest she tarnish her fathers hard-won reputation.

"And where is the old man? Not still sleeping!"

A large, bearded fellow clapped his hands on her, tussling her hair. An old family friend, Brynjor had seen her grow up. Relaxing slightly, she waved him away, shifting her eyes from him to the table of strangers.

"Unfortunately he's away on business. Seeing to Harald, though he should be back soon. Excuse me."

She walked briskly from the doorway to the table, picking up a large jug of ale on her way. Setting it down somewhat uncouthly, she eyed the newcomers off, each one. The young vagabonds and the Celt set her on edge, though the rest seemed pleasant enough. She especially wanted to stay on the side of the giant with the bow. The woman seemed somewhat out of place, but, knowing the wide influence of her father, she was careful not to offend.

"May I extend my gratitude to all of you for coming; such a group of...well-traveled, people, reflects the outreach of my father. I haven't seen any of you in town. My name is Eiya, drink and tell me of yourselves!"


She filled their cups and sat down, keeping one eye on the door, lest others seek to make themselves known. Her father was due back an hour ago, and it was somewhat unnerving. This was the first year the responsibility fell entirely to her, and the pressure not to make a mockery of it was tremendous.

 

[Lotus_Gait]

With a deep, murmured thanks to Eiya for the drink, Alfrain eyed the group at his table cautiously. As the tall hostess had remarked, few of these people wore the look of Vestfold. Most had the look of danger about them, Alfrain decided. Slowly, he reached for the mug of ale, his enormous hand dwarfing it. For a time, he simply held the mug. Thinking.

Alfrain's journey through the mountains had been relatively short - only three days with the packhorse - but he was relieved to eventually arrive with the meats and furs he intended to provide for the feast. He was surprised not to be met by Kveldulf himself, as was usually the case. It was surprising, but Alfrain shrugged it off and had spent time trading his wares with the estate's cooks. Ordinarily, he would have set off for the mountains again straight away, but Alfrain was keen to thank Kveldulf for his business.

Taking a deep drink from his ale, Alfrain let his eyes shift across the table again, settling briefly on the hostess, Eiya Kveldulf. Despite trading with the estate for many years, Alfrain had never really heard of the daughter. Admittedly, he disliked idle chatter, but was slightly surprised at Kveldulf having never mentioned her before. With her father absent, it had fallen to Eiya to ensure the feast's guests were welcomed with the customary Kveldulf hospitality. Alfrain could see she was capable enough, but the slight twists to her mouth suggested she wasn't entirely comfortable with the position she had been thrust into with her father's absence.

Itching to return to his mountain cabin - and solitude - Alfrain drank impatiently, settling into his chair and picking at the dark rabbit meat that he himself had provided. The idle chatter was going to happen, whether he liked it or not, but learning of these travelers - especially the more dangerous looking - and why they had journeyed to Vestfold could be useful.

 

[DarkRawen]

Aslak had been one of the last to arrive, having taken the time to make himself look somewhat presentable, shaving and getting himself cleaned up. After all, if he was going to someone's party, he might as well not look like he'd been living in the woods the last few days, though he certainly had. Coin was running low, and the forests had animals, he'd be a fool not to take advantage of what skill he had as a hunter. And now he was sharing table with quite the amount of people, especially the group around him seemed... particularly odd.

Then again, they would probably make him seem less suspicious, less like your common thief.

I would certainly not take anything from this place, though.

He was certainly skilled, more than he wanted to be sometimes, but there was a time and place for everything, and far too many of the people present would be able to flay him should they catch him. Even so, he felt his fingers tingle anytime he saw something small but valuable, he was really running low on funds. Still, it was an opportunity to eat and drink, and it would hardly be polite to take stuff when someone was already offering you food and drink for free. Aslak had just finished his cup when the daughter of the family approached his table and filled it again, sitting down right afterwards.

"May I extend my gratitude to all of you for coming; such a group of...well-traveled, people, reflects the outreach of my father. I haven't seen any of you in town. My name is Eiya, drink and tell me of yourselves!"

"Well, I can't resist a good party, now, can I? I'm Aslak," he replied, and put the cup to his mouth. "There's not really much to tell, though. Grew up as the youngest son of a farmer in Sogn, didn't like the so-called king, and left as soon as I was old enough to do that. After that, I've just wandered around." While some details lacked, he wasn't going to outright lie either. He drank from the cup, before looking back at her, in a good mood because of the free drinks and food.

"How about you? As a daughter of such a rich household, I'm sure you've got a couple of fun stories. Must be nice, considering all the stuff you have."

 

[Josh123914]

"May I extend my gratitude to all of you for coming; such a group of...well-traveled, people, reflects the outreach of my father. I haven't seen any of you in town. My name is Eiya, drink and tell me of yourselves!"
Alastar eyed the woman and greeted her pleasantly, ''Gracious host, such an honour to meet you in person. I hope the feast will be to expectations'' he said as he moved with the tumult of guests.
Their host was called Eiya, not young, but was nice to look at regardless. Alastar stood out in a crowd, and he knew it, exchanging pleasantries does more than one would expect.
Adjusting a strand of brown hair away from his brow, he pulled it back and weaved it in with the rest of his small ponytail.
''It'll need cutting soon'', he thought to himself. First impressions were everything, and he wasn't chosen just for his looks.

