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Ivar Torrun

WIP

99 views · last seen in
a character in “Unworthy of Valhalla”, as played by FaddedFox

Description

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Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Role:
vaettr
Orientation:
Heterosexual
Appearance:
Ivar is a blond green-eyed teddy-bear. In battle or when protecting those he loves, his warrior's physique and sharp eyes can be intimidating. Among friends, he softened and a smile is not far from his lips. There is a certain mirth that brights a new lightness and ease in his movements. He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly until he gets pissed off or has a mission to carry out. He sports various scars on his body from the fights he's been in. He also has the tattoo of the Christian cross on his right breast. On his left, the matching blood sigil that binds him to Leif's whims. Around his neck is a simple string with a bit of metal woven into the Irish family symbol; the last thing his mother had given him.

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Weapons:
When he was among the living, Ivar was a talented warrior. He had had to rely on his battle wits at various points in his short life, and often found himself fighting along side various types of allies; each which have taught him new techniques. He originally learned to fight using a regular short sword and battle-axe which he quickly found too heavy. It didn't allow him much in the way of flexibility and battle-axes are slow, even if they are powerful. He graduated to regular swords and shields which provided room for more flexibility, but he wasn't happy until he picked up the halberd. By far this is his most favored weapon as it is a pole arm which allows for distance and nimble maneuvers. Plus, it has a hook, point, and ax at the end; giving him various advantages. He has trained with the halberd extensively and is was his weapon of choice in all of his ventures.

Ivar wasn't stupid. He knew the halberd had its weakness, such as getting it immobilized or split. So, he carries several daggers on his person which he can use as a back up. He understands the power of being quick, surprising, and flexible in his fighting style. Ivar wasn't a warrior easily taken down. He may have had a bleeding heart for others, but that in no way dampened his skills in a fight. He was not a hunter to be taken lightly and if he'd lived through the age and had children of his own, no doubt his line would have been a great asset to the cause.


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Strengths:
Weapon-master - He has learned flexibility with a variety of weapons and does not often just carry and use one type of weapon. He's a fan of weapons that have many uses.
He's dead, so he doesn't have to worry about endurance or bleeding out if hurt.
He is an excellent tracker considering he was a hunter for a living. This goes for both animals and witches.
His faith to honor, mercy, and to his convictions gives him the ability to continue persevering and trying to stand against Leif.



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Weakness:
He is controlled by Leif so he doesn't have free-will.
He's dead so without Leif, he'd be stuck in Vægher unable to communicate with the living.
Once someone damage his 'body' enough, he fades back into Vægher for a period of time for his energy to recover and even Leif can't pull him out without risk ripping him to shreds.
Ivar is too trusting and see's the good in everyone and wants to give them a second chance or save them from themselves. This is what got him killed in the first place.



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Fears:
Ivar fears that he will lose himself and become a poltergeist in Vægher. He knows he walks a fine line considering his soul chips away closer to this fate the more he fights against Leif.
He also fears never seeing heaven because of the things that Leif forces him to do and that he'll become unworthy of the rest and holy embrace and sent to hell.
♦ Being lonely terrifies Ivar. He's always been one to favor people and without communication and kinship, he fears going mad.



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Personality:
Loyal ღ Protective ღ Compassionate ღ Honorable

To most, Ivar looked and acted like a naive faithful, often allowing others to insult him without retaliation. He was docile for a hunter and some mistakenly assumed him to be the weakest link in the hunter ranks. Many appealed to his generosity and took advantage of his hopeful and idealist nature. He sees the good in everyone and always trusts first which can land him in hot water on occasions. He prefers talking over fighting and is passive unless push comes to shove. He doesn't want to cause needless death and suffering. This at times puts him at odds with the priests who were in charge when he was sent out to kill witches, but just because he would rather be peaceful doesn't mean he is not stubborn. He could be as immovable as the mountains himself when he sets his mind to something. Ivar has a deep sense of what is wrong and right and fair, and that doesn't mean he blindly follows the priests. He understand that priests are human too and may make mistakes, though he'd never say that to anyone.

