Act I

[Doviie] Iðunn, The Völva




The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the Storm-King speeds fro the North to night
And this is the song the Storm-King sings,
As over the world his cloak flings:
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
Her rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
"Sleep, little one, sleep."




THE AIR STINGS EXPOSED SKIN as frost has not yet abandoned this land yet. While the touch of Winter has long dismissed itself, it's slow and laggard offspring of chill demands to extend its time, moving like a rolling fog along the coastal shores and outstretching pine. A weary traveller felt her body bob gently up and down atop the back of a war horse, her inked hands clutching on the reigns, trying to keep afloat as each breath released proved itself shallow. Days have stretched on, the exact number unknown, for everything felt more like a blur than a reality that took its time. One moment she was in the company of her community, the next being hauled onto a ship doomed to sink. Idunn's thoughts mused on the outrage of the Gods for believers manhandling someone who speaks on their behalf; forcing her craft as if it would lead them to true bounty. The crash of Thor's bolt mocked their mistaken bravery, and down the sails had gone, leaving none but a few to touch the dusted shoreline.

She had been quick in her actions. Taking what she could and wandering away, refusing to help those who took without consent. Rage had filled her chest, and when she spat upon the ground, her eyes were laced in misfortune on their souls. Her luck had been both brief and sudden, however, in coming across some sort of siege that allowed her to direct a mount for her own use. And now, here she continued to stroll. Her body being directed across foreign lands, surrounded by those who most likely did not speak her tongue.

Her pale hair laid damp on her shoulders; sticking to her shivering skin as her garments were tattered in various places. When she blinked, she felt a stray droplet of water slip from her right lash; residue from a previous downpour.

"Be still." Her voice croaked out, a feminine lift dug lower in tone due to craving hydration. Fingers pulled on the reigns of the horse and it obeyed the action to pause motion. She closed her eyes and lifted her neck backwards, letting the air touch her neck fully while her breast raised and lowered with each passing breath.

"Alfǫðr, show me the way. Let Frœyjɑ be my guide."

She kept still, allowing her focus to place itself on sensation and sound, listening to the voices that danced across the wood. A few minutes ticked by before she heard the caress of a nearby stream. A gentle, yet withered smile stretched across her chapped lips, thankful for the guidance as she reared the mount to its destination. Following the noise and her intuition, Idunn soon located a thin riverbank that snaked itself across the forest, the current soft along its path.

Her motions were slow as she slid off the back of the animal, providing a gentle pat along its neck as her bare feet felt the cushion of damp soil and grass. Idunn touched the satchel she had managed to keep on her person, fingers searching for the desired contents inside. Once it was touched to her palm, the Seeress pulled out pieces, body moving towards the stream before feeling herself slip down, knees sinking into the soft earth, and figure bending forwards so her face was mere inches away from the water.

"I ask for your knowledge. Your direction and truth. Show me my purpose here, be it victory or surrender."
She spoke in a gentle whisper before crushing the contents from her bag, slipping them into her mouth, and then cupping her hands into the river to drink. There, then, she would wait. Figure easing back into a recline on the ground, eyes glancing up to peak through the trees and see slices of the sky above, while the horse nearby found nourishment in the surrounding grass.

Be it a half-hour, an hour, or more. Time seemed to stand still as her heartbeat ran steady, body appearing to careen off into a rest, yet her mind still ever awake. She felt the effects of her concoction slip throughout her system- the sounds of nature heightening in her ears. Her mind began to dance in the familiar way known to each mystic, and as she lay, she opened her eyes, embracing herself in the vibrant colours of the world and the way she could see the energy pooling itself from everything that contained life.

"Iðunn."

It felt like a whisper. A voice more like the echo of a phantom.

The völva breathed in deep, letting the sensation and vision wash over her like a blanket of mist. Her hands snaked up her sides, fingers grazing now against her neck, body stretching as she absorbed the cryptic message. She watched the world dim and darken; catch the release of a thousand crows slip out from branches and almost engulf the blue above. There was a shadow, tall and broad, and she felt herself sit-up, eyes cast far away as if she were truly seeped in a dream. The figure shifted from one place to the next, coming close then teasing far, before it appeared to repeat itself in a direction that brought her neck to turn. One arm outstretched, finger pointing off East from her current placement, and as she accepted this path, there did the body suddenly show a pool of lightly waved, golden hair, with a back cloaked in a robe of fur.