As he took his place at one of the benches (near the host's of course), he took note of who he'd be feasting with: Travellers and warriors alike, Alastar would have more than a few people to contend with for the host's favour.

Luckily, he had a mission, and he needed whoever Eiya answers to for it to pull through. With luck, Vestfold's lord will be interested, and Alastar's trade network will only grow.

 

[FalloutJack]

She had stepped on inside the house with the rest of them, but she was not alone. What you see is a black-haired lady of a deeply dark-blue dress, something meant more for travel than for looks. She was indeed one who wanders the path, for were those not strong travel boots upon her feet as well? Say truly. Her face and details - a woman of some beauty crossed with the strength of those who work for a living - were seen once she pulled back the hood of her ash-gray cloak, the protection from the elements that she wore...and for other reasons. The woman smiled at the hostess with a nod of jovial greeting as she entered, followed by two men.

Yes, the part about not being alone... You see, she looked to be a figure of some importance, at least to a measured amount among others. The two hooligans that fell in behind her were exactly what they appeared to be, a pair of ordinary villagers from further out, pretty much traveling on her coattails, after a fashion. They were men of work, through and through. You hire them for odd jobs, the asking price being a bit of coin and maybe lunch. The first one was young, but grizzled with a sort of slackjawed look about his whole face. The other was a bit older, no beard and a fair bit of grumpus about him. They had a short sword and a hammer between them, probably a fair hunting knife or two. The woman's pack revealed a sharp short sword as well, but of higher quality.

When they sat down to eat, you could tell the difference in standing to them. They were not as clean as her, nor as attentive to eating ettiquitte. They were men who ate. She was one who dined. She enjoyed the meal, the ale, and settled into the evening. They were great laughing galloots who were not easily composed. However, for the evening, it was her wish that they tone it down a little, and so they would have some measure of behaved sitting as they flanked her. They weren't there to impress anyone with their presence. She had included their seat at the table as part of their payment...

Spoiler: Arthur and Morten

FLASHBACK:

"Tell true, she was greatly gifted in looks, but the lord did nothing for her sense!"

"That woman will never learn. You can't force yer will on men an' expect the movin' of mountains."

"Oh there, I must agree."

The two men had been leaning on a wagon after some unloading work was finished for the day, shooting the breeze as they say. What they did not expect was to find this newcomer with the ash-gray cloak and travel pack to be walking in on their conversation. Mind you, men like them hardly mind a conversation getting such a facelift, but it was more to her sudden appearance and agreement with Morten's statement that caught them off-guard.

"Asking the impossible just because you want it badly is never going to occur. Some things just can't happen."

"See? A little common sense in the world! Not too much to ask for!"

"You're a wise woman, lady. Can we help ya with something?"

"You could, yes. Are you men spoken for in the next few days? Could I ask your services for a while? It would take you from the village for a time."

They had to wonder about this. A woman offers them a job out of the blue, you have to wonder for what and to where and why and all that. Upon being asked, she did explain, rather curtly and politely.

"West of here, I've heard of a coming festival open to surrounding areas. As a traveler myself, I like to take upon such opportunities myself. However, in this case, I believe bandits and highwaymen might do so as well. And while I can swing a sword well enough, these could be dangerous times. Would you give me escort to the place in question? You'll be paid and you would join me for the festival itself, of course."

"What's the catch?"

"The catch? Oh. I would ask that you simply behave yourselves to some extent. I'm a respected woman of healing. I'd expect those in my company to respect their surroundings too. Just take whatever it is you do normally when riled up and tone it down some. That's not moving too many mountains, now is it?"

"No, Ma'am, it isn't!"

"May I extend my gratitude to all of you for coming; such a group of...well-traveled, people, reflects the outreach of my father. I haven't seen any of you in town. My name is Eiya, drink and tell me of yourselves!"

There was a little pause in there that she noticed. The woman was at a loss on how to address the varied people that were gathering here at this place. It probably wasn't her show or much of her experience to speak outloud in matters such as these. Nevertheless, she was clearly one of the Kveldulf...and therefore a target. The woman smiled as she watched her, then listened to the other men - quite alot of men in here, actually - speak up in regard to themselves. Interesting people, to say the least. At last, she stood to speak.

"My name is Lancry Oswick, and these two men beside me are Arthur Vales and Morten Kheel. My role in life is that of heeling, so if anyone should fall down drunk this night, I can help you..."

Such was said in good humor, and her two sidekicks did laugh if no one else did, though Morten the grumpus did try to stifle it somewhat. Lancry sat down and regarded her hostess with a kind look and a raise of her drink in salute, never letting off any sign that she was one of whom the woman wanted to die.

 

[IFS]

Jomar grinned as he looked around the hall, merriment and food aplenty now this was what he loved to find waiting for him at the end of a journey. He pulled out one of his various lucky charms from his pocket and kissed it before pocketing it again. He could see there were merchants here as well, money to be made and a celebration to take part in, what could be better?

He moved about the tables, grabbing a bit of food here a mug of ale there, and worked his way over to the traders and merchants he saw. He would have to see what they had for sale, what news they had, and of course what they might be willing to buy. This wasn't exactly the right environment to be selling medicine, but charms, trinkets, and other such things would be easy enough to sell by the end of the night.