Ivar is a man of faith, so he tries to be the merciful, kindhearted person the Bible wants its disciples to be. Ivar wasn't always a selfless person but over the years he found he wanted that change and so he strove to emulate the image whenever he could. His fellow hunters didn't always know what to make of him and his almost witch-supporting mercy. Where they always hunted the witches and put them down before they could utter a word, Ivar gave them a chance. He didn't hate witches, nor did he believe they were inherently evil. He grew up in a world were witches were supported and loved and so a part of him believed it couldn't all be as bad as the priests urged. And if they were really doing the will of God, then he was to show compassion to others and mercy.

Outside of witch hunting, Ivar enjoyed the peace and quiet of the world and silent contemplation. He could often be found at the church or in lush meadows just staring off into the distance, contemplating the Word or other things. Others may have thought him an air-head, often distracted from the present, but he just liked to think about the bigger picture. His mother deemed him her little philosopher and if life had been kinder, perhaps he would have just traveled the world, investigating its wonders or lived a life of a hermit.

His desire to be kind-hearted however, doesn't necessarily mean he was complacent. When he needed to be, he was a fierce warrior, akin to a bear that was prodded awake. He doesn't like killing but sees it as necessary in instances when diplomacy cannot be reached. There is only so far charity can go if one continually bites the hand offered. That and he has a deep desire to keep those he loves safe. He is extremely protective of kin and those he puts his trust in. The Bible may implore him to turn the other cheek and he often does if the affront is towards him, but he cannot let it go when those he cares for are the ones being abused or threatened. In the battle field, he is cold and calculated. He does not toy with people and he has no love for torture and pleading. He was not an enemy one wanted to make and face in the battle field. He is very loyal to his friends and his cause and little could deter him from it.

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History:
Ivar's father was originally from Scandinavia but during one voyage, he decided to stay behind in Ireland where he'd met Ivar's mother. The two had did their best to live a simple life but over the years, the viking raids continued to threaten the shores of Ireland. When Ivar was 3, his father decided that perhaps it was time to return to his roots and begged his wife to follow him there in the hopes that they would find a better life there. There would be less raids after all and they could still live a peaceful life. His mother Merith was reluctant to go to the enemy so to speak, but she trusted her husband's judgement and so the little family began to travel in the hopes to get on a ship and venture to their future. Things didn't go as planned. Before they could reach the boat that would take them across the sea, they got caught in a raid. Up to that point, Ivar's father had been able to hide his family away and avoid his kinsman but his luck ran out.

Warriors attacked the quaint little home and Ivar's father died defending his wife and child. Merith fought back against the warriors but she was no match for the raiders. She was raped and before she and her screaming child were killed, the chieftan of the raiders stayed their hand. He thought Merith beautiful and so took her as his prize. He liked the fire she displayed even in the face of danger and decided he'd let her keep her child. He could always shape a child as young as Ivar to what he wanted, or so he assumed. So he took them both as slaves and Merith and Ivar did travel to Scandinavia, though not in the manner they had originally planned.

Merith became the Chieftan's slave, doing as he willed to keep her son safe though she proved defiant in various covert ways. Against the Chieftan's wishes, Merith educated her son to read and write and told him about Ireland and his father. The chieftan himself trained Ivar to fight with an axe, and a sword in shiled in the hopes to bolstter his warband. Ivar proved to be an excellent fighter and quick study but the older he grew, the more he realized his place and the plight of his mother who was forced to the Chieftan's bed whenever the viking had wish of it. He was not gentle to his mother and quickly gained Ivar's ire. Ivar kept his feelings to himself but let the rage grow in his heart while he waited. Unfortunately, he waited to long for one day when Ivar was 15, his mother never returned her room after visiting the chieftan. It appeared the man had grown bored of her, having a new younger concubine to occupy his time with.

