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Unworthy of Valhalla

Unworthy of Valhalla

[ CLOSED ] Private RP

1574 readers have visited this universe since Scar.- created it. juliebarnes are listed as curators.
Topics: action, fiction, hunters, magic, mature, norse, norway, original, scandinavian, vikings, witchcraft, and witches (Add Tags »)
Requires Approval: Yes

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Introduction

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Vikings, not known to be overly friendly but a powerful people, came into existence toward the end of the 8th century. Their homelands stretched across Europe, but commonly took hold in Scandinavian lands, Denmark, Sweden and Norway. Known for their advanced navigational and nautical skills, they were seen as savages and pirates, traversing many seas raiding, trading, slaving and establishing new settlements.

Christianity began to sweep through the world like wildfire, igniting everything it touched in a blaze. By the 11th century, its talons had begun to work its way into the Viking culture. With dynasties legitimized by the Catholic Church, these nations began to assert themselves and their dioceses throughout the Viking territory. The arrival of the Catholic Church destroyed their economy, while forcing their religion, beliefs and way of life upon these savages. Those who refused to reform fled deeper into Scandinavian lands hoping to outrun the reach of Catholicism.

But as the end of the 11th century drew near, more Vikings gave into the new order. What little of them that remained faithful to their Norse deities and way of life congregated in Geiranger along with those who still practiced witchcraft. The new religion and those who practiced it saw Vikings as Pagan savages for worshipping multiple deities, while witchcraft became a damnable offense.

For some time, they lived in peace, rebuilding their lives in Geiranger. But as more Vikings were converted over to Christianity, groups of inquisitors and hunters came into existence. These fanatics sought to eradicate the Norse religion and purge Europe of all dark practices of false religion and witchcraft.


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As time pushed onward, those left in Geiranger were forced to bend their will to the unsavory means of Christians. Fearing the end of the Vikings, they gave in, accepting the new religion. What witches remained quickly went into hiding, some even refraining from the practice entirely. But, with the growing power and fear of these Christians, some of the weaker Vikings divulged the identities of the remaining witches to save themselves from further torment.

With the help of the traitors, the hunters found a spell that gave them the power to exorcise the souls from the witches, imprisoning them in a parallel dimension, making them unable to ascend to Valhalla. Of course, this wasn't successful the first try, but with enough persuasion and extortion, they got the aid of a witch and perfected the spell.

Regardless whether they were peaceful witches that drew their powers from nature or used darker magics, the hunters gathered all the witches, and even those only rumored to practice witchcraft, to the center of the village. They were all ushered onto a large pyre and tied to stakes, while the rest of the villagers were forced to watch in stunned silence.

As the ritual began and the fire worked its way up their feet, the witches soon realized what was in store for them. There was no way to reverse the spell, but that didn't mean they would go down without a fight. One by one, they began chanting their own counter curse, their voices joining together as the flames consumed them until nothing was left but ash and rubble. What the hunters didn't realize then was that they hadn't snuffed witchcraft from the land nor did they know the meaning of the words they chanted.


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Witchcraft and magic is but a legend to those in Geiranger, aside from those who practice in hiding and the hunters that still linger there. Under the noses of the humans that reside in the village, a war is on the brink. The hunters are the law in Geiranger, patrolling the streets day and night for signs of magic, while protecting the beacon that powers the parallel dimension where so many souls are trapped.

For the past few decades, witchcraft has been growing in the shadows as more and more citizens find that they too possess the gift. But with the growth of magic, more deaths follow as the hunters work day and night to remove them as quickly as they arrive. Unknown to them, the parallel dimension not only gains more souls with each witch they exorcise, but with each hunter that passes on too.

War between the witches and hunters is on the cusp, as knowledge of the trapped souls threatens to surface. Those who live in the small village will be forced to choose a side, protect the beacon and erase witchcraft from existence or help those who practice magic destroy the beacon so that their ancestors may finally enter the gates of Valhalla.


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Rules

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Hello! And thank you for your interest in our RP :)

Scar.- & juliebarnes are currently looking for two more writers to join us in this small group RP. Due to the small number of available positions, we were having an application process instead of first come first serve. We felt this would give anyone who is interested an even and fair chance to join. The decision of who will be admitted into the RP is a decision we both come to together. We are being thorough in this process because we would like to avoid this RP dying out or people ghosting out of it. Regardless if we've met and/or RPed with you prior, we ask that you complete the application like everyone else. Applications should be sent via PM to Scar.- who will then forward the information onto juliebarnes. You are more than welcome to PM with questions or concerns as well. I check my PMs frequently, and usually reply with 24 hours.

things to consider before sending in an application...

ImageBoth Scar.- and juliebarnes are playing three characters and each is diverse in gender and role. Take this into mind when considering your characters. We'd like to keep things fairly balanced, so please try to be diverse. Scar.- is saving a fourth flex character to fill in gaps once the writer's have been decided upon as well as their characters. But, this is something to consider. The more diverse, yet balanced you make your characters, the better chance you have of being selected.

This RP takes place in Geiranger, Norway involving characters that, for the most part, are descendants of Vikings and have grown up in the village. Because of this, characters should look Scandinavian. That being said, that does not me uniquely diverse characters may not be added as well. But, there must be a specific reason in said character's history that explains this. I am not against ethnically diverse FCs, but for this particular RP focused on a particular part of the world and nationality, FC decisions are important.

Loyalty is very important to us. Because this is meant to me a small group, private RP, we don't expect you to post quickly like other large group RPs. We understand life happens and we have other commitments. You can take your time when it comes to posting, but that also being said we aren't wanting to wait in limbo for months at a time. Above everything else, we appreciate and seek out only loyal RPers who will remain in contact and will not go MIA without a word. Both Scar.- & juliebarnes are on discord quite frequently and use that as a main source of communication. We will most likely make a discord for this particular RP so that we have an open flow of communication when the writers have been chosen.

That being said, if either of the writers that get accepted into this RP do disappear without a word, they will have a window of time before they are removed. Any decisions of removal will be made by both Scar.- & juliebarnes, but not without first giving a warning to said writer.

Communication is key with us. As long as you communicate we'll get along swimmingly :)

application...

Code: Select all
[img]http://placehold.it/500x20/ffffff/ffffff[/img]

[left][img]http://placehold.it/80x800/ffffff/ffffff[/img][/left][right][img]http://placehold.it/80x800/ffffff/ffffff[/img][/right][right][font=times][size=140][i][b][color=#c86ed5]W R I T E R[/color] [color=transparent]x[/color] [color=#c86ed5]A P P L I C A T I O N[/color][/b][/i][/size][/font][/right]
[img]http://placehold.it/375x5/e3e3e3/e3e3e3[/img]

[justify][font=times][size=120][color=#c86ed5][b]q u e s t i o n s :[/b][/color][/size]

[left][img]http://placehold.it/20x250/ffffff/ffffff[/img][/left][b]1 ) [color=transparent]xx[/color]how frequently are you online?[/b]
[left][color=transparent]1 ).[/color][/left]answer goes here

[b]2 ) [color=transparent]xx[/color]on average how long are your posts?[/b]
[left][color=transparent]2 ).[/color][/left]answer goes here

[b]3 ) [color=transparent]xx[/color]have you ever ghosted or disappeared from an RP
[color=transparent]3 ) xx[/color]or RPG without giving prior word?[/b]
[left][color=transparent]3 ).[/color][/left]answer goes here

[b]4 ) [color=transparent]xx[/color]have you read all the content for this RP?[/b]
[left][color=transparent]4 ).[/color][/left]answer goes here[/font][/justify]


[left][img]http://placehold.it/120x150[/img][/left][left][img]http://placehold.it/13x150/e3e3e3/e3e3e3[/img][/left][left][img]http://placehold.it/1x150/ffffff/ffffff[/img][/left]
[font=times][size=120][color=#c86ed5][b]c h a r a c t e r[/b][/color] [color=transparent]x[/color] [color=#c86ed5][b]n a m e[/b][/color][/size][/font]


[left][font=times][b]role :
gender :
fc :[/b][/font][/left][left][font=times]vætter, völva, etc.
male, female, etc.
faceclaim[/font][/left]
[img]http://placehold.it/375x1/ffffff/ffffff[/img]

[justify][font=times][b]brief description :[/b]
A paragraph is fine, if you would like to write more you are welcome. Please give us a brief idea of this character. Who are they? What are they like? What makes them unique? What do they have to bring to the table in this RP? Also, feel free to duplicate this portion of the application for the number of characters you are requesting to play. Thank you.