"My role in life is that of healing, so if anyone should fall down drunk this night, I can help you..."

He smiled, it was always nice to meet someone else with knowledge of medicine, new treatments could be learned and perhaps later sold. He made a note to try to speak with her later, though for now he was simply hungry.

"Greetings everyone," he declared, deciding that now was as good a time as any to introduce himself "I am Jomar, humble traveler and peddler of cures and charms."

With that he found a seat near the other merchants, eating and listening for now, there would be plenty of time for talking later when he had sated his hunger.

 

[Lotus_Gait]

Carefully placing his mug on the table, Alfrain stroked his huge beard irritably. The noise and people were putting him slightly on edge, having never really been comfortable with socialising. Unconsciously, Alfrain ran a heavy hand across his mountain bow, propped beside him. His eyes darted to the face of each stranger there, lingering appreciatively on the woman claiming to be a healer, before fixing again on the hostess.

"Excuse me, Miss Kveldulf." He called, reaching across the table for the jug of ale. After pausing long enough to fill his mug, and to ensure he had Eiya's attention, Alfrain continued. "This feast does your family honour," he gestured mildly to the food and other tables around the barn, "and it will continue to do so this day." He took a long gulp of ale and wiped the moisture from his beard. "But I wish to see your father and then be on my way. Will he be returning soon?"

 

[Green Shoes]

Eiya took quick stock of the flow of people outside, before letting out a deep breath and taking a seat. People had begun to take care of themselves; chatting between each other and sharing food. There was still some time before the main feast, and she was dying to take a break. Breaking bread for herself, she looked at Aslak and cocked her head.

Was I supposed to have a few fun stories? Have all the others had their share of travels?

"Sogn is meant to be quite nice, quite a few trade roads through there. Don't suppose you've "wandered" past any of those?"

Only joking, she grinned, though her remark was meant more to cover her answer to the freckled youth.

"Stories? I have yet to have my own saga, if that's what you ask! Though it has been nice growing up here. I would love to travel as you have though. Wandering. How far have you travelled?"

Turning her attention to Alastar, she smiled, though he did somewhat remind her of her duties. There were expectations; expectations that had been present at all former festivals, and each time somehow surpassed. And now it fell upon her, and here she was. Slacking.

"Thank you, I hope so too. I'm not sure how my father does it every year! I didn't catch your name though..?"

Leaving that question, Eiya laughed nervously at Lancry's joke. The woman looked somewhat out of place for such a festival; the men beside her seemed more to follow than to lead. Still, she may need her offered assistance; if not for the drunkards then the fights that were sure to break out. Nearly every year, those loyal to the North sought out Southern folk who spouted speech of independence and challenged them. Taking a long, impressive drink, Eiya hoped that the casualties would be kept to a minimum.

"I may just call you up on that, Lancry. An interesting name, by the way. From where do you travel from..?"

She had certainly never heard of her nor her family around Vestfold, and she was quite familiar with the clans from Sogn themselves. Not truly probing for answers, she was more curious than concerned.

Her mood was lifted at Jomar's introduction; not only did he seem a friendly and travelled man, but he may hold connections to various traders that she had tried to get a hold of. Timber from the Laplands would make a fine addition to her ship.

"Lovely to meet you, Jomar. I don't suppose you have any of those charms on you now? You may have found a customer in your host!"

Any curio or knick-knack from the South-East would provide a string of bargains that she could trace, all the way to a (hopefully) co-operative vendor.

The low tone of Alfrain pulled her away from the traveller, who sat himself amongst the other merchants, engaged in discussion. His question was certainly sobering, and she looked around, somewhat concerned, before answering as bluntly as she could.

"My father was expected back here not too long ago. I assume he has been held up; if he's not back by sundown I will send my brothers to find him while I continue to host in his stead. Are you in a rush?"

The man certainly held some intrigue about him, and she hoped he would be able to stay. She had no doubt that Kveldulf had a thing or two to talk about with this giant bowman, not least of which looking for prospective allegiances if war was to descend on Vestfold, as he had predicted some years ago.

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

Spoiler: Aslak

Aslak can see a shiny silver goblet that has rolled under the table near his foot, along with a loose purse of coin that is jutting out of the cloak of a nearby drunkard, whose beard is heavily drenched in ale.

Spoiler: Jomar

The merchants nearby speak of a new trade route that has opened south through Germania and France, and is rumored to connect all the way through Constantinople to Jerusalem and Damascus. One of them is showing a fine, curved dagger of impossibly beautiful design, claiming that it is proof of said trail.

 

[Lotus_Gait]

"My father was expected back here not too long ago. I assume he has been held up; if he's not back by sundown I will send my brothers to find him while I continue to host in his stead. Are you in a rush?"

Alfrain held his hands up placatingly at Eiya's tone. He measured his own tone to smooth over any offence caused. "No rush, hostess. No rush at all. Sorry, I am unused to..." He gestured vaguely to the people sat at their table, to the folk wandering into the barn, to everything really. Leaving the rest unspoken, Alfrain hardened his tone. "If the need to send out your brothers arises, I will accompany them." He took another big swig of ale before continuing in a lighter manner. "Besides, from what I've heard from your father, none of those lads could track a bear if it was leaving a trail of rocks to point the way." He grinned broadly to ensure the joke did not miss it's mark. Alfrain very seldom made jokes but sometimes, one slipped out.