The instant anger and grief Ivar felt dulled his mind to the reason why he wanted to wait and while the chieftan slept, Ivar crept into his room and murdered him. He tried to save the woman he lay with but she refused to go and kept screaming for guards and in a moment, he slit her throat to quiet her. Then with guards hot on his heals, he fled. His choice to kill the woman plagued him. She hadn't needed to die and how was he any better than the man he slew if he would so quickly kill an innocent? In his lonley travels, he often held the pendent his mother gave him of the Irish symbol of unity and family and tried to reconcile his choice. He even prayed to the gods for some kind of guidance now that he was a fugitive. Over the years, he found himself running from his previous house, other travelers he stole from to survive, and other men who seeked to kill a 'foreigner' thanks to his pendant. He quickly learned to keep it hidden.

He lacked a purpose beyond surviving for a few years as he just traveled and continued to practice his war arm, knowing he needed to stay strong. He killed anyone who got in his way of survival but tried to avoid killing the weak unless they came after him. At 19, he wanted to find his purpose. He went to another chieftan's territory and made a case to join his warband and gave hima proposal. He'd do a task to prove his worth an dif he passed, he would serve in the man's warband. If he failed, then he died. The chieftan granted him the challenge and fought against the chieftan's strongest warrior. The older man was cocky, thinking Ivar a weak upstart. His overconfidence lead him to his death. Impressed, the chieftan agreed to take Ivar into his house. It was here that he learned how to fight with the halberd. The flexibility and various uses of the halberd quickly made it his favorite and he trained with i extensively.

Ivar was always one to strive for approval and since his chieftan had let him into the warband based on worth, he tried to always prove worthy of the honor. He became a loyal and viscious warrior for the man. This went on till he was 23. He became known for his battle proes but there was something missing. The more he fought, the more he felt like he was losing himself and his purpose. The faces of those he killed haunted him. He knew that many of them had been innocent or had deserved a different end but so tangled was he in his loyalty, he'd done as the man asked. More and more Ivar started to pull away from his previous friend in the band and sought peace. But he didn't find it. Instead his mind painted him in the image of a monster, a savage and hungry wolf that never seemed sated by the death around him.

That's when he met a young slave in a house not far from his own and the two struck up a romance. She calmed his mind for a while, helping him over his self hatred. But unfortunately, everything good in his life faded. He soon found out that his lover was to be sacrificed. Her chieftan had died and a handful of his closest slaves were to be sacrificed to serve upon the chieftan in Valhalla. Torn by the unfairness, he begged her to run away with him. She agreed but hurried home to gather a few things and agreed to meet him that night. She never returned. Her sacrifice brought back his memories of his start in life, his mother and how wrong it all was. What kind of religion and law would condone such attrocities? It just ripped people away from their life and tormented them. He started cursing the gods and fate and once more he was filled with rage at the injustice.

Seeing his favorite warrior upbended, his chieftan decided he needed some new sights to get his mind clear. So, he sent him on a raid to Ireland, something Ivar had managed to avoid doing up to that point. Ivar hoped that going to Ireland might help him resolve some issues and heart ache but at first, it made everything worse. He participated in the raid and watched as poor people fought against them and then how many innocents had to flee from the victors. He saw first hand the horrors of what his people were doing to the innocents of Ireland and then how they pillaged their sacred churches. These were people who couldn't defend themselves! They had no weapons, no real training in combat. They were fafmers and holly men; women being raped and children murdered. It broke him. How could he keep serving a man that would do this? How could he be part of a people and religion that saw this as just? It made him hate his own people and himself for even participating in the fight.