( Also, feel free to adjust the coding of the application as necessary, use your own coding or whatever else. I can't help myself but make things pretty with coding lol )[/font][/justify]



x x x x x x x x x x x

Private RP between Scar.- & juliebarnes & FaddedFox & SpiritDancer

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Character Portrait: Lofn Byström
Lofn Byström played by Scar.-
Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov
Rolf Nordskov played by Scar.-
Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun WIP
Character Portrait: Tove Blakely
Tove Blakely played by Scar.-
Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild WIP

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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Gustav Landvik Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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lofn byström
vættrx|xoutfitx|x#E69C7A

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It was a day like any other day in Vægher. Night and day were no different, everything there was dark like a grey haze covered the world. Time worked differently, sometimes a year would pass by in a blink while other times it seemed as though everything was passed in slow. A fog always seemed to hover above the ground coming up to mid torso, covering Vægher in a dark cloud. Most of the Vætter that lived there allowed themselves to wither away. Their spirits becoming figures in the mist, unmoving and unchanging like transparent statues. Some even wondered past the borders of Geiranger, never to be seen again. Some believe they are the poltergeist that plague Vægher while others think they just disappear into nothingness. There was a sort of peace in that... Nothingness.

Lofn wasn't like that. Her light and optimism wasn't necessarily contagious, but magnetic. She was without a doubt one of the eldest Vætter, most having opted for nothingness or complacency rather than living... If you can call it that. Often times some of the Vætter flocked to her looking to her for reassurance and hope. She never minded helping them or being a shoulder for any of them. But she also needed the silence. It was only a handful of spirits that Lofn told of her quiet place. It was on the edge of the fjord, more of a swamp inside Vægher. It was more mud than water, that bubbled and probably would smell if she could smell. But there was a cliff that over looked it all... And from that high up she could almost imagine that she was back in Geiranger. That a stormed had rolled in, covering the valley in fog and darkness.

A couple walked slowly up towards the cliff, hand in hand. Leo and Karin Henning had hung around in Vægher long enough to know the place well, and with little else to do besides wait for their son to contact them, they'd taken to spending their time by walking all around Vægher, testing its boundaries. This day they were up on the cliff again, staring out over where the sea would be in Geiranger. The fog covered everything as always, blocking out the view they missed so dearly.

Leo caught sight of Lofn ducking into her quiet place, and he tugged on Karin's hand, pointing wordlessly at the spot where one could enter Lofn's secret place from, if they knew where to look. Glad to see a friendly face, Karin nodded, and together they headed towards the rock.

The wind began to blow, rustling the branches of the dead trees. Lofn closed her eyes feeling it move through her hair and rustle her dress. She could almost forget she was in Vægher and imagine herself on the side of the fjord in Geiranger, watching as the fishermen came and left the ports. It was funny how some memories could be so fresh like they happened yesterday... Yet the image of Freja's face seemed to fade more and more as the days chipped onward. She moved closer to the edge and leaned down, picking up a rock. Then Lofn threw it as far as she could, wishing she'd hear it skip in the water below but instead it disappeared in the muck of the swamp. As she looked around at the world below, she noticed a couple walking hand in hand, heading toward the path that lead up to the cliff.

Lofn smiled slightly, as she made her way to the path, deciding the steep and narrow hill. Her hands held onto leafless dead trees and her skirt stepping in each divet by memory. Halfway down, she reached the couple. Lofn offered them her hands and helped them ascend the tricky hill to the top of the cliff. She lead them over to a small opening with a few rocks that were well suited as chairs. She took a seat and offered the couple to sit with her. With a smile, she greeted them. "How are you both doing?"

"We're fine as usual, Lofn dear," Karin assured her with a smile, any resentment at her situation long burned away. It was how it was, and she and Leo just had to put up with it. "Just waiting for Felix," Leo added, his arm around Karin's shoulders. He had taken to Vægher less easily.

Karin gazed at Lofn fondly. It was still hard for her to believe, sometimes, that she was one of the oldest Vætter around. She still looked so young, like any of the children that she and Leo used to treat when they were alive. There were younger ones in Vægher, sure, but few of them were as gentle and loving as Lofn, and it broke her heart.

Lofn smiled warmly, extending her hand out to take Karin's in a kind and reassuring manner. "I'm glad you are well." She was glad the couple seemed to hold strong to their kindness that they had before they came to Vægher. Not everyone was so kind. She understood their worry for their son, Lofn witnessed the same concern consume her sister. "I understand it's hard, not being able to see him when you wish. I know you're worried for him with the veiði-maðr..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell. She allowed her thumb to gently stroke Karin's hand in comfort. "Would you like me to go visit him? See how he is doing?"

She never usually offered to do such things, because once one Vætter knew she could communicate with the living... They'd all know and Lofn would always be keeping tasks on everyone's loved ones. She wished she was capable of that, but she was only one person. But Karin and Leo weren't like the others, they respected Lofn's privacy and space. They never told anyone where to find her, nor put unneeded burden on her. It's been several months since the first time Lofn began keeping an eye on Felix... They never asked and she didn't mind offering. "If it would put your mind at ease, I do not mind going to see him."

Karin's breath hitched. After everything he'd been through, she couldn't fault Felix for withdrawing the way he had, but without a supportive network - the same network she and Leo had lacked, incidentally, that probably contributed to their death - it hurt her to see him so lonely and angry. "If you could just take a look at him every now and then, love, just to see how he's doing when he isn't talking to us... that would be great. Just make sure he's not getting into any trouble, you know?" Leo nodded, adding, "Only if you want to. We know the living world is exhausting, we just want to know he's safe." He paused, unsure how to proceed. There was hardly any way for him to repay her kindness. "Thank you for asking, Lofn. It really means a lot to us. There's so much we can't do here... We're so helpless, and Felix is so alone."

"It really is no problem, I assure you," Lofn replied to the worried couple. It wasn't much, but anything she could do to keep some of the vætter at peace was payment enough. It was a hard life, if you could call it that, in the Vægher. But it wasn't any better for the völva still left to live their lives in fear of the hunters, only to be locked here with the rest of them upon their death. She didn't know what help she could be to Felix, but stopping by every so often to make sure he is ok was the least she could do.

After exchanging a bit more with Karin and Leo, Lofn moved to her feet and bid the couple farewell. "Feel free to stay here. It's on of the few places not overwhelmed with Vætter. I'll come find you later after checking in on your son." She gave them both a reassuring hug, then descended down the path. Lofn had been a Vætter so long that the only thing that seemed to keep her from insanity was learning who all lived in Geiranger. Not that it was that difficult with such a small village, but it was just about the only thing she could do. So, she already knew where to find Felix, considering the völva rarely went anywhere other than his home on the outskirts of the town.

Being a medium in the Vægher was rare and a strange thing for Lofn to get used to. Not only was she surrounded by the other spirits, but the figures of the living wondered about like wisps. She could see their silhouettes like they were the ghosts. It could be quite overwhelming trying comprehend the dead and the living. Luckily, Felix lived farther out. He wasn't surrounded by a residual cloud of spirits that Lofn would have to sift through and there also was rarely other living people there as well. It'd be difficult to try and communicate with someone while surrounded by other Vætter... She'd have a queue of people wanting her to check on their families faster than she could say hello.

Lofn slowly made her way onto Felix's property being sure to take her time and walk out in the open. It had been such a long time since she was alive herself that she has forgotten what spirits look like to living mediums and she didn't want to startle or frighten him. She walked around the house until she found the young man in his garden. She only approached when she knew that she was in his line of sight, hopefully. Lofn lifted up the hem of her dress slightly as she squatted down and pointed at the plants. She couldn't make them out, only feintly seeing an outline. Objects never come through as strong as the living. "What are those?" she asked softly, trying not to startle him. A friendly smile crossed her lips as she looked toward him.




