this day like so many others (open)
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#1
Life had been quiet and mundane and exhausting, and then the portals opened. The problem is, she still can’t decide if this is a good or bad thing. Fresh meat is both good and bad, depending on the breed, and she’s mostly been avoiding them all and wondering if her and Korbin shouldn’t get the hell out while the getting was good. But go where? The portals worked, but barely, sending her to a land of the Fae or a place even more overrun with Outlanders that she wasn’t sure it was better. Warmer, but they were used to the bitter cold.

Besides, this was home. Weaver couldn’t quite imagine leaving her little corner of hell or the place that had killed her once and tried to kill her again and again. Mort didn’t want her any more than any of the other gods, old or new, it seemed, because she seemed to be made up of nine lives. She couldn’t imagine leaving behind the hole of a bar that she frequented or the fact that she knew every face and had slept with quite a number of them. It was adorable how some of them blushed and blubbered around her.

The sun today, like so many days, is blinding. The world is white from the reflection rather than a snow storm, but regardless of the reason it makes hunting rather a non-option and so Weaver finds herself in her favorite little tavern. She doesn’t order here, just sits at the bar in the stool that is almost always empty because everyone who lives here knows it’s her stool and the bartender slaps what passes for liquor around here down in front of her and maybe a hunk of dried meat if she’s lucky.

The place is a hole in the wall, the sort of place an Outlander isn’t likely to come and like them in general, she wonders if this is good or bad. It might be good to get out and meet someone of them, or make her way into real civilization and see if she can find out what important shit has been going down but instead she ends up here. If there are Outlanders that make it here, they are likely to be the sort that she would like given their taste in places to visit. Most likely, she’d pass this day like so many others, making small talk with the bartender and doing absolutely nothing waiting for the world to stop trying to burn her retinas.  

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#2
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

The sun beat down relentlessly above the frozen tundra of his home. While the southerners knew the warmth and desire of the sun, the Halovians could not always recognize it as a good thing. It was blinding, harsh, and cruel. Like everything here. The sun -- though not welcome by the hunter -- must even feel at home among the frozen land with frozen people. Without the prospect of a hunt on this day, Noah resigned himself to find the company of others. The man did not always seek this out. He was generally reserved, and introverted, but he had decided it good today to seek company. He could not remember the last day he had talked with anyone aside from Ezekiel, and even the man who preferred the company of few recognized this to be unhealthy.

The tavern always had people. Whether or not they were the people one would want to converse with was always questionable, but the undeniable fact of warm bodies called to the blond man. He moved through the threshold with ease. The door creaked at his entrance and a few weary eyes -- Halovian eyes -- lifted to greet him. Simple nods followed, a few gentle smiles and raising of glasses here and there made a sense of familiarity warm over the man's chest. His blue eyes traveled over the crowd in the bar, quite full even for midday. He knew some of these people to essentially live in this tavern, drowning whatever life they had in the tundra down with liquor. Seeing those that chose this made his face soften, and frown. As his eyes adjusted to the change in light, he lowered the hood of his head and shook out the cold from his fingers.

Still armed with the frown and familiarity, Noah made his way toward the bar. Finding a seat he settled in and turned his head briefly toward the bartender. It was a wordless transaction, but in mere seconds Noah had an ale before him. "Weaver," Noah said after taking a drink, turning to the familiar girl he had not initially made intentional notice of before taking his drink, "How are you faring?"

Those who knew Noah Olson knew he was not a master wordsmith, and with this woman he had known most of his life, he did not try to pretend. He lifted a brow, raising his eyes to her's, a gentle smile pulling at his bearded face.

NOAH OLSON
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#3
They were both similarly reserved. Despite Weaver’s reputation, she doesn't often seek out others. Life here was hard enough, and her time was spent hunting (a thing made so much harder without John and Erebor to help her), trading, and trying not to die. It didn’t leave much energy for small talk, except on days like today when there was no other choice of anything to do. It felt like wasted time. It might have been her stool but mostly because in small towns, in run-down little taverns, there were only so many people frequenting them anyway that her spare time spent here felt like a lot. It probably wasn’t as much as it felt like, given that she usually had other things to be doing. But damn if a girl didn’t need a drink to warm her bones after a long day here.

She doesn’t pay much mind when the door creaks open. The tavern was busy (well, busy by Halo’s standards) today anyway, and she’s too preoccupied wondering if she shouldn’t go see the world outside Halo. Not leave for good, but leave long enough to find out what’s been going on, to maybe score some half decent, sun-fattened game and come back home to Korbin. Her brother was itching to leave, to be his charming self somewhere else and gain information. It was a thing he was good at, a thing Weaver was decent enough at given simply the existence of her breasts. Men liked to talk to breasts.