Using his survival skills from his years in the forest, he hid. The men looked for him but eventually they gave up and set sail back home. Now alone again, Ivar walked the streets and watched as people coward away from him. He went to the church were most of the damage had been done and saw the priests that were left run and hide from the 'monster'. He dropped to his knees in front of the broken statue and just cried. It was the first time he let all of his heart ache come out. The father of the church was the first to approach him when the warrior was spent and reached a hand out to him and implored him to speak if he needed to speak his sins and there would be mercy and forgiveness if he repented. The rest of the dam broke then. Here was a man that should hate him and fear him but instead was offering him help. How could someone just forgive the attrocities? Ivar spilled everything to the priest and for once, he did feel at peace, and calmed by the man's companionship and ear. Then the father told him about Christianity and what it was the church really stood for. The mercy and kindness he heard made him yearn to learn about it all. He read the Bible and the teaching and let the priests baptise him into Christianity.

Slowly from there, he entered into the order of hunters. Their goal may have been to irradicate witches, but his goal was to conver them, save them from the horrors of Norse law and religion, to give them a different peace and freedom. Unfortunately, some witches had to be killed though he took no pleasure in killing them. He often gave them second chances. Sometimes this was met with ire when he went against orders, but he wasn't going to blindly follow men in power, even priests. He follows the Bible as he understood it and through the teachings of the father that converted him. Unfortunately, his desire to see the good in everyone and give mercy where there usually is none, got him killed. He chased a witch down and she begged for mercy, for him to spare her and he stayed his weapon. She promised to convert and when he offered her his hand she took it. She he glanced away from her, she burried a poisoned dagger into the space between his armor. The initial blow didn't kill him like she had hoped as he had managed to evade a killing shot, but she wasn't so lucky a second time. Ivar slit her throat and it wasn't much longer before the poison spread in his blood stream. He tried to hurry back to the church for aid but the poison was too strong. His nervous system shut down and he found the ground the last thing he saw of the mortal realm. Instead of release to finally rest in heaven, he found himself in Vaeghar where the other spirits of the witches and hunters now resided. The witches he killed tormented him, especially the last witch he'd slain and for a while she badgered him, intent on backing this place hell for him. Eventually she used too much of her magic and her spirit shredded. From then on, Ivar stayed away from most of the spirits there, trying to find some sort of peace in the empty place but eventually began to seek out others, even witches for companionship, seeking to understand them and their motivations.

And then he met Leif who gave him updates about the mortal world. He was a young witch when they met and Ivar found he enjoyed his company and their chats. They often had interesting arguments and for a time, Ivar enjoyed trying to help him. When Leif's intentions and mind began to twist with blood magic, Ivar began to pull away, when he realized nothing he said would deter the witch from his pursuit. Unfortunately, Leif eventually bound him to his person, allowing him access to the mortal realm, but now Ivar worries he'll be used against his fellow hunters and forced to kill or hurt the innocent. He wants to help save Leif but now wonders if he is far beyond aid and divine forgiveness even if he did repent, though it is not his place to judge. In the end, he just wants peace and rest, away from the horrors of the mortal world and of Vaeghar if the only purpose left to him is to go against everything he'd come to believe in.

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So begins...

Ivar Torrun's Story

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
vaettr| #008B8B| outfit
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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
volva| #8C1717| outfit
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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.

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: Leif Blakely Character Portrait: Ivar Torrun Character Portrait: Tove Blakely
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Footnotes

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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
o u t f i t x // x x

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The confusion on the son's face was understandable, and for a brief moment Livia wondered if maybe it would have been better to wait a few days after the funeral to introduce herself to the grieving family after all. She steeled herself, prepared to apologise and leave, when Eva took a step forward and placed her hands on Livia's arms, meeting her gaze.

"Any friend of Anton's is a friend of ours. We appreciate you travelling here on his behalf and any help you offer."

"Yes, thank you... Ms. Landon."

"Please." Livia waved her hands back and forth, her pleasant smile slipping back on like a second skin. "It's the least we can do. And, call me Livia."

