Category: Scene

Runeheim slows to a halt, the frigid winds locking the city into a standstill. Nighttime cold was too big a risk for most, so the shattering of glass went unnoticed. Crime was all too easy, businesses closing early, staying empty longer. It isn’t until the sun rises that a frantic bar maid sees the broken window, and rushes to unlock the door, terrified of what she might find. Are they ruined? Is there food? Will she have to find a new way to support her family? The door creaks open. The smell hits her just before the vision.

A scream wakes runeheim.

The tension grows in the silence. Svanhildr looks calm, but Skarde and Fritjof both feel the quiet rage filling the air.
“Breaking and entering.”
“I’ll pay for-” Skarde is quickly silenced by a fierce look from Svanhildr.
“And if that wasn’t bad enough. You do the one thing,  the one, specific thing I told you not to.”
“We just thought-” Fritjof is the one silenced this time, by a soft laugh, almost more terrifying than the stare down.
“You thought?! Tell me please, where have you been hiding that particular talent, and why have you not showcased it for me before now?! No. You two do not think. You were caught, fully nude, on a tavern table, Shaving!” Svanhildr’s voice barely raised, but their gaze grew even more severe as the two hooligans smiled and elbowed each other’s ribs playfully. “The window and the barkeeps discretion is already paid for by house Saenger. But you two owe me personally  for not throwing you both out on your ear. At the very least, some peace and quiet you owe me. Now, get out of here before I have someone throw one of you in the pillory just to keep you separated”

Skarde and Fritjof quickly exited Svanhildr’s study, pausing after they were out of earshot to look at each other before bursting into laughter and stepping once more into an embrace. “Your place or mine?”

A tangle of furs and body parts and sighs later, the two lay staring at the ceiling.
    “How was burying bodies?” Fritjof finally broke the ecstatic silence and he snuggled into Skarde’s chest.
    “Not as exciting as I hoped, Callistra is a bit shy” they both chuckled. “I missed you frit”
    “I know. I missed you too…” There’s a long pause before Fritjof speaks again, “I..I might have to leave you for a bit longer though”
    Skarde’s breath catches, “was I that bad this round?”
    “Hah, never” Fritjof kisses Skarde on the nose. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think and,…there’s some things I need to take care of. Look in to. All that”
    “Sure, I’ll pack and come-” Skarde is silenced by another kiss, this one on the lips.
    “I need to meet with someone alone.”
     “You…you’re going to come back right? Intact?”
      Fritjof brushes his thumb across the bare line he shaved into Skarde’s eyebrow the last time they spoke, and repeated the same words. “I’m not going to abandon you”

The voice fueled me today. Usually it was a nuisance, but sometimes it’s single minded desire to commit atrocities that would make the Hollow Songs cringe could come in handy.
“When I find Alexis, I’m going to take his other fucking eye and have Heimr preserve it.” I said to my self.
“Ah yes, We shall take our vengeance and our pleasure.” The other me said.
You would think I would be disturbed at the desire to enjoy the suffering of another human but today and many others, the thought was as sweet as the best wines of Sartois. The man had taken my sister, and he would pay for it.
The agent who worked for Alexis laid on the ground in front of me, obviously in shock from the skin I had removed from his forearms, and perhaps also from hearing me having a full conversation with myself about murdering his employer. Maybe it was also the fact that he could hear the replies.
“Don’t worry my dear man. We will be done with you as soon as you reveal your master’s location.”
I pressed the dagger gently into the skin of his exposed calf, going blue in the winter air.
“Either you will leave here with some skin left, or you will die as an anatomical presentation for the crows. The choice is yours. It matters little to me, but you and your mind will break.”
His sobs seemed to start to form words.
“Please. I don’t know where he is. I mean it. I was given orders for a delivery. That’s it.” He cried. “Please let me go.”
I believed him.
“Very well. I will grant you your freedom.”

The forest rang with the gunshot.

Ragnar was young, just after the very edge of childhood, 15 or 16 winters, he could never keep track. This day he found himself in the deep woods surrounding his mother’s camp, a place he fled to often. His mother’s Karls were fearsome warriors but they made poor company for Ragnar and when he needed to escape their merciless teasing and downright violent games he went to the woods. At his side was a small hunting knife he’d “borrowed” from one of the Karls who’d had a bit too much to drink, in the past he’d carried a bow when he left, but that had earned him mockery in itself so he stopped that as well. Ragnar moved through the woods doing his best to put their cruel words behind him as he trekked further into the wilderness. Ragnar walked for some time until suddenly he saw a massive hairy figure crouching hidden in the bushes, at first Ragnar thought it was a bear, but as it moved shifting in it’s crouch it became clear that the figure was not an animal, but a man, a large hairy man with a sword strapped across his back. Ragnar’s heart raced, “an enemy scout?” he thought frantically, he needed to return to camp and warn his mother. He began to walk backwards slowly, hoping to escape without the mans notice. Just then his foot caught on a vine and he tripped, crashing into the brush. Ragnar didn’t look to see how the man reacted, he only ran trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Soon Ragnar felt a hand on his shoulder, he spun around with his hunting knife slashing at the hand and shouting, his assailant simply knocked the knife from his hands , stepped forward, placed one hand under either of Ragnar’s arms, and before he could do anything Ragnar was lifted from the ground, “LET GO!” Shouted Ragnar, trying to break free to no avail. As Ragnar struggled he got a look at the man, he was large, with thick dark hair covering every inch of exposed skin, he wore a heavy beard and had a lain leather eye-patch covering his left eye, with the other being a bright blue color, matching Ragnar’s own. The man held Ragnar for a moment, never budging even as he tore and bit the mans arms in a desperate attempt to be free. Slowly the man began to grin before shouting, “I’ve found you! My son!” and pulling Ragnar into an embrace. Ragnar stopped struggling as the man set him back on the ground, “Father? How did you find us?” he asked, his voice shaking and tears welling up in his eyes. His Father smiled and clapped him on the back, “Come my son, I will explain more as we go, there is much to show you.”