She pays slightly more mind when someone sits down next to her, only because she is not oblivious. He orders a drink in the same way she had, without words, and in a moment an ale sits in front of him. The ale was worse than the liquor here though, and so she’d always figured if she was going to drink piss it might as well be the stuff that got her drunk faster. Well, as drunk as anyone could afford to be in Halo, which was probably really just slightly buzzed. He is the first to speak though, and Weaver finally actually turns to him at the sound of a familiar voice.

If anyone had to interrupt her brooding, she is glad it is Noah. He was on the rather short list of men she hadn’t slept with in Halo, which was awkward or not depending on how you looked at it. Really, it’s not that she wouldn’t but rather that she wasn’t a complete idiot. Don’t shit where you eat, and all that. Their paths crossed regularly, given that they both hunted, both provided. They were colleagues, in a sense, and she had no interest in messing that up with some casual, bored, one-night stand.

“Noah,” she says with a grin that is a real grin, and not something designed with ulterior motives in mind. Her braid, as ever, hangs over her scar. It’s a stupid habit of hers, like somehow her hair can hide the truth. Her near death (no, she’d died, they said her heart had stopped) and Erebor’s real death was a well known story in Halo. Just because they didn’t see the scar didn’t make it less real. Still, it was a habit and comfort she allowed herself. “Blind, hungry, bored. So I’d say I’m doing great, as most of this is pretty normal around here. How are you?”

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens

Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 2 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 11
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#4
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

When she turned toward him his smile broadened, matching her's. He had always liked Weaver, and her family. He knew the horrors she had faced, he knew the heaviness of losing those you loved. They shared this, the Hales and the Olsons, this orphan life. These orphan hearts. The Halovians were a rugged, enduring sort of people, but families like the Hales and the Olsons knew this differently--lived this differently. He took another swig of the ale, hissing at its taste as he swallowed. He didn't know why he always asked for this, but he drank it nonetheless and continued to every time he came in. Habit, he guessed.

"Ah, yeah." He laughed some, rolling his shoulders in as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bar counter. "Just another day in Halo." His mother had been an optimistic sort of woman, and the way Weaver responded reminded him of that. The world could have been going to complete shit outside of their windows, but Anya had always made it seem like there was a silver lining somewhere. As a child Noah had often found this annoying, but in her absence it was a pang in his heart. "Been trying to fill up on as much game as we can, but I've hit a bit of a dry streak." Business, sometimes, was his way to ease any turmoil. "I think some of it has to do with those Outlanders coming in. More traffic, more people, less animals."

NOAH OLSON
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#5
Weaver takes a sip of her own mug of piss (it did not really deserve to be called ale), and she can understand why Noah hisses at it. Yet here they are, drinking it anyway. Soon enough she’d have her own bar, with decent booze from other parts of Caido and some cider from the book Maea had given her. Soon enough she’d have a life outside of hunting day in and day out. But still, she understands the struggles of their everyday life in Halo, even if hers was slowly changing.

”I’ve got a little extra dried meat, if you get strapped.” She thinks of the ursur meat from the Academy, drying in her back room, and the luxure she’d scored after showing Wessex around. Korbin and she had been rationing it, just in case life and all their plans went south come Deepfrost, but he wouldn’t mind her sharing some with Noah. That is what they do here in Halo, after all. They keep each other alive. She knows it all too well as an orphan, and she suspects Noah is familiar with the same brand of kindness.

”What do you think of all the Outlanders?” she asks. Hell, simply of all the outsiders traipsing through Halo like it’s a vacation. Not that she could really judge, having befriended a number of them and traipsing through other areas herself, but still, it was hard not to talk about it a little.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 2 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 11
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#6
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

Noah had no idea about Weaver's aspirations. They had not spent much--any--time talking about things like that. In all their time knowing each other, they had not made it much further than hunting, and survival, and the hardship of living in Halo. Part of this was on Noah's part. He was not skilled in making friends, and duty often crowded his mind and his heart more than anything else did. He took another drink of his ale before deciding he was finished with it, though it was only half empty.

"I sent Ezekiel out yesterday and he hasn't returned yet. I'm hoping he brings something back with him, but if he doesn't I'll let you know. We have some stores, but we're going to be busting our asses before Deepfrost comes. Could be any day, though." He leaned back in the stool some, holding the bar counter to steady himself. He shrugged though, rolling his head some to stretch his neck. He felt stiff, and he had finally been sitting still long enough to notice.

"The outsiders...well, I haven't met many of them, actually. Well, really only one. Wessex." He shrugged again, "I haven't been avoiding them, exactly, I've just been trying to do life as normal. My brother, on the other hand, is itching to explore the world and all its wonders now that we can actually leave Halo." It had been a constant fight between the two of them, actually, and Noah had won only by telling Ezekiel that he could explore and leave Halo if he helped gather enough food for them to survive the Deepfrost.