Looking around, she noticed that the funeral attendees were beginning to leave, though a few who seemed to be close friends of the deceased remained, waiting. That was probably her cue to go, too. "This is my number -" she dug a post-it out of her bag and a stray pen, and scribbled down the number she'd be using during her time in Geiranger "- do call me soon, and we can talk a little more. Thank you very much for your welcome, and I'm sorry, again, for your loss. If there's anything else I can do, feel free to let me know." She met Rolf's eyes, holding his gaze for a moment before turning away. It seemed to be all the support she could offer for now.

The confused and occasionally suspicious murmurs that had surrounded her ever since she'd entered the funeral home didn't ebb as she left, and the people that parted to let her through had gazes that followed her movement, almost seeming to bore holes into her skin. She pulled the door closed behind her as she stepped out into the cold air, and suppressed a shudder that had nothing to do with the temperature at all.





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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
o u t f i t x // x x

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Lucia hopped onto the offered chair, peering at the tiny words on the page in front of Tove. Maybe because she'd fallen asleep studying her own books, but these were nigh impossible to read, the letters jumbling themselves up every time Lucia tried to make sense of them. She scowled at the words. Why couldn't old books ever be easier to read?

"I am trying to figure out who killed the veiði-maðr. But since I have nothing to go on besides hearsay... it's proving to be quite difficult. You wouldn't have happened to heard anything on your neck of the woods?"

Lucia shook her head, red curls flying. "Not much. Mats's been making guesses, but that's all they are. Stefan really doesn't want to have anything to do with it, so without his cooperation Mats has no way of knowing anything - I think I told you before, they can't make accurate predictions unless they work together." Sending up a silent thought of gratitude that she didn't have powers that relied on a twin's cooperation, she continued, "We don't really know anything. Mama's worried about getting too involved, and Aunt Marie won't say anything about it either. There's only been whispers in the cafe." Considering the network that Lucia's family afforded her, knowing this little was frustrating - she couldn't imagine how Tove must feel. All the same, it was hard to picture any of the völva in their community being so violent, let alone in an unprovoked attack against a veiði-maðr.

"I am home." Lost in thought, Lucia startled at the voice. She hadn't heard the door. Twisting around in her seat, she sighted Leif walking into the shop, leaning over the two of them. "Well hello little firecracker. What are the two of you up to?"

Lucia smiled at the nickname, relaxing into her chair again. "I'm just here to bug Tove, and steal the oxygen in the shop with my chattering," she laughed. "Tove, I forgot - mama asked me to pick some things up, I should be heading back soon. I can help myself though, don't you bother yourself over me!" So saying, she gave Leif's hand a friendly pat and swung her feet to the floor, pulling the list out of her pocket and consulting it as she began to look through the things in the shop.





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r o l e x // x völva
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Lofn's news did not start off alarming - hunters were bound to end up in the Vægher sooner or later, the trouble they always got themselves into. Hardly any of his business. But her next words were definitely cause for concern. "Everyone is on edge… Including your parents. I offered to come check on you… to put them at ease."

Felix's expression softened immediately at the mention of his parents. "Tell them I'm fine - I'm just fine. No one bothers me out here. Well, besides you." He raised his eyebrows, indicating it was only a joke. She should know that he never minded her presence that much, especially when she was kind enough to do his parents favours out of all the souls in the Vægher. "I appreciate you helping them out, Lofn. Their... friends weren't too good to them when they were alive. Knowing that they have a friend in you in Vægher is a comforting thought." He felt the familiar bitterness rising in his voice, and try as he might it would not go away entirely.

"Do you have any idea what’s going on? Who killed the hunter?"

Felix shook his head, turning his attention back to the spinach, combing his fingers through the leaves idly. Talk about the veiði-maðr always made him itchy and fearful in a way he couldn't quite place. "I hardly know who he is, I haven't been into town for a couple of weeks now. You'll get no news from me." I shouldn't be surprised if it was Leif, he thought, but perhaps it was unfair to point fingers without knowing anything. Even if that finger was pointed at a murderous völva who was more than happy to bleed himself dry in order to hunt the veiði-maðr down himself.