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rolf nordskov
veiði-maðrx|xvölvax|xoutfitx|x#8BA3A6

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Rolf stood, frozen like a statue in the middle of their small Geiranger home. The light was drained from the room like a storm cloud blocked out the sun. His feet were cemented to the ground and when he parted his lips to speak nothing happened. Everything was void of sound, moving in a slow haze. He watched as Anton's oppressive form stepped toward his mother. His Step Father felt taller and more intimidating, almost too big to fit in the room. He raised his hand, balling his fist and struck Rolf's mother. The room began to spin as she fell to the ground and Rolf's vision faded to black.

When his eyes opened, the room was painted in a rorschach of red. The color faded from everything leaving the world a stark black and white with the glaring crimson daunting him. His fists clenched as they tried to stop the trembling that slowly worked its way up his arms. The high pitch screech of white noise blared in his ears as his mother ran to him. Her hands grasped his shoulders, trying to shake the shock and fear out of him. Rolf didn't move, the air knocked from his chest as he stared blankely at her face. She was shouting inaudibly, not out of anger but fear as tears filled her eyes. When they began to roll down her cheeks it trailed the blood along with it like a river along her porcelain skin.

He didn't notice when his mother walked away nor when she returned with a damp cloth. She quickly began to wipe the blood from his hands. As she worked, Rolf's head slowly rolled to the side and his gaze fixed on the spot on the floor. There was no sign of Anton. It was like a human grenade detonated at the epicenter of the room. There, in the center, was where the largest pieces were, most no bigger than a strawberry along with a single unharmed eyeball. Rolf could feel his heart quicken in his chest, causing him to start gasping for air while his gaze darted about the room. Everything was red and it flooded his vision, causing his stomach to tighten and knot. Then his eyes rolled back in his head as Rolf fell backwards, stiff like a board. It seemed as though a lifetime passed as he fell.

His unconscious body slammed onto the ground, shaking his entire frame, which startled him awake. Rolf sat up abruptly in his bed, his shirtless torso covered in a cold sweat as his chest heaved from his heavy breaths. He raised his hands to rub his face, before brushing his damp locks back from his face. He hadn't been able to get a single night's sleep since the incident. It plagued his mind constantly. Not because he murdered or killed... That was nothing new to him, being a veiði-maðr killing was part of the job. The frightening part was the truth. The hidden truth that had been stirring within him his entire life.

Rolf threw his blankets off of him before standing up and heading to the door. Halfway across his room, he stopped mid-step when he finally glanced up. His room was already a mess and half destroyed, only getting worse with each nightmare. When he felt a cool breeze on his back, he looked toward the window seeing the broken glass on the ground beneath it. He sighed, turning his back to the window and went to exit his room. As he grabbed the doorknob, his bedroom door fell from the hinges, toppling forward out into the hallway with a loud slam.

Before he could pick it up and try to make up an excuse, his mother was there and out of breath. "Rolf!?" She sighed out of relief seeing that he was fine. For a long quiet moment, she stood there taking in the sight of the door on the ground, her disheveled son and his expression. "Did you have another nightmare?" she asked as she stepped toward him, extending her hand to try and brush back his long hair.

Rolf turned his head away from her reach. He bent over and picked up the door, then leaned it against the wall in the hall. "Just underestimated my own strength," he lied, not making eye contact.

"Rolf..." she said quietly, taking hold of his arm before he could walk away. "Ignoring this won't make it go away. You need help controlling this... Nearly half of the windows and mirrors shattered. Sooner or later our lies will become transparent."

He glanced back over his shoulder at his mother. Rolf's eyes were clouded in darkness from the weight of the truth and his lack of sleep. "And who would help me? The völva would rather kill me on sight than help me. And if I did find one that would help... Gustav wouldn't be far behind with a cruel death for the both of us." His gaze fell to the ground, as he slipped his arm from his mother's grasp. "I'm a dead man either way. If you were smart you'd leave Geiranger before I get you killed too," he concluded as he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Rolf spent nearly an hour standing under the steaming hot shower trying to melt away the stress. All the while as he showered, groomed his facial hair and dressed he couldn't fight the overwhelming thoughts and memories that consumed him. He didn't miss Anton, if anything he was happy to see the man dead. But Rolf was not a liar. He was always an honest and loyal man... Everything he grew up believing had been turned on its head as he tried to get a grasp on his new reality. He felt like a zombie, moving through the motions but void of emotions, thoughts or feelings. He was a dead man and the longer he kept up the ruse, the more painful his death would be.

His hands trembled uncontrollably as he buttoned up his dress shirt and tucked it into his pants. He tried to steady his breathing as he put the tie around his neck. When he looked up to watch his reflection as he tried to tie it, he sighed out of frustration seeing the mirror was shattered. Rolf closed his eyes as his hands grasped the edges of the porcelain sink, trying to calm himself down as he felt the emotions and powers stirring inside him.

"Rolf?" His mother's soft voice spoke sheepishly as she cracked the bathroom door and peaked her head inside.

With his attention sidetracked, Rolf's little bit of control quickly dissipated. The magic surged out from his hands like a wave and the porcelain sink cracked beneath his hands. His eyes widened as he withdrew his hands, staring down at his empty palms with fear in his eyes.

His mother was there in a blink, taking his hands in hers. "Hey? Hey?" she said calmly.

Rolf tried to pull his hands from her grasp, but she held tight to them. Tears filled his eyes as the true and utter fear overwhelmed him. "No, mamma. I don't want to hurt you."

She raised her right hand to gently cup Rolf's cheek and wipe away a tear. Her smile was warm and comforting... and stubborn. As she took the ends of his necktie and began to tie it for him, she spoke quietly but honestly. "You'd never hurt me. I know that in my heart... And I will not leave you, no matter how much you push me away." Her hands tightened the tie and then smoothed it down against his shirt. "I won't let you carry this burden alone, my love."

"I can't do this..."

His mother wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. "You don't have to pretend to be sad... And you don't have to say anything. I will protect you." She lightly kissed him on the cheek. "I promise."

Luckily for Rolf, he didn't have to pretend to feel something he didn't for the late Anton. He looked miserable. It was evident all over his face that he hadn't slept in days and even in conversation he looked like he was miles away. Rolf was a ghost... A shell, that nodded his head and smiled when it was expected of him. Others would see it as grieving and even though that wasn't the truth, it was believable. Lying was always easier when some amount of the emotions behind it were true. They might be for a different reason but it all manifests in the same way.

When Rolf and his mother arrived at the funeral home, it was still empty aside from the mortician. While his mother went over to double check the plans for the funeral, Rolf beelined for the coffin that sat on the alter at the far end of the room. One half of it was propped open, but there was no corpse because... there was nothing left to bury. Instead, a picture of Anton was propped up inside. He could barely look at the portrait, feeling as though the eyess were staring back at him like he was waiting to tell all of Rolf's secrets. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt his mother's gentle hand on his shoulder. "He doesn't deserve a coffin... or a memorial," he whispered while staring at the picture.

"Hush now," his mother scolded under her breath before turning him to face her. Her hands adjusted his suit and attempted to smooth some of the wrinkles as she spoke. "Be careful what you say outside of the house, even around me. Just shake their hands and thank them for their condolences... It'll be over soon."

Rolf nodded his head and moved to stand beside his mother on the alter next to the coffin. He cupped his hands before him, while she hooked her hand in the bend of his arm as they waited for the veiði-maðr to arrive.




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tove blakely
völvax|xoutfitx|x#9D89A8

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Tove had been at the family's shop since the early morning like she did on most days. She took it upon herself to try and run it while Leif went off and did whatever he did most days. Depending on the day of the week, the shop was usually pretty slow... Unless there were tourists in town who always seemed to think it was an occult store. You know, all for show. They could think whatever they wanted. Tove didn't care if they accidentally cursed themselves. It wasn't her problem once she had their money. After all, there was a very strict no return policy. So, if the stupid Americans want to buy a book of spells and fuck around with ouija boards, then by all means. Maybe they would take some veiði-maðr along with them.