NOAH OLSON
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#7
She sighs at the mention of Deepfrost. ”It seems entirely unfair that Deepfrost hits us well before the rest of the island,” she says, though it is clear she does not expect anything different. That is their lot in life, and in truth, even with the portals open and the possibility of moving before her, she would not leave. Halo is home, even if that means suffering through another Deepfrost, buried beneath mountains of snow and huddled by the fire for warmth. She isn’t sure her newfound cold resistance magic will even be enough to help when the weather turns for the worse. ”You know where to find me if you need anything,” she adds, always willing to help the Olson’s out.

Weaver listens as he answers her question, nodding at the mention of Wessex. ”She seems to be around a lot,” Weaver notes, having met the demi-god herself. She’d also seen the woman in Torchline on multiple occasions, so she didn’t think it particularly nefarious, though she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly The Voice had her children doing. More portals, certainly. But was that really it?

”Your brother sounds like me, and you sound like my brother,’ she adds with a chuckle. ”Korbin suggested our first trip to the Grounds, but after that, he hasn’t left and seems to hate that I keep leaving.” There was a world out there to explore. Opportunities. Possibilities. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t wonder if Halo could be restored to what it once was, before it became the unforgiving Tundra they all knew so well. ”The Hallowed Grounds are still largely a ruin, though Torchline is rather enjoyable. In either there is good trading though.” New foods with colors they only dreamed of in Halo, for starters.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
Played by: Kyra Offline
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#8
She sighs at the mention of Deepfrost. ”It seems entirely unfair that Deepfrost hits us well before the rest of the island,” she says, though it is clear she does not expect anything different. That is their lot in life, and in truth, even with the portals open and the possibility of moving before her, she would not leave. Halo is home, even if that means suffering through another Deepfrost, buried beneath mountains of snow and huddled by the fire for warmth. She isn’t sure her newfound cold resistance magic will even be enough to help when the weather turns for the worse. ”You know where to find me if you need anything,” she adds, always willing to help the Olson’s out.

Weaver listens as he answers her question, nodding at the mention of Wessex. ”She seems to be around a lot,” Weaver notes, having met the demi-god herself. She’d also seen the woman in Torchline on multiple occasions, so she didn’t think it particularly nefarious, though she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly The Voice had her children doing. More portals, certainly. But was that really it?

”Your brother sounds like me, and you sound like my brother,’ she adds with a chuckle. ”Korbin suggested our first trip to the Grounds, but after that, he hasn’t left and seems to hate that I keep leaving.” There was a world out there to explore. Opportunities. Possibilities. And she would be lying if she said she didn’t wonder if Halo could be restored to what it once was, before it became the unforgiving Tundra they all knew so well. ”The Hallowed Grounds are still largely a ruin, though Torchline is rather enjoyable. In either there is good trading though.” New foods with colors they only dreamed of in Halo, for starters.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 2 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 11
Played by: Time Offline
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#9
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

Noah did not have many negative thoughts plaguing his mind about Deepfrost. He knew what needed t be done and he was trying his best to make it happen. Business and life as usual. He wondered if Weaver had always felt this way, or if these feelings that he interpreted as bitterness only sprouted since the opening of the portals. Knowledge of the rest of the world seemed to be twisting some people's minds about Halo. Noah, well, he loved Halo. This was his home. All he had ever known was ice and snow and cold and survival. The idea of traveling the world and broadening his horizons seemed a fine thought to have, but it did not entice him like it seemed to so many others -- maybe even Weaver herself?

He nodded, a small hmm of thought leaving his lips. This Wessex character seemed to be quite popular. "I'm interested to see if any outlanders will make Halo their permanent home, outside of those already leading out government, that is." Noah had yet to meet the knew council, and he didn't feel strongly about them being outlanders. He only wanted Halo to thrive, and if they were able to make that happen, the elder Olson would welcome it. Their rule so far had not hindered his life, and so long as it continued that way, the man would feel indifferent about it all.

He perked up at the mention of trading with the other lands. This caught his interest. Ezekiel was awfully charismatic, and his charm often got them the better end of trading deals here in the frostland. "I wouldn't mind opening up some trade between the different places in the world. What have you found thats interesting?"

NOAH OLSON
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#10
She was just always slightly bitter. For all she loved the outside world, and for all the time she found herself spending elsewhere, Halo would still be home. Her own personal slice of hell, yet she loved it. The snow and the ice sang in her veins in a way that only a Halovian could ever understand. The freedom of the portals was a beautiful thing, and she did not take for granted the opportunity to live a life full of something more. All that did not mean she loved Halo less though.