Her hand drew close to his, her voice low. "You should be careful… Leave Geiranger before -" The hitch in her words caught Felix's attention. "What? Is something wrong?"

"We're not alone." Normally the mention of another presence hanging around would only irritate Felix more, but the hushed tone of Lofn's voice was enough to put him on edge. Whoever it was...

"Ivar?"

Felix's tension vanished in an instant. He knew that name, much as he wished he didn't. Damn Leif. He still refused to leave him alone. It had been literal years, and he still acted as if he had some right to continue intruding on Felix's life. Didn't he have anything better to do with his spirit servants? He got to his feet, raising his voice, uncaring of how Lofn would respond.

"If you're here to get news for Leif, Ivar, you can tell him I want him to fuck off. You and him both, actually. Get off my property."

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: Synnove Vollan Character Portrait: Kristoffer Årud Character Portrait: Camilla Omdahl Character Portrait: Tove Blakely Character Portrait: Anneka Svanhild
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Ivar Torrun
vaettr| #008B8B| outfit
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Ivar didn't know what to make of Lofn and Felix. Lofn should not be here unless Felix had summoned her as Leif had summoned him. But from what he remembered of Felix, he was not the kind of volva to do something like this. So how was it that Lofn was here? Did she know of another way to appear in this realm without the aid of the living? What was more important was why Lofn was here. If Felix had summoned her, what purpose did he have? Felix was solitary. He didn't seem to care about the struggles between the volva and veidi madr. Was he trying to reach out to his parents perhaps?

At Felix's words however, the spirit faltered. The forceful command may have sent him away from the man's territory, but Leif's strength and command kept him anchored. Either way, it wasn't a very nice feeling. He had hoped that maybe Felix would be open to an exchange with Leif after all this time, but it appeared the man still had no intention of doing that whatsoever. He sighed. His hope for Leif was dwindling. Felix was the only one that could maybe talk some sense into the volva's thick head. And he truly wished he could leave as Felix obviously wished of him.

"Felix. I will give him your message. I wish I could depart. Leif requested I check in on you, make sure you are safe. I can't leave so quickly. It is good to see you are well however." Ivar turned his attention to Lofn then. "Hello Lofn. I am surprised to see you here as well." A part of him was uneasy about it, however. He would have to tell Leif about Lofn though he didn't want to. What would be the volva's response, knowing that a spirit was around Felix? Something in him dreaded the man's response.

"Did Felix call you here?" he asked then. He hoped that wasn't the case. Felix had to know that being bound was horrible. He did not wish it on Lofn, even from a gentle volva like Felix. Kind and good volva could turn wicked, after all, as had been the case with Leif. Magic truly could twist someone up completely in darkness. "And I have a word of caution. I am here by the command of a volva, Leif. Everything I see, I have to tell him. That means I must mention your presence here. I will try to keep it a secret as long as I can to protect you. I don't know what his response will be about the knowledge of a spirit here beside Felix. I hope he sees nothing of it. I just... I felt the need to warn you, in case Leif is unreasonable. He is necromancer and a blood mage."



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Leif Blackely
volva| #8C1717
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Leif watched as Lucia pulled away to start looking for the items on her shopping list. She really was a whirlwind of energy. Between his absence and meditation and his sister's researching habits, the house was often quiet. She certainly brought more 'life' back into the place with her presence. She was a sudden flame and he found her to be a good inspiration with her fire. She was always so eager and happy. A part of him wished he was that exuberant, and he wondered if he ever had been. Always consulting with the dead had a way of making one pensive. Yes, Lucia was definitely a much-needed pick me up if he was ever going to get things done.

”Trying to figure out who the killer völva is. Have you heard anything new?” his sister asked and brought his attention back to her.