Most days a hunter would wonder into the shop "incognito" posing as a tourist, as if she didn't know any better. They never fouled her, but Tove played the game. She was good at that. After all everyone whispered that she was a witch, and that was intentional. It's the secretive people who arouse suspicion with the hunters. But people like herself who scream witch... Usually are seen as purveyors of the occult. She wasn't scared of them. And if one of the hunters that "sneakily" found their way into her shop tried some funny business with her? Well, Tove had more than a few hex bags ready for them to place a nice curse on the idiot. So, she wasn't worried.

It had been an exceedingly quiet day in Geiranger that particular day, and she knew why. It was the hunter's funeral. It seemed as though the entire village was holding their breath. Not a week back a völva snuck into a house of a veiði-maðr and decimated the man. Not that he didn't deserve it. But, it was unheard of... A witch being the hunter, seeking out the prey and killing them where they slept. Tove was cold but not that cold. She had no idea which völva had done the deed, and asking around wouldn't find any answer either. Part of her, when she heard the news, thought it might have been Leif. She asked him about it and he denied it. And one thing Leif would never do to her is lie. But the prospect of who it really was plagued her mind for quite some time.

Since the shop was empty, Tove took the time to do her own research. She walked around the shop grabbing book after book until she had a stack in her arms that nearly reached her chin. After setting them down on the table at the center of the shop, she then gather candles, herbs and other ingredients that she might need. She then sat herself down and began to go through the books page by page, searching for a way to uncover the mystery völva. Tove had always been well versed in spells and enchantments, but a location spell or something of revelation isn't in her tool belt. As far as Geiranger went, there never really was much of a need to try and divulge the identity of someone. With such a small village, whispers spread quickly and through those whispers a culprit could be found quickly. A week with no answer is unusual in a village like this.

After Tove finished skimming through the first book, she paused. Although it was highly unlikely a hunter would come waltzing into her shop on the day of a funeral, she still felt the need to be prepared. After all, she was sitting out in the open with enough evidence to prove her guilty. Yes, it was an occult store. But selling it was one thing, sitting down and practicing it was death worthy. She had noticed that whenever a hunter died, it seemed that for an entire day the veiði-maðr shut down. They didn't seem the type to spend much time on mourning, instead taking an entire day to grieve, celebrate the hunter's life and move on. Tove would bet that grief was a weakness in their eyes and weakness was not. So, better to allow for a single day to get it out instead of removing half of their numbers due to bottling their emotions.

Whatever it was... Tove didn't understand those uptight fuckers. She'd like to see one of them stumble in here on their 'day of grieving.' With a mortar and pestle she grinded some particular ingredients together, preparing a simple but effective concoction. It took her a couple years to prefect it, but at a young age she loved using it on Leif for a little prank every so often. The powdery substance was lavendar in color and shimmered in the light. If someone unwelcome came in, a handful blown in their face would knock them out for a solid hour at least. Now feeling a bit more prepared, Tove kicked off her boots and crossed her legs underneath her. She dug out her glasses and got to reading, determined to figure out who this völva was.




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gustav landvik
veiði-maðrx|xoutfitx|x#9B937E

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Gustav remained in bed when he woke up, reluctant to face the day. Instead he rolled over, draping his arm over Anneka. He gently pulled the blonde closer to him, nuzzling his face into the curve of the back of her neck. After another 5 minutes of lying there, he groaned and sat up. He brought his hands to his face rubbing the sleep and weariness from them. He gently reached over and brushed her blonde hair from her shoulder and leaned down to kiss the soft skin. "We need to get up. The funeral is today." He sighed, followed by a yawn as he pulled the covers off of him and swung his legs off the bed. Gustav waited there for a moment, rubbing his neck as he stretched.

It had been such a long time since they're last funeral. At least three months, which is a long time for the veiði-maðr. No one ever liked funerals, after all who would. Burying someone you were close to is hard, but putting them to rest is necessary. The veiði-maðr are only allotted a 24 hour grieving period to clear their system of the pain and then move on. It was a weakness none of them could afford to hold onto. That meant a day of mourning, crying and condolences, then drinking and celebrating their life. This time was different. Anton was a pivotal member of the veiði-maðr and closest friend to Gustav's own father. Not only that, he was the father of their best and most skilled tracker, Rolf. Gustave worried how this would affect him. No one compared to his skill, and terminating veiði-maðr was never the best option at a sign of weakness. It only weakened their own ranks in the process.

After another yawn, Gustav pushed off his bent knees and stood up. He shuffled his way to the bathroom and into the shower. He didn't waste much time cleaning up in case Anneka needed it more than he did. Once finished, he walked around the apartment with a towel around his waist, going to start up a pot of coffee. As it brewed, Gustav leaned back against the counter running through the facts about Anton's murder. He was itching to get out there in Geiranger and hunt down the piece of shit völva that killed one of their own. For centuries they stayed in hiding, avoiding being caught by the veiði-maðr. But now, one of them has grown a pair. They sought out Anton and his family, and turned him into wall paint. Rolf and Eva were lucky not to be causalities in the attack. If they were also home, then who knows the level of destruction the witch could have caused with more people present

Gustav groaned, trying not to dwell on it as he made two cups of coffee. He then walked his way back to the bedroom and sat down beside Anneka. "Here you go." He handed her one of the cups of coffee that he made the way she likes it. After drinking most of his own cup, he got up and proceeded to get dressed. Once he was ready, he left the bedroom to give Anneka plenty of room to get ready and took a seat out in the living room. Sprawled out along the coffee table was dozens of pictures of the incident. He sighed, leaning back in the couch as he flipped through the images for hundredth time trying to see what he might have missed. But nothing. The person was thorough... And the only thing that was for certain was that the killer was a völva.

Once Anneka was ready, he followed her out of the apartment. Gustav then offered her his arm as they walked to the funeral home. Of course, the two of them were the first to arrive aside from Eva and Rolf. After all, it was Gustav's duty to be there first and also be the last to leave. He was the leader, he had to be respectful and supportive to prove himself worthy of his title. He held the door open, allowing Anneka to go in first and followed behind her. Once inside, he made his way over to Eva, giving his best attempt at a compassionate smile. "I am so sorry for your loss Mrs. Nordskov. Anton was a great man and hunter. He will truly be missed." Gustav gently held her shoulders as he gave her a kiss upon the cheek. "If there is ever anything you need. Please do not hesitate to contact myself or Anneka."

Gustav then moved over to Rolf, offering him his right hand. Once they shook, he then brought the dark haired male for a one armed hug. "We will find out who did this. They will suffer more than any völva ever has before in Geiranger," he whispered only low enough for the other male to hear. "I promise you that." As he stepped back, he patted Rolf's arm and gave a sympathetic smile. "Stay strong."

"Thanks man," was all that Rolf could say, attempting his more sincere and thankful smile.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Tove Blakely
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L I V I A x L A N D O N

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r o l e x // x veiði-maðr
h e x x // x #302b54
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When Livia woke that morning, she lay staring at the ceiling for a minute as she recollected her bearings. As much as she travelled, it still felt weird to wake up to a different room every now and then. At least this was much better than the American motels she normally stayed in. Footsteps sounded downstairs, no doubt the family that owned the bed and breakfast going about their day. There hadn't been any other guests when she moved in yesterday, she reflected, so less people to keep off her back.

Crap, it's the funeral today. And the room was so cosy too, she hated to leave it. But duty called, and with a low groan she rolled over, getting out of bed.

Twenty minutes later, Livia sat nursing a cup of coffee at the dining table, listening to the chaos that was the Lindström family in the morning. People would rush into the dining room, half-dressed and with uncombed hair, grab a piece of toast, and tear out again, only to leave their breakfast on top of a cupboard and forget about it while they went hunting for bags or shoes. This cycle would repeat itself until a woman strode in and chased everyone save for Livia out of the dining room, flapping her hands at them.

"Sorry about my family," she smiled at Livia. She searched her memory - this one would probably be Marie, the owner of the bed and breakfast. "More coffee?" Judging by her amused smile, Livia wasn't sure that she was really sorry, but it didn't really matter.

"Yes, please. And it's no concern, it's refreshing to see such a large family living together. I haven't been in such a lively house in years, ever since my sister moved out."