Straightening slightly, he cleared his throat and became gruffly serious once again though. "In any case, I will aid you if the need arises." Still discomformited by the social nature of the other guests, Alfrain leaned back in his solitude once again, picking at the rabbit on his plate.

 

[DarkRawen]

More people introduced themselves, and Aslak listened, it'd be rude to ignore them after all. However, suddenly he noticed a silver goblet on the floor, close enough for him to be able to roll it closer with his foot. From the corner of his eye he could also see a man, who, having already drunk too much, was letting his purse hang out, easily taken. He couldn't help but notice these things, while he had told himself that he wouldn't steal from anyone who'd throw a party like this and invite anyone, he also really needed the money. Or so he told himself anyways, but it still would be rather... uncalled for.

I don't... I shouldn't.

Yet, he started working on moving the goblet over to his feet so that he could easily grab it should he attempt to do that. He listened to Eiya, though his mind was divided, not only on what she said, but also the goblet, as well as the drunk man.

"Sogn is meant to be quite nice, quite a few trade roads through there. Don't suppose you've "wandered" past any of those?"

Still not listening completely, he didn't notice that she was joking, nor what she meant with "wandered".

"Well, actually, I came to the south along the coast from a small coastal town. I'm certain you'd recognize the name if I told you though, so I'd rather not tell you which town it is." He smirked, though a bit hesitant.

"Stories? I have yet to have my own saga, if that's what you ask! Though it has been nice growing up here. I would love to travel as you have though. Wandering. How far have you travelled?"

"Ah, not too far, I've only been on the road for two years, I---" he lost something on the floor, it looked as if it was an accident. He started leaning down, continuing as he did.

"Was 16 when I left. I'm 18 now, and--" he looked for the thing he lost, as well as subtly grabbing the silver goblet, and putting it into his attire. The thick wool and fur hid it well.

"I'm mostly travelling around trying to do a couple of jobs here and there. I suppose I go where I'm wanted---" he sat back up, pocketing small coin he had dropped, and smiled again, nervously. "To get away from where I'm not."

He could feel the cold metal against his skin, and instantly started feeling regret. Sure, it was a nice goblet, would earn him some coins. But he was already sitting in their house, drinking their beer from their cups. He knew they wouldn't exactly miss the goblet, they probably had thousands of them, but he shouldn't have done it. Even if they wouldn't be able to tell that he had done it, he had disguised it well enough.

I should have gone for the purse. No, what am I thinking, I shouldn't have gone for anything, I should have kept my fingers off all of this.

This had already gotten him in trouble many times, and it seemed it would again. Aslak swallowed, then leaned over to Eiya, as he was sitting fairly close to her. As he whispered, he looked her straight in the eyes. His rather blue eyes portrayed regret, although there was a certain lack of shame there. "Just now, I took a silver goblet. I'm sorry, will you let me stay if I give it back, or will I have to run?" He was very much serious.

 

[FalloutJack]

"I am Jomar, humble traveler and peddler of cures and charms."

Aha, so there was another one here who seemed to know the business of medicine. That would be an important bit of information, overall. It would be marked as important that such a skilled person in this trade was present. True, she was also onesuch person and that was good, but her skills were only decent, better than bad, adequate. And as such, she kept an eye on him for now. It might be good to learn just how well the man could make use of his cures and charms. Another person wanted to see the hostess' father. Yes, where is he? This occasion was one he should not miss. And that she, in turn, should not miss when the time comes...

"I may just call you up on that, Lancry. An interesting name, by the way. From where do you travel from..?"

The hostess speaks. The guest turns her gaze towards her. There is no worry over the question, just conversation she had considered all the angles of on the way in. She knew what to say and how to say it. She had these two men around to make her look protected and concerned for their surroundings as a prudent traveler would. Lancry gave her answer with a friendly tone.

"I have traveled all over, lending what skills I have to those who need it and continuing my studies still. However, originally I hailed from the West, in a small town called Hutch."

Not a total lie, but a half-truth. Hutch lay a bit far from here, but it WAS there. A small town between bigger towns, it served mainly as a traveler's waypoint, giving support and aid and alot of things you'll be needing out on the road. It thrived in the small sense, and was a good place to be for a while. People sometimes moved in and moved out. She could say that she was from there without ever having to really prove it. Lots of people went to Hutch, were treated well, and moved on without thinking too much about who ever lived there. Lancry drank of her ale, and then heard a thief confess his fault just then.

"Just now, I took a silver goblet. I'm sorry, will you let me stay if I give it back, or will I have to run?"

Here, she decided to speak up on the matter.

"Let him stay. A guilty conscience that strong will see us through the night without incident."

 

[EnigmaticSevens]

There was a recipe for a simple sort of sorcery, one that Gwyle knew well and had practiced often. Take a thing that most men knew well, a grand and roaring drinking song or shanty for instance, and marry it to a thing that few men knew, a strange folk dance perhaps. Sew both through with liberal application of strong drink and there you have it, cheer abounding! It was a result as sure as any alchemist?s elixir and it had served Gwyle for years. The familiar drew them in, the strange made it play, and libations chipped away the queer inhibitions of any body of men. These folk were no great exception, and Gwyle loved them all the more for it.

