isleofavalon | April Catch-All

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assassin's creed valhalla: eivor wolf-ki

April Catch-All

WHO: Eivor Wolf-Kissed and YOU
⚔️️ WHAT: Local Vikingr starts making a name for herself in Avalon
🕒 WHEN: Throughout April
🗺️ WHERE: In and around New Camelot, Red Springs
⚠️ WARNINGS:

Raven Vision

So, Animal magic was it? Well that seemed simple enough, and with Sýnin having made the crossing with her, that was the easiest place to start. On the roof of the hotel, unbothered by the pouring rain, Eivor stands with her eyes closed, her arm outstretched to serve as a perch for her raven. Start with something simple, something familiar. She tries to focus her hugr, mind-magic, reaching out with it to the raven's, to find that old, familiar connection or at the very least something like it.

Nearby, her familiar, the wispy, shadowy and one-eyed raven spirit watches from its perch, standing rather unnaturally still, its right eye glowing golden against its shadowy form. It offers no advice or wisdom, but simply watches.

"Be my eyes...be my eyes...be my eyes..." Eivor repeats the mantra to herself slowly. It's a strange tableau to walk in on, whatever business of your own might have brought you up to the roof in such inclement weather.

We Come From The Land of the Ice & Snow

Later, she makes her way to the docks, cloaked and hooded to at least make an attempt at keeping dry, though it proves impossible with the skies refusing to let up.

She observes for a time, getting a lay of the area and the work being done, and to see what manner of vessels might be available. She quickly grows dissatisfied with what she finds. "I suppose it falls to me, then." She decides finally.

"You there!" She calls. Apparently you have the look of someone who works at the docks, even if that's not true. She approaches through the rain. "Where is the shipwright? I wish to make a commission." A good vikingr needs a solid dragon-ship if she's to make any sort of reputation, but unlike Sýnin, the Drakkar failed to cross over. She'll also need a crew, but first thing's first.

Skal!

An inn with a roaring fire and where the alcohol flows freely. This is more in Eivor's wheelhouse, and while she doesn't quite care for this "whiskey" business (it's certainly no mead), she's prepared to deal with it. Especially when she has a captive audience to her tale, calling on all her memories of listening to Bragi's tales as the Drakkar sailed down the rivers and coasts of Norway and England to keep the crowd entertained.

"And there at last, under ash-choked sky and corpse-filled water, did I find fell Leofrith-thegn, the last defender of fallen Mercia. Tall he was, and of noble bearing, wielding a mighty sword that could cleave a lesser man in two with a single strike, sent to die on a fool's mission by a cowardly king who had already fled England's shores. But Leofrith was in no mind to hear my words; only the clash of steel would suffice. So, throwing down my shield, I took up my two-handed Dane Axe—" and here, Eivor mimes holding the weapon, assuming her battle stance. "—And the red dance began. For over an hour we traded blows, giving no ground, asking no quarter. No enemy had I faced since coming to those shores had been so fearsome, for he was aided by the stoutness of his warrior's heart and the strength of his convictions, certain that he had the favour of his God that would turn back the Northern tide. It was an honour to fight such a foe. Skal!" She grabs her tankard from a nearby table and raises it high. That appears to be the prompt to take a drink, as she downs the mug in a hearty gulp, giving the listeners pause to either enjoy their own drinks, or, if they have any pertinent questions to ask this would-be storyteller, perhaps.

Quest: Humble Bundle

The bees certainly are quite a sight. Eivor stands to the side of the springs, observing the Humilibees going about their business causing chaos in the resort. She rubs her chin thoughtfully.

"Would be a shame to have to kill them." She notes, even though the quest said to avoid doing that at all costs. "Their honey would make a fine mead I think. Maybe if we can offer them something sweeter to feed on they could be persuaded to leave." What did giant bees want though? Giant flowers? "What do you think?"