She chuckles slightly at the mention of outlanders coming here. ”Maybe, though the ones I’ve met wonder why the hell any of us stay here.” The way she says it suggests that only they would understand why Halo remains home. This wasn’t a place for everyone, and she didn’t tell just anyone they ought to come visit. Some people simply did not belong here. Still, for those that are interested, she always tells them to find her, because she will make sure they love it, even if only a little. ”I’m not even sure most of our government would be here if not for Neron.” Like Noah, she had not met the Warden, though she knew the rest of his cabinet. She did not care where they came from so long as they did right by Halo, though from what she had heard, she is not sure she can trust them. At least, not all of them.

”Green stuff,” she says with a wry smile. Green stuff is very interesting. ”I’ve met carpenters, bakers, found all sorts of herbs which impart flavors we don’t dare dream of here. They just have more resources elsewhere, and it’s all different than here.” She may love Halo, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy flavor in her food. A girl gets tired of ningo, eventually.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


No permission needed for power playing; just no killing
Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 2 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 11
Played by: Time Offline
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Posts: 277
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#11
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

He laughed, deep and loud. "The cold is frightening." Perhaps she was right -- the outlanders thought the Halovians insane for living here. Especially now that they had the option to leave. Noah had noticed that some had migrated away from the frozen nest of their home, but it was mostly young idealists and rebels -- like Ezekiel. Those who were older, more prone to leaning into their duty and sitting stubborn in their ways stayed here -- like Noah.

He must have changed his mind about his ale, because he reached out to take another drink. He didn't have many opinions on the government, at this point, and so he only responded to what she had to say about what she had seen in the outside world. Green was his favorite color, after all. "You're making it sound amazing." He smiled at her, teasingly. "I might just have to forget building up my own store for Deepfrost. Whatever I find I'll trade away for herbs and spices and anything green. Then I'll come back here and eat off of what you've got preserved." He nudged her arm with his elbow. "And I'll think about sharing some of my green stuff." He winked at her and laughed again, deep and loud and warm.

NOAH OLSON
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#12
”And yet it doesn’t keep them from coming here,” she says, taking another swig from the piss they call booze. It was getting harder to drink the stuff knowing there was actually good alcohol in the Grounds and Torchline. She can’t help but think of The Hang Man and the mamajuana, it’s syrupy sweetness that she could never drink more than one of at any given time. Still, it had been like swinging in a honey hammock in the shade, a simile that Weaver was finally starting to understand. Torchline was probably going to make her soft.

She chuckles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ”I offered to help, not to feed two large boys. Korbin eats enough, though gods only know where it all goes on him.” Her brother was a reedy thing, though he did eat. She supposes too many lean years had left him sinewy instead of muscular, though some of that she thinks is just him. Erebor had been a mountain, after all. ”You eat all my meat and I won’t tell you where to get decent booze,” she adds with a wink.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


No permission needed for power playing; just no killing
Noah Olson
Chief of Public Affairs / Hunter

Age: 28 | Height: 6'2 | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 2 - Strg: 14 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 11
Played by: Time Offline
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Posts: 277
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#13
Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost

It took a few minutes for his laugh to die down, and around him he heard a few grumbles. He was used to it--he laughed loud and open and deep. Who in Halo had the right to be as happy as his laugh sounded...at least, that was the general feeling on the group of grumpy older men that huddled in the corner and told most others to fuck off and leave them alone. Leaning forward on the counter and finishing off his drink, Noah leaned in close to Weaver.

"Now, now," he started, blue eyes softening up. He tilted his chin some so he had to look up at her through thick eyebrows, "That's not very fair." He smiled at her still, a crooked and cheeky grin that seemed too comfortable on his lips. He leaned in closer yet, still looking up at her with ice eyes that tinged playfully. "I need decent booze to keep me compliant. Otherwise I'm moving in and totally eating up your storehouse."

NOAH OLSON
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 27 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22
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#14
She laughed all the time, loud and as if she didn’t live in the middle of a Tundra. They ought to enjoy life, even if it was hard and cold and cruel. Weaver gives the old men grumbling in the corner her best and sweetest ‘fuck you’ look, before turning back to Noah and taking a sip of her piss-booze with a shit-eating grin on her face.

As he leans in, she joins him conspiratorially, though as he finishes speaking she raises her eyebrows with an ‘uh-huh’ look written all over her face. ”I am very hard to get past. You should probably know this,” she says, still playful and teasing and enjoying the moment of fun. Even if the grumpy old men were annoyed by them. ”Though there may be an opportunity for me to open a place here. With good booze.” Because wonky timelines or they totally would be at the Kraai now.

weaver

-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --

Quote by Charles Dickens


No permission needed for power playing; just no killing


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