Lovely as this fete was thus far, Gwyle suspected it could use a bit of cheer yet, a bit of real revelry. After all, he'd heard tales of the madness the northmen could get up to when they got a bit of joy and drink in them, best to put those rumors to the test. Ahhh, and here was the most important reagent in any good social sorcery, a familiar face. Gwyle had made his way north with a band of Danish merchants, easy going fellows quickly plied with song and good company. It was they who'd filled Gwyle's ears with stories of the feast at the Kveldulf estate and it was they who'd help him start this evening's magic show.

Gwyle hopped up from his seat just as a few others came to table. It was a pity to miss new introductions, but those could come as the evening wore on. Beginnings were there own sort of magic, best to tackle them while red-faced from dancing and slightly besotted.

"Magnus, Alvre, come, come! Bring us a drink and your beautiful sister, and I'll show you something new! A dance of the Rus and a sea song to boot, just what you need to whet your appetite!"

Eight pairs of arms linked, Gwyle, the Danes, and a few of the more daring locals. The dance was a strange hopping, kicking affair, but every stumble and misstep was matched with naught but laughter. The song most knew well though, and as the steps of the dance grew familiar, and fell in time with the beat of the raucous singing, the dancers' pace intensified.

En jæger gik at jage, [http://youtu.be/JkXm2E5KVU8]
en jæger gik at jage,
en jæger gik at jage
alt ud i skoven grøn.
Er du med på jo,
er du med på ja,
er du med på tra-la-la?
Er du med på jo,
er du med på ja,
er du med på tra-la-la?
En jæger gik at jage
alt ud i skoven grøn.

The impromptu singers grew louder, Gwyle's voice, rather boisterous and unrestrained, held the dominant rhythm for the first go round, but the Dane's found their rhythm by the second. One of the locals added to game, making it a matter of balance, filled goblet in one hand a quick swallow after every line. Soon, the silliness of the dance and song became less and less of a spectacle and more and more of an event. Some joined in with clapping, egging the revelers on even singing with them. By the time the first group fell apart, three others were already forming around the now veteran dancers. Gwyle left them to their fun, sitting back down at his former table, now occupied with a far more interesting array of faces than when he'd left, including the woman who'd been standing sentinel at the hall's entrance, the lady of the house. The atmosphere at the table had grown a bit chilly though, a boy at the table admitting to the theft of one of the many goblets. Gwyle cracked a smile, and shook his head slightly, "A man with a conscience makes for a poor thief, but an interesting one. Ahh, but forgive my interruption. Gwyle, son of Gywin, blessings upon your hearth and hold, mistress."

The words had barely left Gwyle's throat before one of the newly founded groups of spinning, drinking dancers, crashed rather loudly into a table at the far end of the hall, their song dissolving into a sea of idiot laughter. Gwyle winced slightly, but shrugged, "Heh... my apologies, mistress. I'd hoped our bit of fun a tad less... destructive than that."

Spoiler: references

Credit to the vocal rendition of en Jaeger Gik a Jage goes to youtube user: hultonclint. He's got a ton of spoken sea shanties and suchlike, definitely check him out.

 

[IFS]

"Lovely to meet you, Jomar. I don't suppose you have any of those charms on you now? You may have found a customer in your host!"

"Oh how wonderful," Jomar said happily, clapping his hands together, he shot a brief glance towards the merchants as he overheard something regarding a new trade route but then turned his attention back to the lady "I have all manner of charms from all over..."

He trailed off as Aslak made his confession, Jomar didn't hear the words himself but judging by the reactions of others the man had confessed to some sort of theft. He frowned, thieves were a hazard he particularly disliked as a merchant, though he had never met one who would confess to a crime of his own accord. He wasn't certain what to make of Aslak, and shrugged deciding to leave it to the person he had stolen from.

He turned some of his attention to the dagger one of the merchants was presenting as 'proof' of the trade route, trying to assess its value and origin. Such a route could be quite lucrative, though he would need more resources to take full advantage of it. Of course this feast is a bounty of opportunity, I might even be able to get some of the others here, maybe even the lady herself, to back such a venture...

 

[Green Shoes]

Eiya's lips thinned as Alfrain spoke to her. Though it was reassuring that she had the support he offered, the concern over her father was growing. The sun was starting to set, and the festival outside had grown to it's full size; large tables were being set up outside, parallel to the house; small fires and lanterns being lit casting yellow light and long shadows over the springy grass.

Clasping Alfrain's forearm; a gesture usually reserved between men; she thanked him sincerely, though she was reluctant to send a guest of her fathers out on a search mission for him. Especially on this particular night.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it. Grim will be leaving soon with a company of his friends, so don't worry yourself with it. Besides."

A small smile swept the concern off her face, and she refilled his ale before turning away.

"If my father doesn't want to be found, I doubt even you could track him down!"

Turning to face Aslak, she had been enjoying hearing of his travels until he brought up the goblet. It was among the estates finest silverware, and was worth quite a few coins. Narrowing her eyes, she whipped it out of his hand, placing it on the table directly in front of him. As Lancry advised, Eiya decided to let him stay, though had half a mind to throw him head over heels out the door. Still; she was the host, and he had confessed almost immediately. Filling it up with drink, she thrust it back into his face, speaking in a hard tone.