"Isn't that just how it is? I suppose I'll miss it when the children finally grow up and move out." Marie reached over, refilling Livia's coffee. Before she could respond, another girl, the youngest Livia had seen so far, came into the dining room, ducking Marie's outstretched arm to grab a roll and some cheese from the table. "American? You're completely out of season," she informed Livia, giggling as Marie started around the table, the coffee pot held out like a weapon. "All right, I'm going!" And she was gone, out of the kitchen again.

"Forgive my niece." Marie definitely wasn't apologetic now, her affection for the girl clear as she watched her scramble out of the room, almost tripping over herself before ducking into another room, out of Livia's line of sight. "She's very straightforward, kids her age, you know." Marie scrutinised Livia's outfit, then changed the subject. "What are your plans for the day?"

Livia tried to keep her voice casual. "I'm just visiting some family friends. Checking out the area." Marie nodded, got to her feet. "Family friends in little Geiranger, that's lovely. I'll leave you to it then. Just pop your head into my sister's cafe next door and holler if you need anything." She stood, gliding out of the dining room. Somewhere in the house a door slammed, then all was quiet.

Livia finished her breakfast as quickly as she could, then double checked her equipment - she wasn't expecting anything, but in foreign land one could never be too certain, and the weight of the collapsible crossbow tucked right into the very bottom of her purse was reassuring. Pulling her coat on, she left the house, headed for the funeral home.

By the time she got there, the funeral was already filled with family and friends of the deceased. She stood quietly by the back of the room, just observing. She spotted the wife and son, standing by the front, and waited until the end of the service when people began moving out of the room to approach them.

"Rolf and Eva, I presume? Hello. I'm Livia Landon - Anton was a friend of my father's. My condolences on his passing." She shook their hands in turn. "I just landed in Norway yesterday, my father sent me on his behalf. He and Anton were in the... hunting business together, you know, and on account of their friendship my father is anxious I should be involved in the search for the one responsible." She didn't like talking in euphemisms, but she had to be mindful of people who weren't aware of the entire situation listening in. "I am entirely at your disposal until this matter is settled. Again, I'm so sorry that we should meet under these circumstances."





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L U C I A x D A G N Y x H A L L

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r o l e x // x völva
h e x x // x #a2627a
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"Ceecee. You're drooling into your work. Ceecee!" A figure loomed over Lucia, hands reaching for her face. She sat up with a small scream, drawing back instantly.

"Burning the midnight oil again?" It was only Lise, her eyebrows raised in disapproval, reaching forward to close the laptop as Lucia moved back from the desk. Another hand reached over her shoulder to tug a sheet of paper away from where it had been sticking to her face. "Hoping to absorb her lecture notes by osmosis, more like," said Mats from somewhere over her head. "You're young and energetic, squirt, but you need to sleep on time." He ruffled her hair and returned the paper to Lucia's desk, turning away. "Lise, if you don't hurry up we're leaving without you."

"You're..." Lucia's mouth was dry, and her voice caught. She scrubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand, tried again. "You're all going out together?" The accusation was clear in her scowl - without me? While Lise explained, she combed her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the mess. Copper strands floated to the floor, tugged free, and she snatched her hands back immediately. Anja would complain about the amount of hair that Lucia shed for her to sweep up, as if coming from a family where thick red hair was abundant didn't make that a common sight.

"I'm walking the boys to work, then going down to the pier with my friends. Don't get into any trouble while we're gone," was Lise's lofty reply as she breezed out of the room. "And watch where you go, there's a hunter's funeral going on today." The hardness in Lise's voice was unmistakable, but Lucia had no chance to ask further questions, as her cousins were already bounding downstairs.

Lucia got out of the chair she'd fallen asleep in, her spine creaking terribly, and stood in the centre of her room, turning in a circle as she tried to recollect her schedule. Having memorised her notes last night meant that she could take it easy today, maybe study in her mother's cafe before class in the late afternoon. It would be a good day, a relaxed day, and maybe she could brew up a feel-good potion just to spit in the face of the dead hunter.

After getting dressed, she grabbed a stack of notebooks and her laptop and headed downstairs, but a strange voice coming from the kitchen stopped her dead on the stairs. "...ever since my sister moved out." No doubt one of Marie's bed and breakfast guests, but at this time of year? And American no less, judging by her accent. She crept down the stairs, catching sight of the stranger. The dark-haired woman looked friendly enough, like someone that Lucia would love to get to know, except that Marie already seemed at the end of her tether and questioning her guest in front of her would probably not earn Lucia any brownie points. Breakfast was probably a greater priority than the guest at this point. She darted downstairs and into the kitchen, reaching for the bread.

Barely escaping Marie's reach, Lucia darted in her mother's cafe next door, settling at a table while Helena started the coffee machine and slid pastries into the display case. There seemed to be changes everywhere today. A hunter's funeral taking place? An American sitting in their kitchen, completely out of season? It wasn't cause to be frightened, but it was still weird to consider. As she chewed on her stolen breakfast, she opened her laptop again, letting the system boot up.

"Jenta mi," Helena called over the counter. She beckoned Lucia over, waving a piece of paper at her. "Are you busy, can you run down to the shop to get me some things? I'll look after your things, have some tea waiting for you when you get back."

"O-kay," Lucia groaned, shutting the laptop again. "Give that here." She took the list from Helena, stuffing it into the front pocket of her jeans, then skipped out the door.

It was a short enough distance, and the weather was pretty good, so she opted to walk to the shop. The interior was dimly lit, and as always Lucia peered through the door to check if it was open. Spotting Tove sitting inside, she knocked smartly on the door, and pushed through after getting the dark-haired girl's attention. "He-ey," she sang once she was inside. "All cooped up as usual, my beautiful blackbird? It's a lovely day outsi - ooh, what are you reading?" She moved to look over Tove's shoulder at the book, her curiosity piqued.





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F E L I X x H E N N I N G

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r o l e x // x völva
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The day dawned bright and early to find Felix hunched in front of his computer, having been up for hours researching new plants. With the weather, he hoped to expand his garden - maybe flowers to brighten it up, or strawberries that he could use for recipes...

He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the sun had risen until the light shone through his window at just the right angle to hit his eyes. Scrunching his face up, he pushed his chair back and checked the clock. Damn, I was up the whole night again. He rubbed his eyes, then got up and got ready to start the day.

For Felix, this began with yet another attempt to perfect a recipe for cinnamon waffles. In half an hour, he measured, whisked, and mixed, then all activity abruptly came to a halt as he started his waffle maker and hovered over it, waiting for the mix to cook. When he finally popped it open, the kitchen filled with the bright and sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon, and Felix took the opportunity to snap a few photos for his blog's progress.

They weren't by any means the best waffles he'd ever made, but he grudgingly admitted that these were much better than his previous attempt. Sitting in his kitchen staring out the window at the space around his house, Felix noted that even for the outskirts of Geiranger it was oddly quiet. Too quiet. Probably a big event was going on in the village - he hoped nothing serious? Something that was none of his business, at any rate. He was well aware of his status as the self-imposed outcast of Geiranger, and he intended to keep it that way.

After breakfast was a careful cleaning of the kitchen, wiping down the various countertops and making sure everything was washed and put away. Felix supposed that he should have tried to be more economical with his space, but living alone had earned him the tendency to sprawl his work out over various surfaces, which of course made cleaning harder. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he remembered how his grandmother used to berate him for dirtying her pretty kitchen. He still missed her sometimes.

Shaking that thought out of his mind, Felix finished the cleanup, and went out to his garden to check on the plants. To his dismay, something had chewed through his vegetables, leaving gigantic holes in the leaves. Sighing, he searched through the pots until he found the culprits - a handful of slugs, hidden at the base of a spinach plant. Cursing under his breath, he was so preoccupied with trying to remove them that he barely noticed the girl in front of him until she extended a finger towards the plants. "What are those?"

Felix raised his head to look at her. She cut a pale figure, her outline shimmering, and though her face wasn't easy to place her hair definitely helped him along - Lofn. He remembered speaking to her a few times when he used his spirit magic to cross over into Vægher, and her presence was... less unwelcome than others'. "Spinach," he responded, pointing at the holes. "I was going to try making spinach flour, maybe cut some noodles from them, but the slugs got to them before I could."