CLOSED: Geralt TDM Continuation

Good, this Geralt has some sense. Their need is great and the roads seem safe enough; no bandits or wild beasts have troubled them, so it seems unlikely this man, whoever he is, will be troubled either as he makes the walk back to this Red Springs. It should only take him an hour or two. But for his troubles, Eivor reaches down and removes a small pouch, tossing it next to him, a spare bit of rations. "Here, in case you get hungry on the walk back." She offers before turning and clambering onto the horse. The gentleman looks incensed, but Eivor is weighed down with an unreasonably large number of axes, and Geralt's two swords are visible as well, even if the man isn't doing so well physically. so he doesn't feel compelled to press the point.

Once on the horse, Eivor takes the reins. "Let's go, hiya!" She kicks it into a trot, wheeling it around and back down the road towards the springs. Now the man begins to shout protests, but they're quickly swallowed by the downpour.

"How is your wound?" She asks as they ride down the muddy path. With any luck a sage or some other sort of physician won't be hard to find when they get there. Geralt may not be of her clan, but right now no one is. No sense in refusing to help someone in the same boat as her, after all. He's done her no wrong, after all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Thancred doesn't mind the inclement weather. He actually does some of his best work in it. People pay more attention to the ran or snow than anyone who doesn't want to be seen. At the moment though, he isn't doing anything but leaning against a wall and 'enjoying' the air. (He's not one to like being stuck inside for too long.)

He watches as the new arrival starts chanting, but doesn't say anything, waiting for a break in her concentration before he says.

"Let me guess. Animal magic?"

Eivor opens her eyes. It doesn't appear to be happening just yet, but perhaps she should have expected it not to return immediately. Raising her arm, the raven takes flight. Since her companion on the roof has decided to break his silence, she'll let Sýnin stretch her wings a bit.

"Aye." She replies, turning to look at Thancred and hooking a thumb under her belt as she does so. "I could share her vision back home, see what she saw, direct the path of her flight." A bond they've shared since they first crossed paths, one that feels a natural extension of her body but one that she's never tried, or really care to understand. It was just what she could do. "I figured trying to get it back the best place to start, since it was familiar, but it's not going as smoothly as I was hoping."

She regards him for a moment. Hair that white, she'd think he was an elder, but his relatively youthful appearance belies that. Strange, these people from other worlds. "And you? Do you speak to animals as well?" Maybe the man might have some wisdom to impart.

"Unfortunately, I can only talk to one." A gesture to the squirrel looking nutkin perched nearby. "That's my familiar. I ended up with the magic where I can move things with my mind, apparently."

He pushes off the wall he's leaning on to step a bit closer. "So you had your familiar back home too?"

She sees the nutkin and laughs. "As mighty as Ratatoskr, that one. He looks quite fearsome." But she shakes her head at his question. "Sýnin is not my familiar, but she was my companion back home." Eivor explains. "Found her inside the shit box after I took a tumble into the waters off the White Cliffs." Eivor frowns, looking around. "Where did the damn thing get to...oh. Behind you." She points. Reisende is perched atop the entrance of the stairwell that leads down into the hotel, already looking at Thancred with its one yellow eye.

"That's my familiar. Sýnin doesn't like that one. Can't say I blame her." Even Eivor finds the strangely immobile yet mobile shadow bird disconcerting. Especially the way it always seems to meet her gaze when she looks for it, or Thancred's in this case. Like it was somehow expecting it.

Brigid has been here all of three days. Three days without senses, without her balance, and without her grace - though that seems to be coming back, now that she's not constantly trying to hear things. Muscle memory is a wonderful thing.

Cuna is laying in a corner, unassuming, and warming by the fire. She... dislikes the way his golden eyes follow her around. It's like he's watching her, waiting for death to follow.

Still, she's managed to find work at a kitchen - cooking is something she knows how to do, even without her senses to guide her - at an inn near the edges of Camelot. Now she knows that she has a fanciful bent to herself, but Camelot? King Arthur? The Lady of the Lake? That's beyond ridiculous. Either Rune has dosed her with some heretofore unknown entity of wolfsbane or she's been hit in the head very hard, and she will be waking up, thinking herself ridiculous.