"I appreciate you recounting your travels, Aslak. It is for that reason you are still welcome. Don't do it again. You have no need for coins here, so there is no need to take. Understood?"

Her fierce, pale eyes lingered on him, eyebrows arched slightly in anger. Point made, she addressed Lancry. As she turned, she caught site of her brother Grim making hand signals, roughly interpreted as he was leaving to look for Kveldulf. Nodding, she notified Alfrain in an effort to reassure him that her father would be present. Sitting down opposite Lancry, she wrinkled her nose at the mention of Hutch. She had heard of it only from other travelers, so had nothing further to add other than;

"Oh, that's nice. How long are you staying for?"

Her attention interrupted by the crash of drunkards at the end of the hall, she was caught wildly off guard by the unfamiliar accent of the strange bard. A burst of laughter escaped her at the messy and unruly fate of the dancers, before she quickly stifled it; her duty was to deal with them, not to simply be amused. She shouted across the hall, with a commanding voice.

"Hey! Right that table and outside with you!"

Though most of them complied begrudgingly, one particularly inebriated fellow swaggered up to the table and spat hard. He was a rather large and imposing man, with several iron rings adorning his hand and a patchy, irritated beard. His long hair was tied back in a thick ponytail, and large patches of sweat showed through his clothes. Slurring his words, he swore at her.

"You're not half the host your father is, though maybe you could match him if you satisfied another craving!"

Ignoring him, she greeted Gwyle. Normally she would stand up and give him hell, as far as permitted, but she would rather avoid a conflict, at least until later; when fights would abound and she wouldn't be so marked out.

"And the same to you, Gwyle. Your accent is unfamiliar; though you do offer good advice. The thief stays, if only because I trust him not to do it again."

Another sharp glare to Aslak.

"Where do you hail from? And where did you pick up that song?"

Checking her braid with her hands, she was eager to spark some sort of conversation while her brother was out. The multitude of guests coupled with her fathers absence was beginning to take it's toll. The large man re-approached her, grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her to the ground. Eiya quickly twisted his arm off and kicked his shin, before standing upright and backing towards the table, continuing to look for a way out of a fistfight. Enraged, the man roared, sending the room quiet, as he started sizing her up and cracking his fists.

 

[Lotus_Gait]

Gripping Eiya's wrist as firmly as she held his, Alfrain regarded her with sparkling eyes. She was more than capable and a proud testament to her father, he thought. Few things surprised him, but the hostess's manner - so unlike many of the other village women's - was surprisingly refreshing. Alfrain would bet that Eiya was favoured to take over the Estate instead of one of her brothers when Kveldulf was eventually embraced by the forest.

Offering murmured thanks to Eiya as she refilled his mug, Alfrain's thoughts drifted once again to the absent estate holder. Eiya had said that her father couldn't be found if he didn't want to be but Alfrain disagreed. Few things could escape the mountain man's eyes in the forest. Saying nothing, though, he merely shrugged mildly and continued to stew in his idle thoughts.

Alfrain ignored the guests around him as much as possible. The noise and uproarious revelry caused by the bard's song didn't interest Alfrain, he was too eager to be away from all that. The young thief's confession of a stolen goblet however, made Alfrain frown. Even if he hadn't known the Kveldulf famaily well, he would have heartily disapproved of someone stealing from a host who had offered free beer and food to strangers. Seeing Eiya handle the boy with a firm fairness, though, Alfrain held his tongue but allowed his eyes to flick to the thief every so often, just to keep an eye on him.

At the man who had insulted Eiya, Alfrain scowled fiercely, his blue eyes piercingly cold. The man feigned not to notice, or was just too drunk to. Either way, he stumbled away from the table grumbling to himself. Disbelief flowed inside Alfrain at that display; there was always going to be trouble during a feast of this size - it was in people's nature - but it was almost unheard of for the host themselves to be subjected to that kind of behaviour, for the simple fact they were the ones to have provided everything. Anger slowly started to creep alongside the disbelief as Alfrain's eyes caught the fellow returning to the table, his face a thunderhead. Suddenly, the feast's raucousness increased tenfold.

Pulling the hostess to the ground, the man tried to force himself upon her, but Eiya was quick to throw off his attack with a swift kick. Retreating to the table, Eiya's eyes were wide in shock and they darted constantly, obviously trying to find a way out of the fight that she didn't want. Only the guests within the immediate vicinty had taken notice of the scuffle but with a hoarse roar, the drunken man turned the entire barn's attention to him. The feast had stuttered to a strained quiet, angry mutters and questioning whispers the only sounds that Alfrain could hear. The drunken man cracked his knuckles and sized up Eiya expectantly, almost eagerly. The hostess was by no means a small woman, her muscles were apparent even under her dress, but man facing her was bigger, and the drink inside him would fuel his courage and strength even more.

With a sigh, Alfrain stood up slowly, drawing his large hunting knife in the process. The blade was long and wickedly sharp. At first Alfrain just looked at the man, his face expressionless, but when he spoke, his voice was quietly calm, the way a mountain is calm before the exploding violene of a rockfall. "You better rethink your actions, friend." Alfrain pointed the knife at the man, not menacingly, but in the way one might point an admonishing finger. Alfrain's eyes continued to stare coldly at the man's. He had't blinked since standing up. "I advise you to go home and get some sleep."