"Sadly, nada. Ivar had no idea someone had died. So, either he can't feel it when someone passes on or he was oblivious in his prayers. Either way, no help to us," he sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if he ignores things on purpose just to spite me." He wouldn't put it pass Ivar to try and conceal things, render his help of no use in some way. Their relationship had become strained at times and it was only the fact that Ivar feared for his enteral soul that the vaettr didn't openly defy Leif and shred his soul himself. Still, it was annoying that he had to remind Ivar that he was bound in mind and purpose.

"Anyway, I sent him off to check in on Felix, see if he knows anything. I doubt it considering the fool blinds himself in ignorance. Buuuuuut, I say stay on your toes. Considering our reputation and our shop items, I don't doubt that a veidi madr or two may pay us an unwelcome visit. Make sure anything you use with real magic is out of their greedy little fingers," he mused. He knew his sister was cautious and wouldn't let the hunters notice, but he still wanted to warn his sister.

It was almost a game of cat and mouse and the danger was thrilling. The veidi madr knew their parents had been volva and had them killed. Leif and Tove were on the watchlist but they were both clever. They knew how to hide their magic and continued to look like silly mediums, regular folk dabbling in things without real power. Some of the towns folk new something was up and would never cross them, afraid it would come back to haunt them literally. Others were content to consider them charlatans who faked seances for the feeble minded. It suited Leif just fine. He enjoyed the fact that they stayed just a hand out of reach of the hunters.

"Gods I wish I could go to the scene of the crime and see what happened there. I would be able to find out who the killer was in a flash. But I am sure the veidi madr will have a shit ton more guards there now. I might be able to call on the vaettr himself, but it is too soon after the death to call him forward. He won't tell me what happened. But oooh, maybe I should have Ivar go back to Vaegher and seek out the dead hunter and ask him what happened. I don't know why I didn't think of that before." he mused. "The guy will be far more inclined to answer another veidi madr's questions. Anything else you want Ivar to ask before I call him back from his current task?"



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Anneka Svanhild
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Anneka watched the stranger the entire time she was present. Considering that a volva had gone into a hunter's home, she did not doubt that some would grow balsy enough to try and take down the whole force of the veidi madr in their time of grief. They would assume the veidi madr were weakened, distracted. Oh, they had another thing coming to them if they would try. The hunters were ever vigilant and would not stop being hunters, even on a funeral day; especially on a funeral day. She wished she could get her hands on the volva that had done this to Rolf and his family. She knew revenge would not stop the ache, but it would be ever so satisfying.

Anneka shook her head to clear her mind of such thoughts. She would not distract herself now. The young woman talked briefly with Rolf and passed a note to them before turning away from the service and heading out of the church. Hm. So she really was just here for the service. But how was she related to the family? Rolf and his mother didn't look like they recognized her. How had she heard about the funeral? Was she a veidi madr from somewhere else? If so, why did she not greet the rest of the veidi madr here? This girl was a puzzle and Anneka wanted answers. Nothing could stay unknown in this perilous time.

When Gustav motioned, they all retreated into their base, Anneka gave on last look at the door before she followed her leader to begin the celebratory portion of the service. Anneka drank little, not wanting to lose her wits. She was going to have to stay focused if she was determined to investigate the new face. Her attention settled on her man when he moved away to begin his speech.

”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. 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.”

Anneka raised her glass with Gustav and drank its contents. She agreed full-heartedly that this was war. It had always been war, but now more than ever, something had to change. They couldn't keep dragging this out, waiting for some volva to make themselves known so they could target and kill them one by one. Too many veidi madr were dying this way. They had to ferret them out now. There couldn't be that many volva around. They'd taken care of so many. "Let's rid the world of these sinful bastards once and for all. They've murdered and corrupted this world long enough. I say we're the generation to wipe them out," she added. "We have the will and we each have different strengths. If we really work as a team, I think we can do it in record time. We must be clever about it. I do not want to see any more of our own die before their time.”