But, the Chronicle, her father's bomber jacket and her dictionaries as well as her green knapsack have all traveled with her. Which is why she considers it ridiculous. Sighing, she steps around another table and sets down food in front of several of the avid listeners.

"Are you a skald?" Brigid asks, curiously. She knows the history of Viking storytellers, and really, seeing the woman's tattoos and hair she can't be anything else. And it's only polite to ask after someone's culture when you don't know it very well. Now, were she Fae or something, Brigid might understand more, but Vikings are a little out of her wheelhouse.

Eivor glances at Brigid as she finishes her drink, setting the tankard down on a table. "Every good vikingr should be at least part skald." She replies, seating herself on the edge of the table. "After all, if you cannot tell your own saga well, how can you expect others to do it for you? Besides, I've had plenty of time to listen to my crew's storytellers on voyages. You pick up a thing or two."

She regards Brigid for a moment, curiously. "You know of us, then, eh?" She asks, folding her arms over her chest. Claire had spoken of knowing of her people's deeds, if not Eivor's specifically, on the ride to Camelot. "Most people who do tend to react with fear or anger when they are confronted by a "Dane"." Even if that Dane was actually Norse, like Eivor herself. "You from the future then?"

Brigid listens as the woman talks. She itches to have a recorder and just sit down and talk with her, ask her questions about Vikings, and raids on Ireland and Scotland.

"You have offered me no malice, why should I be afraid?" Brigid asks reasonably. She has no strength and her ability to heal is probably gone. That is going to take time to get used to. She isn't used to being bruised. Sore, yes, but not bruised before. She hasn't had a bruise since she was twelve.

She sets down the last of the meals she'd made. "Reputations can be... overwrought. While I've no doubt you're a fierce warrior, I doubt you slaughter random people for serving food."

"That's true." Eivor nods, amused by the woman's interest. It's not one she sees often from non-"Danes" (even if the Danes are not actually Danes, like the very Norse Eivor). She cracks a toothy grin. "At least not for serving good food." She holds up her hand. "A jest, of course."

She watches Brigid go about her work. "You a native of this place or did you come here like I did? Into the water."

"Try it, and you'll find it is good food." Brigid says, with pride. One thing that she can do is cook.

"Not a native, no. I arrived in the lake." She sighs. "With a rather annoying barrowhound that won't leave me be." Cuna raises his head, and flicks an ear at her. She shakes her head.

She offers her hand. "My name is Brigid."

"A challenge I am happy to take up!" Eivor replies enthusiastically. Nothing like a good feast at the end of a long day. Ravensthorpe had many. "What's being served?" She sniffs, and has to admit, it does smell delectable.

She listens, then merely points upwards. Nestled in rafters is a shadowy figure that already appears to be staring down at Brigid when she turns to look. Its single yellow eye is unblinking, its form amorphous and yet almost unnaturally still. "Consider yourself lucky. That's what I ended up with." She scoffs. "I've taken to calling it "Reisende", the Traveler." A bit of a joke since while Reisende's position will change, Eivor never actually sees it move or actually take flight. It's just there immobile and staring. "My other raven doesn't like it one bit."

Eivor looks down at the proffered hand and takes it, grasping Brigid's forearm. "Eivor Wolf-Kissed, of the Raven Clan." She replies with a nod. "It is good to meet you."

"Raven Clan?" Brigid asks, curiously. She's going to be taking notes tonight of the conversation. "I suppose having a raven makes sense then. Cuna, there, is a death omen in Irish mythology. I'm none too thrilled about that."

She smiles. "Come, eat. I'll bring you some of the stew and biscuits we have for dinner. You've got to be starving."

Eivor follows Brigid's gaze towards where Cuna sleeps. "Ireland? The land of the druids. Not a place I've visited yet, but I hope I do before too long." She smiles ruefully. "You should be proud! That is quite the fearsome beast; I imagine not many trouble you if they risk raising Cuna's ire."