 

[DarkRawen]

"Let him stay. A guilty conscience that strong will see us through the night without incident."

While Aslak certainly appreciated Lancry stating something in his favor, it also made it painfully clear that he had spoken a little too loud. Defeated, he brought the goblet out, he had intended to run with it if the hostess hadn't let him stay, but now he doubted he would have the opportunity. Eiya took the goblet from his hands and sat it in front of him on the table, narrowing her eyes as she examined him. Her eyes were harsh, she was clearly not amused. However, she filled the goblet and thrust it into his face, speaking with a stern and hard voice.

"I appreciate you recounting your travels, Aslak. It is for that reason you are still welcome. Don't do it again. You have no need for coins here, so there is no need to take. Understood?"

Aslak nodded slowly, eyes meeting hers without shame, but body-language clearly that of someone who was being lectured by an older person after having done something wrong. Aslak took the goblet and drank, assuming that was why she had filled it and brought it up to his face, but he had no desire to speak at the moment. He wasn't sure if he was just regretful and feeling guilty, or if he felt relieved that someone, anyone, had given him a second chance after confessing something like that.

And, even so, even if he knew what he had done wrong, and what he shouldn't do, he still spent the next minutes examining the goblet as he drank from it, feeling at the silver and wondering just how much it was worth. He told himself it was simply a way of occupying his mind, but he wasn't so sure. Wanting to take his mind off it, he looked back up at Eiya.

"Hey," he muttered. "This really isn't what I should say now, but do you know if there's anywhere nearby I could do some work?" she was a local, after all, perhaps she would know. However, he chuckled carefully, ready to stop if she sent him an annoyed look. "A little too late to ask, probably..."

With that he trailed off, not because he had nothing more to say, but because of a rather unpleasant drunk. The drunk tried to force himself upon her, but she quickly kicked the man away. Before the large, drunk man got the chance to do anything, the even larger man sitting nearby stood up.

"You better rethink your actions, friend. I advise you to go home and get some sleep."

While he doubted the man needed help, holding a knife and all, Aslak stood up too, standing on the bench so that he would appear taller. Aslak wasn't very short. Actually, he was taller than many he had met, and the farm-work had made him physically strong if not a very able fighter, however, standing on the bench made him more on a level with the two others.

"You shouldn't bother people like that," Aslak said, speaking his mind, not even thinking about the hypocrisy he was without doubt portraying. It wasn't even that he wanted to protect anyone, he simply felt like speaking his mind. Besides, he was already feeling kinda bad, and this was even more so ruining the mood.

"Right now, you're just a drunk man in someone else's house, treating them as if they owe you something. Apologize, else I'm sure people will show whom they favor between you and the hostess."

 

[FalloutJack]

Well, so she was finding, the tally on Kveldulf so far was up to three now. There was Eiya, there was Grim, and there was the master of the household. About how many there were altogether was not known as of yet, but rest assured we'll find out, one way or another. In any case, she successfully helped in diffusing the situation involving yon thief in their midst, which was good because we don't need people suspicious of anything at this time. Wouldn't do for the time being. Still, she had the most-amusing reaction to Hutch, almost as though distasteful. Well, sometimes we can't choose where we decide to call home that week.

"Oh, that's nice. How long are you staying for?"

"Well, I may stay for a few days in town. I'm not in dire need just yet. There are others who are better than me and I still require a little study for some of the more complicated afflictions."

Again, the half-truths. She might stay for a while, dependent on how things progress here, and her skills as a healer could indeed use a bit more practice. However, it was also such shortcomings that allowed an excuse when things went 'wrong' during treatment. Now, Arthur decided to chip in for a moment.

"Ya didn't tell us you lived in Hutch, Miss Lancry. I've got a cousin out there who lives in trade."

Of course, naturally, there was always the possibility that someone around here had a relation out in that town.

"Really? Would that be the one with the crank-operated shutter that opens the shop or the one with the boar's head mounted on the door?"

"The one with the crank, ma'am. Surprised ya couldn't tell, what with he and I resembling each other, only he had a thicker beard."

"Wait, no. The last I remember, there was a stocky young man with blonde hair."

"Oh, that's his apprentice, Rorick!"

"Ahhh, I see. Sorry, then. He wasn't in the last time I was there. Probably doing business elsewhere in town."

This little aside came to an abrupt end when things got a bit rowdy with Eiya. So much for a night without incident, eh? There was a problem at another table and one of the drunken rowdies decided to express a certain distaste for their hostess and the lack of the father in question. There was an altercation in which Eiya kicked the man, and then several other men inclusing Arthur and Morten stood to intervene. Morten looked especially adamant, hammer drawn and face screwed up with irritability.

"Go on, ya lout. Try somethin'."

Here, Lancry spoke up with a raised voice, not yelling but speaking high enough to cut through the noise, she suspected. She spoke those with her fingers crossed, glaring at the drunkard.

"I won't be healing a man who needs to have the sense beaten into him. Those who receive thus are on their own."

 

[Josh123914]

Alastar heard commotion on the other side of the hall, and sprung up from the bench along with a few other guests in an attempt to see what was going on.
"You better rethink your actions, friend. I advise you to go home and get some sleep."
He heard one man say, brandishing a weapon, while the other moved with a knife.

