Bjarni’s Settlement is a modest holding on a rocky, inhospitable coast, where a narrow fjord provides a safe anchorage and a shingle beach allows a ship to be wintered in safety, repaired and made good, and careened and pitched against the weed and barnacles when the weather will allow her to put to sea. A few dozen souls eke out a peaceful existence wringing crops from the poor soil during the short growing season and pasturing cattle on the scrubby hillsides, and supplement their meagre lifestyle with the proceeds of successful raids on the fat, lazy lands beyond the sea. It is a hard life, but it breeds hardy men that are the scourge of the earth, tough independent-minded men who bend the knee to none.
Here on the edge of Spring Bjarni Thorstein himself has returned from a time of feasting with blood on his hands. Such unfortunately will happen from time to time among men who would forget their breeks sooner than their sword, axe or spear, and who entertain themselves with drinking and much rough play and jest. But it is well, before drawing sword on any man, to consider well whether he has powerful friends or relations who will take ill any harm that befall him; and this, sadly, Bjarni was too deep in drink to do.
As the thralls busy themselves hoeing and dunging the fields for the Spring planting, Bjarni and his closest friends and advisors are at council in his hall…
Ulf Andersson, a close friend of Bjarni, pledges to stand by him.
As a Berserker, Ulf understands combat rage. He also believes it was a fair fight, even if others will not consider that fact before coming for bloody revenge.
“Wait, let me get this straight though-” speaks up Osvald, a tall lanky figure, nervously playing with his robes. “You, Bjarni- little Bjarni Thorstein from down the way- *killed *a man? As in… he’s not alive? He’s considered dead?”
Ovald, who has not seen Bjarni since he was a child, is still stunned by this suprising news from earlier.
He shakes his head, puzzled. “Oh this is not good. Not good at all! I still do not understand, Bjarni! Why would you do such a thing? You did not MEAN to kill him, right? You were always a kind person to me long ago, even when the other children were not. What caused this change? It must have been an accident. Yes, an accident, right? Oh, what are we going to do?”
I am Bjarni Thorstein fighter and swordsman. As chieftain of the Bjarni Settlement it is my duty and honor to protect the men and women of this settlement from harm and injustice.
My sword, “Grendel’s Bane,” serves me well in protecting my people from opportunistic creatures that threaten the settlement, but I fear that the might of my sword alone will not be enough to protect my charges from injustice, jealousy, and the pride of man.
My longship, Black Snake, is newly repaired and ready to launch into the cold and formidable sea.
I take council with my most trusted friends and advisors as we call upon the wisdom of Tyr to guide us between the slim line between revenge and justice.
“Do we know that Jarl will seek revenge? How can we act against Jarl Hrothgar without knowing his intentions? Sverre Grey-hair is a wise and honest man. I do not doubt his view of Jarl, but initiating conflict with Jarl is not just. Yet, I can not stand idle and endanger the lives of those I am honor bound to protect.”
Sorry to interrupt, but could we get a list of all characters? (either here or in the setup thread)
Jorund, I believe you’re a Berserker - would you like to describe your abilities in the setup thread?
“Is there any way we can seek council of Sverre and perhaps find others who could testify on your side, Bjarni? Perhaps Jarl will realize this matter is a foolish one if he sees there are others on your side, willing to aid you? Might makes right, and all that uncivilized business, right?
O-o-or, perhaps we could settle on an appropriate punishment by a Court of elders, if you would be willing to do that for the good of the Town? Hopefully, a nonviolent one. Perhaps some civic tasks? We could build him a boat or raise some funds for his brother’s family! That should settle things, right?” asks Osvald, hoping to hear a peaceful solution.
Osvald just stares puzzled at what the Berserker just said. His face wrinkles, as he’s lost in thought, and then a moment of insight strikes him. He addressed Jorund: “Oh yes! Yes! Sword Bad! No stick with sword! Hmm… oh dear, lets see… how you do say this… Ah. ‘How? You : points to Jorund: Make know?’ :Turning back to the others:Perhaps this fellow has some witnesses or allies that could back you up, Bjarni?”
“Fighting… Yes. It always comes back to fighting.” glumly mutters Osvald, looking at his Spear. “Stupid Might makes Right. Why not something clever like mind over matter? Noooo… it’s always by Tyr’s right hand, or by Odin’s Spear! No one ever cares about the ravens, what about the ravens? Been back in town less than a week from school, and it’s like old times. What about the Ravens?” Osvald continues quietly muttering to himself about the laughter of the Gods, and the past coming back to haunt him in present.
“It would come back to fighting,” Ivar grumbles. “Always does. Running away at this point would be an admission of guilt- let us approach the Jarl before we do something foolish.”
The discussion is interrupted by the abrupt arrival of a young field-thrall who, well aware of the impropriety of bursting in under the chieftain’s own roof while he is at council with his equals, falls to his knees. “Pardon, master, but men approach,” he gasps, out of breath from running, “ten - from the north - horsed, armed and armoured. They go at pace and are but a few minutes behind.”
Bjarni’s nearest neighbour to the north is Ketil of the High Cliffs, a smaller and poorer holding than Bjarni’s. He is no very great friend.
“Oh dear. Oh. Oh. That can’t be good at ALL… Did you see who was in charge of them? Did they all look the same? Perhaps they’re just coming to deliver us a message. Yes! A message, that’s why they’re heavily armed… and armoured… and oh… this just isn’t good.
Is there anyone who could try to see what business they have here? Perhaps a kindly old gentleman or young field thrall?” :dubious:
Osvald the wizard nervously looks around at the calmer faces bracing themselves, and begins to fidget, his voice picking up speed, "What are we going to do? Can we please not fight right away? Someone should talk to them first. The rest of us should hide and see if there’s any danger! I volunteer for the latter task! Though I don’t think Bjarni you should be the one to greet them, first we should see their intentions. And pray to Odin that we don’t have to use the last resort first. "
Responding to the first question, the thrall answers “Sir, I know not. Ottar the thrall overseer, seeing that the visitors were coming fast, sent me straightaway, ere we could rightly see who they were.”
Osvald stares slackjawed that the one who volunteers to go and “greet” the group of soldiers is… well… “Mr. Sword Bad…”
“Really? That’s the best we’ve got? Someone… someone should go with him.” He grimaces, realizing what he’s about to do “The rest of you should do something- oh I don’t know. Strategic? Pack? Get supplies ready? Figure out the boat business.
I’ll try to go and talk to them. See if they mean to peacefully talk to you. If there’s a problem, look for the flash of light, and two people (hopefully I hope- *two *people) running back here in great haste!
Does anyone else have any better ideas? Or want to volunteer to go talk to them? I am a great packer, I must mention that. Certainly know how to fold sheets, gather up supplies. Anyone?” says Osvald slowly and reluctantly going over to the large berserker with the Hammer.