It's an invitation Eivor gladly accepts, seating herself. "Then by all means, and afterward, join me if you will." She grins toothily, a knowing look in her eye. "You have questions. I will answer what I can for you."

Brigid laughs. "Land of the Druids? I suppose it could be called that." She admits. "I'll be right back." She says, warmly, and goes to get them both some food. The stew is chicken tonight, served almost as chicken and dumplings, but she prefers biscuits, so that's what they'd put on the menu. The hearty meal will stick to the ribs and send people home satisfied, and with the storytelling going on, with something to talk about.

She slides the bowl in front of Eivor and then sits opposite the woman, putting the small basket of biscuits in between them. "I admit, I'm a student of history, of a sort." She says, smiling. "Vikingr are not my area of expertise," unlike a barrowhound, "but I would be interested to hear tales, if you've some to tell."

It isn't really for any good reason that she's here. Azar just likes to watch the water and the ships. It's familiar in a place that's anything but. She certainly isn't expecting to be called over. So, she pauses, looking this woman over.

Hm.

"...Commission. You sail?"

Eivor nods. "I am Norse. We are raised on the sea." There wasn't a single member of the Raven Clan, warrior or otherwise, who couldn't pick up an oar, or know at least a little about navigating by coastline, or stars, or determine the often-capricious nature of the sea. "My longship didn't make the crossing with me, so I shall require a new one be built. You know of the longship?" This place was just enough like England and just enough not like England that she couldn't as yet be sure what knowledge was common to both. "I can guide you through construction if need be." A good raid leader was as much a shipwright as she was a sailor, but that assumed she had access to facilities of her own, which in Avalon she does not.

"My ship didn't make it either." It's blunt, to the point. She looks around a bit at the other ships in the harbor. None of them are quite right. "I know the kind of ship. I'm not really a construction type."

Not that she can't fix a ship, in a pinch, when required. But building one, that's a different matter. All the same, well... It isn't as if she considers herself all that helpful, either. But... maybe she's just missing working on a ship. Or maybe she's just bored. She'll unpack that later.

"...I can maybe try to help, though."

Eivor nods. "Good, I'll take the help I can get." And at least this one knows the type of ship Eivor needs. "I am Eivor, of the Raven Clan."

First thing to do would be to locate the actual shipyard...a port like this, there has to be one. "Let's try going further down, see what we find." Maybe further away from the city walls.

"So you sail too, eh. You a merchant then?"

Hm.... I don't know.... But... Perhaps I can use my water skills to dampen them? Do you think they would not be able to secret their toxin? If I do? [ Mona states, here for the money and maybe some honey. ]

Eivor considers this. "If you can blunt their venom, then perhaps I can get close enough to...to try talking to it." After all, she was supposed to be able to communicate with animals right? Surely that included those bees as well.

"Convince it to pack up and head home." She rubs her chin thoughtfully. "And maybe the others will follow. If I can get it to understand." It's as good a plan as any, even though Eivor may be overestimating her ability to communicate with a bee a little.

"Let's try it. Wet his whistle and then I'll rush in and be...diplomatic."

"Oh I like your line of thinking!" Mona states rather curtly, she hadn't know the other held Animal speaking magics. This also would mean she would be able to see the process herself on it's own. Something of which Mona the ever fervent truth seeker - desired thoroughly to understand, "Hm.. Which do you think? I do not want to make them mad either but if you feel there is one in particular I could dampen?"

As she says this her eyes swing around, the large bees which at first had skeeved her out. Are now a regular sight to behold, and after following their pathing she notes that each of them respond to one another in groups. So she ponders about using her magic for a few - in stead of one, "I think they work in groups? What if we follow one away looking for flowers? Then dampen them so they are safer to approach, and see if you can talk to them this way? Without alarming too many of them?"

Anything to make sure it would be the least dangerous result.

Eivor nods. "A sound plan. I agree." She hunkers down on her haunches next to Mona and watches carefully. A few minutes pass while the bees hum around, ignoring the two for the most part. Eivor is patient, keeping a watch out.