He shifted his weight backwards, still squatting on the ground, and tilted his head at her. "What are you doing here, Lofn?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Gustav Landvik Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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Anneka Svanhild
veidi madr| #9A32CD| outfit
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Raging fire, greedily lapping at everything Anneka held dear. Consuming, razing, contorting. She could hear the screams of her family as they burned in the hell she'd unleashed with her own hands. Then the cackling laughter as her sister dropped to the ground, blood seeping and staining the grass she'd used to play in. Her lips bubbled as she tried to say something, hand reaching for Anneka. Then, that form, shadowed by the flames. 'Don't forget me, little Anneka,' the words echoed. Then he was gone, leaving Anneka alone in a world of fire and screams.

Anneka gasped, her body tensing when Gustav called her to wake, his kiss feeling like a searing blade in the moment. She swallowed hard and glanced back at him as he moved away to get ready for the day, then at the clock beside her. She swallowed dryly and slowly sat up, a hand running through her tangled locks. She reached her free hand up to her chest trying to calm the fluttering. She shook her head and watched her lover move about the room before vanishing into the shower before she got up and went to the file that contained the details of the gruesome death of Rolf's father. The scene held in the pictures must have jogged her own memory. She hadn't had that dream in ages. But her experience and now Rolf's pointed to one thing.

These volva were getting more aggressive.

What was fueling them? Usually the volva tried to hide and stay unnoticed but lately they were going on the offensive. Was one volva leading others? Were these just random flukes? What gave this new generation of volva the balls they needed to attack not just one veidi madr, but the home of a veidi madr? And did this incident involve only one volva as had been the case of her family's murder? Why couldn't they find an inkling of a clue as to who the volva was? There had been no trace. They needed to do something about this. But not today. Today was for grieving, not working. She needed to be there for Rolf and his mother. She understood the pain of losing loved ones and nothing really lessened the pain, but being a shoulder of support was the least she could do.

She set the folder down when Gustav emerged from the bathroom and quickly went about getting herself ready for the day. She thanked Gustav for the coffee and drank it quickly so they could get going. They needed to be there before the others began piling in. Once in the funeral reception area, her heart squeezed in empathy for the little family beside the casket. She let Gustav give his condolences first before she approached Mrs. Nordskov with a bouquet of flowers she'd brought along. She offered her a hug as well.

"You have my greatest condolences, Mrs. Nordskov. I am so sorry for your loss. I know no words can really make it better, but I want you to know we are here for you in this hard time." She sighed and turned to Rolf then and sighed softly. Just as Gustav had done, she reached out to give him a hand shake which turned into a brotherly bump of their shoulders and a brief hug. "Rolf, I am so sorry about your loss. As I said to your mother, if you need anything, you let me know. I'll be there to help you in any way I can. Even if it is just to talk a little." She wasn't the most qualified of the group to talk feelings, but for a situation like this and for Rolf, she would do her best to be a listening ear.

With that said, she left a second set of flowers next to the casket and moved away, hanging at the edges of the funeral party to observe. She didn't want to interfere, and she was a natural watcher. It came with the territory of being a sniper. She was used to watching people, marking them. Towards the end of the service, her eyes fell on a young woman she was not familiar with. Her eyes narrowed. Who was she? He looked her up and down and tensed. Strangers were dangers after all. Could this be a volva intent on devastating the veidi madr ranks right here? She watched her approach Rolf and his mother and leaned closer to Gustav. "That girl talking to Rolf and his mother, do you know who she is?" she asked.





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Ivar Torrun
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Ivar, like always, found his way to the church in his wanderings in Vaegher. It looked nothing like the glorious church of his memory. The great cathedral had changed over time so that even in the world of the living it had changed, but in the dark fog of Vaegher, it felt empty. It was a skeleton of its beauty. Ivar couldn't see the great paintings that adorned the walls. It felt like an abandoned graveyard rather than a place that housed the Holy Spirit, but it was the closest thing to the church and to God that Ivar had to seek out in the dark and dismal space. He'd spent so much time at the church towards the end of his life and now in this strange after life that every structure and crack was familiar to him and he could walk it blind.

It had been a long while since Leif had released him to return to Vaegher for a bit and oddly, he was happy to be back here. It was dark, misty, and raining, but being here meant he wasn't helping Leif murder and plot. Part of him felt bad for Leif. He remembered when the volva had been younger and curious about everything. He so desperately wanted to help the vaettr that were trapped here. He'd been a good kid, but the course of his life had turned haunted. He had good intentions but his path had diverged from the light so long ago now. Evil was paved with good intentions, as the saying went. It did make Ivar wonder about his own actions when he'd been living. Had the end justified the means? Hadn't he done a similar thing that Leif was doing now? The line between right and wrong were murky and he hated that once again the clear path before him had turned to a jungle.

Ivar shook his head and pushed back the black cape he wore with the red cross as he took a knee in front of the church's altar. He bowed his head and folded his hands as he began to pray.

“Have mercy on me, O God,
according to Your unfailing love;
according to Your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.
Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
Against You, You only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in Your sight,
so that You are proved right when You speak
and justified when You judge.
Surely I have been a sinner from birth,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me…
Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean;
wash me and I will be whiter than snow…
Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Do not cast me from Your presence
or take Your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.
Then will I teach transgressors Your ways,
and sinners will turn back to You.

God, please forgive me for my continued transgressions against your will, as I know that as I am tied to Leif, he will have me continue down this sinner's path. And forgive him too. Help me help him see the error of what he is doing, that he is not saving anyone this way. Lend me your strength. Amen."


With his prayer said, he stood and took a seat and just stared at the empty space. Could the Heavenly Father even hear his prayers in this strange after world? Ivar sighed and closed his eyes, content on just being here. The quiet pitter-patter of the rain was calming and in a way rejuvenating. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, since time in Vaeghar often felt like seconds and days. There was no night or day so telling time was really impossible. At length, he picked himself up and wondered if Lofn was around. He wouldn't call the volva vaettr a friend per say, but they often had debated and interesting discussions and perhaps she'd give him some insight in how to approach Leif again. Unfortunately for him, Leif had other plans.

"Ivar Torrun, I call you back to me." The words seemed to echo in Ivar's mind and winced as the mark on his chest blazed with its own fire, brightening and making Vaeghar look even more bleak with its grey pallet. Ivar reached up to touch the burning sigil and tried to resist it but it only burned bright, forcing Ivar to his knees. In seconds, his form faded from Vaeghar until he appeared before his master, the color of the world brightening beneath him. And so the cycle began again. Ivar got to his feet and dusted off before he looked over at Leif.

"You called?" Ivar asked dryly.






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Leif Blakely
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Funeral day. What better time to work some magic, than a day to celebrate the dead? And not just any dead person, but a veidi madr. Leif couldn't think of a better way to honor the hunter than to use blood magic out in the open. These days didn't happen as often as they should and it usually meant the hunters wouldn't be prowling around looking for witches like himself. He'd been thrilled to find out that someone had killed the hunter, but he was a bit miffed that it hadn't been by his hand. He'd actually found out about the murder from his sister when she'd approached asking him if he'd done it. Whoever did it, needed to be praised and he wished he knew where to find the volva and embrace him. Or her. Whichever. Maybe he could ask them to join his budding 'order' to go up against the veidi madr. If the volva could just organize themselves under one banner and one leader like the veidi madr did, they'd be unstoppable. They'd have a force to finally rid the world of the veidi madr, but most vola he'd met were too scared to make any sort of move. Understandable to a point, but infuriating.

As always, his thoughts turned to Felix. He was one such volva who was too scared to actually do anything with his gifts. He was content to just live alone and die alone, only to be stuck in Vaegher regardless of the world's events. Well, fine. He'd show Felix that he would usher a new age, an age for the volva and finally break the curse that had settled on both the veidi madr and volva. All the spirits would finally be free of the gloom. Then maybe Felix would finally understand why he did all this, how much he was trying to save through his actions. Then Felix wouldn't have to be afraid.