Quietly, Alastar untangled his legs from under the table, and edged his way nearer the wall adjacent his table.

If this got ugly, he didn't plan on being caught in the middle.

 

[IFS]

Jomar was surprised by the drunk man's attempt on Eiya, and was glad to see that others were moving to her aid. He put himself between the drunkard and her as best he could, he wasn't much good in a fight but he wasn't about to let the man bring harm to her.

He considered saying something to the man, but others had already issued enough threats and warnings, so he settled on giving his most menacing reproachful look. Hopefully the man would back down and leave harmlessly, if not then well they outnumbered him by a fair amount if nothing else.

 

[EnigmaticSevens]

Oh this would not do....

Things has been going so nicely too. It was a plan of sorts, a kind of scheming that came naturally to Gwyle because it eased his way so often. The best sort of conspiracy, was a conspiracy to have a roaring good time, and in this regard, Gwyle's little machinations had been off to a lovely start. Folk were dancing, folk were drinking... well, more than they had before, and to top it all off, there'd been a good start to a lovely conversation with the evening's hostess. All was as it should have been, given a half hour more and Gwyle would've been slinging tawdry, wild tales until half the table fainted of shock and the other of laughter. But no, one lout gets a bit of piss in his belly and assaults the lady of the evening. What in all the eighty seven godsdamned hells was he thinking?! Did he expect to mount and rape her in the middle of the hall?! (Oh dear... this wasn't that sort've party was it? Oh...) No, no, Gwyle was hardly alone in the categories of shock and outrage, these northmen leaping to their feet left and right and issuing their threats in what more resembled growls than words. While the geniality and hospitality of these people won them Gwyle's admiration, it was their wroth that earned his respect. Now these were folk who knew what it was right and proper to get angry about. Heaven, Hell and all betwixt them, that settled it, twas time to get to work.

Gwyle figured it better this not end in blood on the main hall. Sure, he'd known a few congeries that didn't even really get started until you'd at at least a couple knifings, but he suspected this wasn't that sort of affair. That meant blood shed could very well sour the evening altogether, and Gwyle could not be having with that. Trickery then, trickery was always an option, especially if you could merry it with comedy. That might just thaw this icy silence and get the good feelings flowing once more. That would solve the social problem, at least. The human problem could be dealt with later, in the evening... in private... with a knife. (Or a cord of cloth, a heavy bauble, a bit of powder, or a well timed chicken bone, for that matter.)

The key to good comedy, and good trickery, were one parts happenstance and two parts knowledge. Gwyle could magic up happenstance with naught but the air between his fingers, knowledge less so. Yet even Gwyle could lean on memory, and sometimes memory would suffice....

---
"Boy? BOY!! Wake up!"

"Wha? wot? I'm listenin'!You don't hafta yell!"

"Then name me the three high chakras of the Indes."

"Um... well, see there's... like, interpa-"

"God's below, boy! You may have no talent for the tender trade, so be it! But I'll be thrice damned if a son of mine knows not the basics! You'll name me those chakras AND the principle of inverse or I'll bury you in the sand to your neck and let the camel make a salt lick of ye!"

"Right, right! See... Vishi-wosit, neck and throat, seat of power... and... a... Ajna! or Aggie... or, uh, eyes, n' low mind' and stuff, seat of emotion n' judgement. And Sahasrara! Temple, crown and ether! S'all about consciousness and floatin' and stuff... and... and...."

"Barely acceptable! Principle of Inverse, now!"

"Uh... the uh, the uh principle that... that...."

"For Christ sake boy! Spit it out!!"

---

The principle that balance is to be aspired to in managing the chakras, not excess, for excess in one is deficiency in another. Gwyle chuckled, and offered a silent thanks to his beloved and crotchety sire (and he had learned those damned chakras, soon as he figured out how to rhyme them.) That raging drunk spoiling all the fun had as thick a neck as Gwyle had ever seen, plenty of raw might in him, no doubt. Time to cast the lot and gamble a bit, to see where the deficiency lay, though Gwyle could make a pretty good guess.

The youth snatched up his own silver chalice laden with wine and hopped to his feet, hopping once more to stand astride the table, movements swaying and loose as though he too were thoroughly besotted. For now, the bard would try his hand at a bit of mummery," Hold, friends! Good people! Do not be so quick to anger and draw steel. Let us not dishonor our host with needless blood spilled and ill spirits! This man's shame is not born of a sinful nature, but of illness! Simple madness! And while our beguiling lady may not wish to ply her trade, perhaps she'll allow me to work in her stead. For I know the cure, good friends! It is simple and ready at hand. This man needs not but one more goblet of wine!"

Gwyle took a playful little hop from the table, just enough to put himself on the ground between the hostess and her attacker, and all the play and mummery withered as his foot found the floor. He spun sharp and for an instant, a flicker, the keener sort of eye saw something different, something dangerous, no play, or farce, or show, but a graceful, easy brutality born of practice. The metal goblet in Gwyle's hand nearly whistled as he brought it around, aimed square at the temple of the drunken brute's head.

Heh... let's test your sahasrara, eh?

Spoiler: OOC

Weeeee, one check for a charm to ease the crowd and unbalance, and another to land the blow, please!