Finally, she points. "There. The fat one just broke off." From a group of three of the bees, a particularly round one has apparently caught a whiff of something or...whatever it that attracts bees to flowers and has buzzed off in search of it.

Eivor stands up and starts after it. "Once I'm close enough, douse it with your water and I'll see how persuasive I am." She cracks her neck from side to side. However this shakes out, it's going to be exciting, to say the least.

"And keep an eye out for the other bees. They might come investigate. You know how ornery they can get."

Mona is not without patience, and as a Astrologist settling in silence was something she were more than accustomed to. She watches with enamored as the world around them moves, thinks in length about the plan. Thinks much about the stars of other worlds, and when the more practiced individual speaks. Mona in turn, regards her with high honor.

When Eivor moves, and speaks Mona nods her head. The locks of her hair bounce about, and when she is certain the two other bees are far away. That the one they are pursuing is truly on its own, Mona raises her hands and water formulates on command. Just like that, the large be becomes doused as if a bucket had poured over its head. The body is completely drenched and it more or less is unable to do much but walk around the floor buzzing rather questionable, "Youre up- !"

Mona gives the other a nod of her head, and raises to make sure her eyes are upon the land around them. Watching out for the group that left this one alone, and hopes that those two would not come for the bee just yet!

Eivor is already airborne as Mona gives the go-ahead throwing herself onto the bee's thorax and wrapping her arms around it. The bee thrashes in alarm, and trying to avoid that rather nasty stinger, she closes her eyes and attempts to concentrate. Time to talk about the birds and the bees, so to speak. And just hope she can actually speak bee.

After a moment struggling, Eivor manages to make a buzzing noise. It's halted, in starts and stutters, but the bee's struggling begins to lessen. It's antennae twitch in a way that might suggest confusion at what's going on.

There's a fluttering of wings from behind Mona. Apparently having noticed that one of its companions seems to have moved off, one of the other bees is flying forward to see what's going on, though it doesn't seem to have seen its friend tackled to the ground by Eivor, who is so focused on her attempts at communication that she fails to pick up on the approach, leaving Mona to try and handle the investigating bee.

Mona watches the other with interest, their dexterous actions are not without envy. The natural way the warrior moves, setting them self upon the bee was a sight in itself. It distracts her momentarily until the sound of buzzing draws her back with a reminder. The bee comes closer and Mona knowing she would have to raise her voice. Spoke toward the other, "You need hurry quickly - they are coming far sooner then we had hoped!"

Mona readies her own magic and when the bee comes closer enough. Also douses that one with water, the uproar and sounds the buzzing of the bee makes. Certainly would soon draw more attention, if not all of the bees within the group. Mona attempts to also council it, a simple, "I am sorry we want to help you. Yet you lot refuse to listen."

A tightening of the muscles in Eivor's forehead and jaw and the very briefest of nods are the only indications Mona gets that she's been heard. The vikingr is having to focus as much as she can on making sure she's understandable; the bee has stopped struggling much now, but from the intensity of her buzzing, the conversation may be getting a beat heated.

The second bee collapses to the ground with the deluge, buzzing frantically. It takes no heed of Mona's admonishment, but tries to roll itself off its side and get upright. It's taking some work for such a fat little body, but the other bees are turning around, drawn by the sound of the water attack and its frantic buzzing. They beeline, so to speak, straight towards Mona and their fallen and incapacitated comrades.

At that moment however, Eivor releases her grip on the first been and rolls off it onto the floor, breathing heavily. She's rarely had to concentrate so hard on a task like that. But she's grinning with satisfaction. "I'm...pretty sure I convinced it." She tells Mona.

The lead bee, now now longer pinned by the viking, rises into the air rather easily, and brushes past Mona to meet its approaching kin. For a moment there's what rather looks to be a bee-huddle, with much buzzing between them. Mona's bee is upright, but rather than going for her, is watching curiously, its wings pressed tightly to its body. After a moment, Eivor's bee turns and dips slightly, some sort of sign or gesture and then it, and the others turn around and begin to make their way to the exit of the springs. With an unmistakable huff, the second bee trundles after them, having to follow on foot until its wings are dry again. The mission is a success, it seems.

