And the dead keep it
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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#1


Are
Quiet as an armored ox he stalked the halls plunged in darkness, drifting from wall to bench to whatever served as temporary harbor for the barely upright man. The same that not many moons before had sneered at the drunk ramblings of a wayward thief as nothing more than the result of a pickled mind. Yet now he found himself deep in a now empty tankard, with a purpose, and stubborn determination only just overcoming the need for a good nights rest and a good nights hangover.

Helped by his size but hindered by his lack of experience, it hadn't taken many drinks 'til Are stumbled out of the Rathskeller headed for some lofty goal, only to be side-tracked and now finding himself planted on a bench trying to make heads or tails of his ideas. There was something about simple questions, maybe it had something to do with the slim stoneware bottle of... He uncorked it and had a little sniff which he regretted immediately. Seemed to the cobbler turned warrior he'd brought enough liquor to make just about anything seem comfortable enough for a little nap.

Another short stumble walk later and it dawned on him what he'd set out to do. His shoes had known, as he found himself at the base of a dimly lit altar, surrounded by small offerings. Among them he placed his little gift, kneeling as he'd done before, but this time with a mind so much clearer. Thanks to, or in spite of his state of sobriety.

"Shepherd, caretaker of the dead, Ludo. I, Are, have come to ask of you yet another favor. I bring a small gift as a token of my good will. I have purpose now, beyond what was..." his slurred, mumbled ramblings thankfully didn't travel far beyond the chamber, but echoed enough to hasten Are to get to the point. "Sorry... I, your willing servant, have come to ask for help in ending the war between new and old." it had sounded far better in his head than cut up by his accent and served by a numb tongue. He spoke from his heart, because gods knew his mind was nowhere to be found.
Force and magic use OK.
Spooky Rags

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#2
ludo
"Ending the war between old and new." Ludo had been hearing this more and more recently, and the deity drifted down to the shrine as if it had been resting up in the rafters of the Temple (it had - it liked to watch the prayers).

"You are beginning to sound like the woman with the large sword." It cared not whether Are knew who that was, Ludo settling before the drunk man to coil a slip of cloth around the stoneware bottle, lifting it up.

"What is this?" it asked. "And what do you intend to do, to end the war? What, indeed, that would need the help of a guardian of souls?"

Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#3


Are
Kneeling was a good position, Are thought to himself as that bone-chilling voice whispered as if straight to his soul. Kneeling kept him from falling over, from what exactly was debatable, but that icy shiver sent him shuddering as if a stiff breeze had gone up his spine. With it it took whatever courage the man had managed to muster, liquid or otherwise.

Fortunately panic had him like panic alway had him, paralyzed 'til his faculties could catch up and unclench both jaw and fist. With it a deep breath, had the air grown colder even?

"Vi-ski, will cost me a fair few hours to repay, but I thought you'd appreciate something a bit more fancy." he mumbled to the figure, completely at a loss as to where all his pretty words had went.

"I, uh, I mean... Roana, the lady with the big blade... She, uh, we, as a matter of fact. We were discussing the lay of the land and she was reading and... uh. Long story short; she said I was a fool but I thought why not ask for help? We're on the same side after all, she thinks, I think..." Are said, meandering, rambling, and maybe even slurring a bit. Finally he arrived at some kind of point to his mess of words. "Look, The Voice... Our enemy, how would one fight her, and how can we help in fighting her?"
Force and magic use OK.
Spooky Rags

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#4
ludo
As the mortal man beneath it spoke and stumbled over his words, Ludo tilted the bottle this way and that before placing it down again to listen properly. (The sound of this vi-ski was pleasant enough, but it didn't know what it was meant to do with such stuff). "Spit it out," it said, just as Are did so - thankfully.

With a sigh as heavy as the centuries spent in captivity, Ludo allowed itself to drift towards the ground. "How can we fight her, he asks, as if it did not take the combined power of the Old Gods to dispatch her before." Its masked head shook side to side, like it was puzzled.

"One would not fight her. One would fight her heralds - the Ascended," it said.

Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#5


Are
It could've been the ale and lack sleep that had put him well below what limited level of attention he kept, but Are could almost had sworn he had just been ordered to go to war. Ordered by the shepherd of the dead no less. Suddenly wide awake, the order, laden with latent power, broke through the ale-induced miasma. Words having Are upright and stiff as a corpse all of a sudden.

On one hand, he had said it first, and been scolded for it by Roana. Just as he had in a sudden lapse of judgement had blurted out as it formed in his head. Genocide, she had called it. A pretty word for something so final and unfitting for whatever kind of hero he imagined himself as. Doubt, niggling doubt, not with whether to listen to the god, but if he was in any position to refuse.

"By the gods... That's, uh... I mean, I said the same thing, but Roana, the lady with the big sword, thought me brash and mad!" he stammered, trying desperately to find a way out of the corner he was slowly backing into. "Heh, although she might be more inclined to the Keeper of souls, the keeper of soles don't carry as much clout." he joked and laughed meekly as a cold sweat sprung up at the nape of his neck.

Another realization struck, the Shepherd wasn't asking.

"I... I am just a cobbler though, a warrior, barely, but what am I supposed to do? They'd have me in pieces and sent to Valhall before I even cleared leather!"
Force and magic use OK.
Spooky Rags

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#6
ludo
"Because you are brash and mad," Ludo said with a titter, and for a moment its mask tilted in a full circle, as if to prove the point to Are. "But that does not change how necessary the task is. Those who spread the word of the Voice will only spread her taint." Examining the mortal before it, Ludo drew closer until they were all but nose to nose. It examined the drunk man, staring hard out of an expressionless mask, before rearing back again.

"You come asking for help and balk when it is given?" It snorted petulantly. "Bring me an iron ingot," it said. "And water from The Drop within the Greatwood. Bring this to the shrine within my woods, and I will create your defence for you."

Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker ☆ Artisan's Guild
Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#7


Are
The short moment of amusement, played or genuine, reflected in the drunk Are. A chord struck by the Shepherd of the drowned, muted the very next moment as the subject at hand took precedence over simple pleasures, no matter the level of inebriation. Then it got close, far too close. Just a breath away and the cobbler shivered, but not from fear, only cold. The bone chilling breath of the depths whispering to a son left just a moment too early, one now coming back with his hat in hand and kneeling. Truth be told, not that Are would listen to the particular one, he longed for the depths. For in their grasp, at the brink of death, he had never felt so alive.

He swallowed hard and nodded at the order given. Gospel from the mouth of a god without mouth, truth that was as inevitable and undeniable as the death that spoke it. "I will, Shepherd. I will do what is necessary." he answered at last, almost whispering and desperately trying to reign in an unruly body leaking cold sweat and dignity.
Force and magic use OK.


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