"Focus, Leif, focus," he chided himself. He sighed and wiped his brow from the sweat that had gathered and sat back on his heels to look at his handy work. Before him was a large sigil, glowing red slightly and pulsing with its fresh application. The glow would fade momentarily as it entrenched itself into the dirt. He held a bowl of blood and there were several animals he'd drained to make the concoction that he now had to get rid of, but he was pleased. He'd gone about renewing the traps he'd laid out. Townspeople didn't often leave town and even fewer ventured far enough into the forest to reach the edge of the cliff that over looked the ocean, but on occasion he'd spotted veidi madr prowling about. Well, the next time one of those hunters walked here, they'd find a watery grave. He took out his special cloth and wiped up the blood on his hands and checked himself to ensure he didn't see any splotches of blood he'd missed. And this was why he always wore black. Black made blood hard to see, just in case he did miss something.

Leif cleaned out his bowl, being extra careful then to diffuse the magic that gathered in the blood and scrubbed it with the special sand his sister bought for him. He repeated the process with his ceremonial knife and tucked his tools away. He may like to play 'tag' and coast the line between saying he was a witch and acting upon it, but he wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to blatantly flaunt his utensils. Hunters weren't stupid and they would suspect something if they saw these tools on him. He put on gloves then and picked up the small dead animals and hurled them into the ocean. Even if the animals were found, he never touched them with his bare hands so the police or the hunters would never be able to find his DNA on them. With the clean up complete, he turned his attention elsewhere. Felix. Again. He really needed a new hobby, but he still worried about the volva. Felix was alone in the wilderness. He never saw him in town and so he had no way to know if the volva was still alive or sick or in need of help. Well, that's why he had Ivar, didn't he? Well, one of the minor purposes anyway.

The blood witch moved away from his trap to get some magical distance before he centered his mind and called the spirit to himself. It took just a touch longer than usual but soon, Ivar appeared kneeling in front of him. As always when he first summoned the spirits into the real world, Ivar looked like he existed in the land of the living. He wasn't transparent and anyone could touch Ivar though he'd be cold. The only thing that gave him away was the dead look in his eyes.

"You called?" Ivar answered him as he stood.

"Aw, you're cross with me. Were you praying again? You were, weren't you?"

"I was. Thankfully you didn't interrupt this time."

"I don't understand how you pray and keep your faith considering what you've seen and done. He won't save you. Regardless, were you mourning the veidi madr too?"

Leif was rewarded when Ivar's eyes widened and the dead crusader looked up at him. "A veidi madr died?"

"Yes. The funeral is today. Considering you were in Vaeghar, I am surprised you didn't know. Before you ask, no, it wasn't me. Regardless, I called you back because I want you to check on Felix."

Ivar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Why don't you check on him yourself? You should talk to him." Maybe the other peaceful volva could find a way to deter Leif from all this death.

"He refuses to speak with me, or have you forgotten the last time he rebuffed me? He knows you are tied to me but he seems less averse to your presence than to mine, though why, I have no idea. Save your energy though. You can appear as just a spirit there. He'll still be able to sense and communicate with you considering his abilities. Then report back to me."

Ivar gave a nod as he vanished and reappeared as a ghost on Felix's property. Perhaps he could convince Felix to talk to Leif. Something had to change if he was going to stop Leif. He knew that if he didn't, Leif was going to cause chaos and bring death to so many people and in the end, Leif too would perish. He did not think the blood witch would survive long before he went mad and used too much magic and shredded his soul beyond the ability to repent.

As a ghost, the life around Ivar was blurred and details lost to him. It was a fog, but he could find Felix easily enough. As he approached, he stopped beside the house a bit surprised to see another spirit there. Unlike the rest of the world, she, he could see clearly, since they currently resided on the same plain. Lofn. What was she doing here? Had Felix called her?

Leif on the other hand returned home once Ivar had vanished. "I am home," he sang as he walked into his family's shop. He was surprised to see Lucia beside his sister, though he shouldn't have been. Lucia was often around his sister to the point Leif almost fancied her a little sister. "Well hello little firecracker. What are the two of you up to?" he mused as he walked over to them and draped his arms around the two.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lofn Byström Character Portrait: Rolf Nordskov Character Portrait: Gustav Landvik Character Portrait: Livia Landon Character Portrait: Lucia Hall Character Portrait: Felix Henning Character Portrait: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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lofn byström
vættrx|xoutfitx|x#E69C7A

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Brown hair rustled upon Felix’s head as he slowly looked up to meet her gaze. Lofn gave a soft smile. He was far more pronounced than the rest of Geiranger that glimmered through. Everything about the real world seemed to fade away when she was only surrounded by other Vætter. But in the presence of the living it seemed to shine through at the right angles like the way a rainbow is only visible in certain places. Everything made feint outlines, a mist of the world populating the emptiness of her purgatory.

But Felix was clear as day. It was like the völva’s powers combined with her own, removing the static to bring forth a clear image. It was easy for Lofn to forget he wasn’t real. There have been more than a few occasions where she made the mistake of trying to touch him. It’d make her fingers tingle like goose bumps from a cool breeze, but her hand would still pass through him. She could remain positive most of the time but the sinking feeling the weighed down her stomach when what she thought was real reminded her of the truth. Lofn tried not to do that anymore… It was something small, but it hurt.

"Spinach,” he replied to her inquiry, pointing to something she couldn’t see. But none the less, Lofn smiled nodding her head. Spinach. She used to love that as a girl. But she couldn’t even try to remember the taste. A soft sigh escaped her lips at the thought, but she didn’t let the struggle show on her face as Felix continued to speak toward her. "I was going to try making spinach flour, maybe cut some noodles from them, but the slugs got to them before I could.”

Lofn tilted her head slightly. ”Ground beetles kill slugs… And toads,” she suggested. Those were the methods she remembered her mother using. Of course, who knew what ways could be used now. But at least with the living creatures it worked more in the natural order of life. Nothing foreign or inhumane.

Felix shifted his weight and tilted his head toward her, asking in his more usual cold manner, "What are you doing here, Lofn?”

Her hands fell to rest in her lap. The tone of her voice was still gentle, not off put by his brashness. ”There’s a new soul… Here, in the Vægher. A hunter,” her voice trailed off, giving a moment’s pause before continuing. ”He’s a brash soul, complaining about how he was killed by a völva. Things are different. More souls keep showing up, but this was the first veiði-maðr in awhile. Everyone is on edge… Including your parents.” Lofn raised a hand to brush back her locks but continued to hold his gaze. ”I offered to come check on you… to put them at ease,” she whispered softly.

Even just in Felix’s presence, she felt the need to remain hushed about the favors she does, the knowledge she knows and her ability to communicate freely with him. They never knew who could be listening… in Geiranger or Vægher. ”Do you have any idea what’s going on? Who killed the hunter?” Chances were he didn’t know, but Lofn still felt the need to ask.

After a long moment, she extended her hand toward him letting it hover just above his. ”You should be careful… Leave Geiranger before—“ she paused mid sentence when something told her they weren’t alone. Ever since her time in the Vægher the magical energy made everything different than in the real world. Lofn’s soul could almost feel the aura of another like a soft breeze or light smell. She couldn’t decipher who it was but she knew someone was there.

Lofn pushed her hands off her knees and stood up, glancing around for whomever joined them. ”We’re not alone,” she spoke only loud enough for Felix to hear her. Slowly she stepped forward in what felt like the right direction until she saw him, standing beside the house. ”Ivar?” she called out toward the Vætter, her tone curious as to what he was doing there. Did he follow her? It wasn’t like spirits just stumbled upon this place.




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rolf nordskov
veiði-maðrx|xvölvax|xoutfitx|x#8BA3A6

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Rolf had a hard time keeping a straight face while Gustav gave them his condolences and compassion, or as much compassion as the man could show. He never knew his leader to be much for sentiment or compassion. Gustav always seemed to have a one track mind when it came to hunting völva, and a death like Anton’s would only give someone like him more fire to burn under the other hunters. Rolf didn’t believe much of what he said, aside from the ’will suffer more than any völva ever has before in Geiranger.’ That he believed with every fiber in his being and it sent chills down his spine.