"Managed to convince her that staying here was more trouble than it was worth." Eivor has pulled herself into a seating position. "And they'd probably not make it back in one piece, unless they left of their own accord. Not like there's much here to interest them, after all."

Eivor laughs. She can't help it; she just won a debate with a bee! "Don't think they'll be bothering this place again, at least!"

Mona was impress, her arms crossed as the Bee she had attacked adjusts accordingly. It looks over at her seemingly casting judgement, she attempts to offer another apologetic statement. As if she were talking to someone, after doing something embarrassing. A finger tucks a strand of hair out of her face and she looks about, uncertain of where her eyes should lay when apologizing to it.

The Bees take to their huddling, and admist their buzzing. Mona is already wide eyed and enjoying the seeming dispute between them. Attempting to log their actions and antics thusly. Everything were a new ordeal for the woman of Teyvat, whom eyes were adjusted to star and now taking in the rise of everything new. They too give her a look of judgement, as if the statement 'It is more trouble then its worth.' Was proven by Mona's strange alien actions alone.

They move about and leave, causing the Astrologist to let out of excited cheer, "Yayy!! It worked."

Girlish it were, she turns to the new stranger and her eyes glimmer with excitement, "So HOW was it using such magic? Please do not skim the details, it seemed like it was all telepathic was it?"

Geralt both hopes and doesn't that they'll eventually see the man again. With luck, the horse's owner is only a simple merchant and not someone with, say. Connections to the city guards. Whoever they might be.

Either way, no point in worrying far ahead. His more pressing concern is getting to their destination, so he can finally 1) have some peace and quiet; 2) get his damn leg fixed; and 3) dry off. (His priorities are roughly in that order.)

"Healing," he replies. "Looked worse a day ago." At least he can walk on it again. Kind of.

The horse canters along at a steady pace. Now that he's not dragging himself along, he can admit the scenery is pretty damn nice. Bright, almost overflowing with vegetation. He watches it go by, already silently mapping the new land.

"Were you alone when you fell in here?"

She'll leave the horse where she promised it would be, and consider that the end of it. If the gentleman doesn't agree, well it wouldn't be the first time Eivor's had to get out of a town in a hurry. These places tend to have short memories anyway. What is life meant for if not to be lived interestingly?

"Quite sturdy, aren't you?" She notes, sparing a glance back. That wound didn't look like a small nick after all, and she's seen cuts like that fell bigger men. "Towns like this have medicines, chirugeons. Someone to take a look at that. What did you say got you again?"

She nods, focusing on what she can see of the road ahead. "At first, yes. If there is another warrior of the Raven Clan here, I've not seen them yet." Or any other vikingr or...anyone familiar. "But I did find my raven when I was told to fetch my belongings from inside that...that door. Not very happy, mind you." She nods upwards. "She's up there somewhere. I'd be using her to track our progress, but I can't seem to connect with her the way I used to." Which is a shame, being able to get the lay of the land from up above would be immensely useful right about now.

"Never as sturdy as I'd like," he replies. He tugs on the bandage to tighten it. He could really use a change—but it'll have to wait until he's found himself a roof over his head. "Just a ghoul. Got lucky."

And he'd gotten lucky, too, that the venom is no longer a factor. As long as the wound heals, he'll be fine. There's obviously something on his mind, something he isn't saying, but Geralt doesn't add any more information than that. Instead, he listens to Eivor, whose appearance and behavior tells him she'd fit well in Skellige.

He glances upwards with her. The raven circles ahead amongst the heavy grey clouds.

"Connect?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

April Catch-All

Raven Vision

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Skal!

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I'm sorry about how late this reply is, feel free to drop if you want

Never, I backtag forever!

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We Come From The Land of the Ice & Snow

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Quest: Humble Bundle

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TDM

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