Ragnar awoke from the dream in a bed not his own, he looked down at the figure sleeping soundly beside where he’d lain and smiled, then silently, he began to get dressed, he needed to take a walk. A few minutes later Ragnar had left began walking the trails in the wilderness, his thoughts, scrambled and painful, were on the events of the Forum, his folly, his weakness, and his pride. The Friar had told him he needed to learn from this, maybe he did, but what was the lesson? Ragnar walked in silence for some time, his thoughts his only company, until he heard a growling in front of him, Ragnar looked up and saw a wolf. The Wolf was clearly haggard and weak, emaciated from lack of food, it’s fur turning grey along the edges marked it as an elder, and a scar running across the space where it’s right eye had been marked it as a warrior. Ragnar looked around for signs of a pack, and strangely found none, this wolf was alone. Ragnar stared at the beast blocking his bath, it bared it’s fangs at him, growling a challenge, he simply stared back. Frozen in time Ragnar was forced to make a choice, did he move forward as he always did? Did he try to take a different path, to change the way he walked? He stood at a crossroads. Finally Ragnar made his choice and he stepped back keeping his eye on the wolf, he did not wish to fight, he would not accept it’s challenge. All at once the wolf lunged at Ragnar growling, Ragnar spun to avoid it but it’s jaw still clamped down on his arm and the momentum pulled him to the ground. As he fell he spun, placing his free arm on the wolf’s neck and when the landed he landed on top of the beast, pinning it. Ragnar tried to pull his arm free, hoping the shock would have loosened the wolf’s grip, but the creature sank it’s teeth further into his flesh preventing him from leaving, Ragnar roared in pain, his free hand searches for something, anything, until his fingers close around a rock loose in the dirt. The Wolf tears at the flesh on his arm, Ragnar screams and raises the stone, he brings it down. Once, a sickening thud. Twice, a violent crack. Three times, the sound a liquid spilling. Ragnar pulls his arm free from what remains of the wolf’s jaw, covered in blood. The body of the now headless wolf lays in the dirt, spilling it’s lifeblood onto the ground, Ragnar vomits. “Why had the wolf attacked him?” Ragnar thought, but deep down he knew. In a daze Ragnar cleaned his wound, the injuries were deep, but not serious, and then he returned to the bed that was not his own where he slept once again, dreaming of One-Eyed Wolves.

I stared at the little girl with gold ringlets sitting on my knee, she was a spitting image of her mother.
“Uncle Armand, why did the bad man take mommy?” Irinia asked me.
“He wanted to hurt me, sweet girl. He knows I love you all so much.”
“But you saved mommy and stopped the bad man!” She said with a huge smile on her face. “Uncle Armand is a hero!”

Uncle Armand is a hero. No I’m not. I am a villain through and through. A murderer and a thief and a torturer. A man who will do anything he needs to in order to secure his station.

“Maybe if you kill them all you won’t have to deal with this conflict.” It says with its oily voice. “Maybe you can embrace who you are. Who we are. Do it Armand, become one with me.”

I ignore the voice and stare at my niece, sitting there, innocence unshattered by countless lives staining her hands. What I would give to make sure she never feels what I feel, or make the decisions I have to make. What I will give.
“Are you going to kill the bad man, Uncle Armand?” She whispers quietly.
“I am. I will will protect all of you.”

I exit the small cabin into the brisk fall evening. How can I protect them if Alexis is still alive? What is he planning? It doesn’t matter. I will find him and I will do what I do best.
Uncle Armand is a hero.

The wooden wheels creaked as the cart rumbled over the broken earth. They would reach their destination soon, and Skarde’s grim work would begin. He needed to clear his mind so he could focus on memorizing the tales he would be told on the battlefield. He didn’t often get the opportunity to ask his subjects to repeat themselves. At least Tora had offered to drive the last stretch of road here.

Normally this kind of trip would have been perfect for getting him in the right headspace, Tora was a capable lover, No thoughts needed, just action, emotion, passion. The simple way. The good way. And Lady Callistra was so much fun to torment, he could tell she enjoyed herself, despite declining to join in. One day.

So why was Skarde feeling so unsatisfied?

Lady Callistra sighed softly in her sleep and shifted slightly, her head resting on Skarde’s shoulder. He had forgotten she was even there. Even with the movement, he found it hard to convince himself she was, there was an emptiness there at his side. Like something should be pressed up against him but wasn’t.

“Hear the tale of Fritjof, pack leader” Skarde whispered to himself. No, not quite right, he would have to keep working on it.

“We’re here!” Tora called from the driver’s seat, snapping Skarde back to the present. He suddenly realized the smell of blood hung heavy in the air, how had he not recognized it yet? Focus Skarde, focus. It was time for the Ghostkeeper to do his work.