He was pulled from his own thoughts when Anneka stepped forward, handing his mother a bouquet of flowers and a caring hug. Unlike Gustav, Rolf believed every word she said. She was a woman of her word, honest and loyal. He never quite understood what she saw in Gustav, but that wasn’t his place. "You have my greatest condolences, Mrs. Nordskov. I am so sorry for your loss. I know no words can really make it better, but I want you to know we are here for you in this hard time.”

”Thank you, sweet girl,” Eva replied with a weak smile while brushing a strand of Anneka’s hair from her face.

The blonde then turned to Rolf, taking his hand in a shake which grew to a gentle shoulder bump and a brief hug. "Rolf, I am so sorry about your loss. As I said to your mother, if you need anything, you let me know. I'll be there to help you in any way I can. Even if it is just to talk a little.”

Rolf cleared his throat while nodding his head. All the while he tried desperately not to ring out his hands while his heart slammed against his ribcage, threatening to reveal his secret. ”Thank you,” was all he could manage to say in response before the couple left them to converse with the others at the funeral.

Toward the end of the ceremony, a brunette woman, not of Geiranger made her way toward Rolf and his mother. His eyes widened slightly as he glanced over at his mother briefly. He had no idea who this woman was… Was she another hunter? A völva come to attack them at their moment of weakness? Or worse, someone who knew his secret? He didn’t realize he was holding hid breath until his mother took his hand to gain his attention. He finally exhaled, looking to his mother who gave him a reassuring smile while her thumb stroked the back of his hand. As much as he appreciated her support and love… Each moment this secret weighed on him, he feared the consequences and their affect on her.

"Rolf and Eva, I presume? Hello. I'm Livia Landon - Anton was a friend of my father's. My condolences on his passing,” the stranger said while taking each of their hands in a friendly greeting. So, she wasn’t from Geiranger, or Norway for that matter. Her American accent made her stand out like sore thumb compared to the others. "I just landed in Norway yesterday, my father sent me on his behalf. He and Anton were in the... hunting business together, you know, and on account of their friendship my father is anxious I should be involved in the search for the one responsible.” And there it was. Another veiði-maðr in this small village. Rolf felt like he was suffocating in all of this… Hiding himself from those who knew him, that he knew like the back of his hand was easier than trying to play false to some stranger.

"I am entirely at your disposal until this matter is settled. Again, I'm so sorry that we should meet under these circumstances.”

Rolf was at a loss for words, but thankfully for him his mother stepped forward. ”Any friend of Anton’s is a friend of ours,” Eva smiled warmly, gently grasping the woman’s upper arms in a kind welcome. ”We appreciate you traveling here on his behalf and any help you offer.”

”Yes, thank you… Ms. Landon.” The harder part was over, but the day had yet begun. Although the ceremony was finished, the veiði-maðr always celebrated the life after morning the death. Rolf wanted to drink himself under the table to forget, but with this knowledge… this secret… He could never touch a drop again. He was too scared to let himself lose inhibitions… who knew what they would do.




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tove blakely
völvax|xoutfitx|x#9D89A8

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Tove had been at it for awhile. It was always obvious when she was getting deep into something, there was an intense look about her, usually staring at books like she was threatening to divulge all of its secrets. She had already resorted to twisting her long raven hair up into a messy bun of sorts to keep it out of her way the farther she explored into the numerous books and tomes. She had lost a couple pencils having stuck them in her hair and forgetting they were there moments later.

It didn’t take long for her to get lost in thought and research. Locator spells weren’t particularly difficult, but often involved blood of the person you were trying to find… So, relatives were useful. But, Tove didn’t have that. She had nothing to go off of aside from the culprit being a völva. At first she looked into locator spells, but they all called for something she didn’t have the means to possess. So, no good. Her next option? Well, it was the long and grueling one. She would have to toil over mountains and mountains of books until she could hopefully find the spell that was used to kill the hunter.

Tove adjusted herself on her seat, bringing her left foot to sit on the edge of the chair. She rested her left palm on her knee with her chin upon the top of her hand. Her grimoire laid to the right of the table with loose pages spread out everywhere, while several tomes were opened before her. She froze, looking toward the door of the shop when she heard a knock. Tove didn’t move her gaze from the door as she leaned forward, grabbing a handful of the dust she concocted earlier. "He-ey,” a voice sang from behind the door as it was opened.

A lively mess of red hair and freckles bounced into the shop with a contagious smile. Tove gave soft sigh, releasing the dust back into the mortar. She dusted off her hands as the young girl entered and came toward her. "All cooped up as usual, my beautiful blackbird? It's a lovely day outsi - ooh, what are you reading?” Lucia asked as she glanced over Tove’s shoulder at the strewn mess upon the table.

The raven haired woman chuckled softly as she reached out and grabbed another chair at the table. She pulled it up beside her and patted the seat for the girl to join her. ”Many… many books,” Tove sighed softly with a weak chuckle. ”I am trying to figure out who killed the veiði-maðr.” She tapped her pencil on the table as she pursed her lips. ”But since I have nothing to go on beside hear say… it’s proving to be quite difficult. You wouldn’t have happened to heard anything on your neck of the woods?” It was unlikely, but something could have been heard in her family’s inn. Anything was more to go off of than what Tove knew. The only information she could find was that there wasn’t enough of him to bury or even cremate. A human bomb covering the room in a bloody Rorschach. It sounded like something Leif would be capable of… But there was blood everywhere and he would use up every drop for his own uses.

"I am home,” Leif’s voice called out as he entered the shop. Tove only glanced up briefly before looking back down to the task at hand. "Well hello little firecracker. What are the two of you up to?” he asked as he moved over to the girls, resting his arms along their shoulders.

Tove’s brows furrowed at one of the books as she abruptly closed it and dropped it in a stack on the floor to her left. Then grabbed a new book from the stack at the other end of the table, opening it in the old one’s place. ”Trying to figure out who the killer völva is.” She glanced over her shoulder toward him for a moment. ”Have you heard anything new?”




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gustav landvik
veiði-maðrx|xoutfitx|x#9B937E

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Gustav and Anneka moved away from the morning family, leaving them to deal with the others that came to pay their respects. All the while as they moved around the hall, he let the blonde beside him have his arm. When they found a place to stand and observe off to the side, he lightly patted her hand on his bent arm. Eventually his gaze found it’s way toward her own, locking on a brunette woman… Stranger no doubt, speaking with Eva and Rolf. His eyes squinted slightly as the questions quickly plagued his mind.

He could feel Anneka slowly leaning in closer to him and speaking with a hushed tone. "That girl talking to Rolf and his mother, do you know who she is?”

He shook his head. ”I haven’t a clue,” he said quietly.

Once the ceremony had ended, the crowd began to depart. Those whom were no hunters but friends left and were on their way while the hunters lingered. When only veiði-maðr were left, they descended down into the hunter’s barracks beneath the church, it’s entrance hidden back beyond the alter. Down below, the second part to the passing of a veiði-maðr took place. It was custom to first morn, then celebrate the life of the person who has left this world and found their place in heaven among the hunters of ages past. As per custom, to start the celebration, the leader of the veiði-maðr is to say some words in honor of the fallen hunter and their family.

Gustav gave Anneka a kiss on the cheek before slipping from her grasp. He grabbed himself a drink before he stood before the others that were gathered there. He gently clinked a utensil against his glass to get everyone’s attention. ”I know today has been a hard day for us all, Rolf and Eva more than the rest of us. Anton was a great man. He was loved and respected by each and everyone of us. There has never been a veiði-maðr as loyal, strong and dedicated as him. Seeing him go will not be easy on us, but we take comfort in knowing that he has ascended to heaven to live amongst the veiði-maðr of old until we too join him.”

He took a moment to take a deep breath, shifting the conversation to more important matters. ”Anton was a big blow, not just on us as a family, but on the veiði-maðr. Never before has a völva been so bold as to come into our homes and strike us down where we sleep. This attack is personal. This is beyond defense or self preservation… And I believe this to be an act of war. We will discover who did this to Anton and stop them before they take another innocent life! Today we celebrate the life a great man and tomorrow we no longer hunt from the shadows, but finally work to once and for all purge Geiranger of the völve and their taint.” With that Gustav raised his glass in a toast and then finished off his drink.

Unworthy of Valhalla: Out Of Character (OOC)

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