And just as it was, it was then so gone. Leaving her to process it before falling off into a partial sleep by the bank, taking a moment to take in the vision through temporary unconsciousness. Nothing but the horse and the sound of the running water kept her company, but none too far was there also the croak of a nearby raven.


[Femto] Prince Fargrim, Claimant of Normandy


A black steed rode wildly through the cool Frankish forest, atop a hooded man, a messenger. He clutched the reins of his companion harshly as he dodged trees, and within his cloak he bore a piece of parchment, held to his chest by a leather strap that also held his cloak on. He would soon arrive to the Château d'Ombrage, an ancient citadel constructed masterfully by the early Romans, though the history on them is unknown to the average human, so alternate reasonings are constructed. The most popular reason to Nordic people was that Giants and Dwarves did all the work, as no mere human could figure out any mechanism to cut stone so finely and lift immense structures in perfect order.

Blonde locks draped over the young prince's face as he laid his torso upon his white mare to rest. His eyelids were closed as he took in the cool breeze that came head on, causing his free-flowing hair to blow gently in the wind as he let his steed walk gracefully, following closely behind another man who rode a black horse, a large wooden shield slung over his back with a pair of axes at his sides. Fargrim's lids opened to reveal his deep blue hues, scanning the man in front of him before his orbs looked from side to side to analyze his current position. "I don't want to arrive unannounced. We just took their castle and slain their just inherited king. I'm sure they aren't in the best of moods regarding that." Fargrim's deeper voice spoke, some of the party members surrounding him chuckling, finding his statement amusing. "And I heard he squealed like one of our pigs back home when he was run through." A young male spoke, to which Fargrim's hues darted over in his direction. "If you speak like that in their presence you're as good as dead, Torstin." Fargrim spoke harshly but earnestly, knowing the man by name. He sighed deeply to try to relieve himself of the built-up stress from the siege that lasted months, but to no avail; his nerves could not be quelled. He was on edge internally, but externally he tried his best to remain composed.

Soon enough, Fargrim's smaller caravan of around twenty well-armed men, some mounted and some not, approached a small stream to refill on water and let the horses drink to their fill. The prince rode up to the edge of the stream and dismounted, leaving his weaponry and tools strapped upon the blackened leather saddle of his white mare, but he did keep a small knife strapped to his belt to not be defenseless. He leaned down to cup his hands into the colder water to let it pool up before bringing it to his mouth to take a drink. He then repeated the same motion but splashing the water onto his face, letting the water drip from his jawline and chin as he begun to walk further upstream to see what was ahead out of curiosity. Peering further ahead he could make out a few doe lying side-by-side, but in the same direction he could see a figure laid upon the ground. Fargrim approached cautiously, one careful and slightly elegant stride towards the body before stopping roughly fifty feet away to peer once more. He noted that it was a woman, seeing how her body curved where a woman should, accompanied by the long whiter hair. Most men would let down their guard at this point, but where Fargrim came from, shieldmaidens existed, and they could be just as ferocious as the men.

Torstin, the man who made the comment earlier stepped behind Fargrim, carrying a bow with a nocked arrow. "Who is she, my lord?" Fargrim stayed silent for a long moment, as he simply watched her, then starting his walk towards her once more. "Let's find out." He replied in a gentle tone.


[Doviie] Iðunn, The Völva


Each dream was more of the same. Shadows shifted from one place to another. The sky dipped from a robin's egg blue into an expanding splash of ink. She heard the rustle of a large feline's paw dig into the earth, its shapely form winding down its own path, waiting for her own body to follow after it as it guided her from one marker to the next. All the while would there be flashes, outlines of figures that had yet to truly sketch a solid form, until she was situated in a clearing that displayed an endless see of Eirflower's that stretched out from a forest and more into a valley. In the centre was a tree stump that contained a singular crown. As Idunn began to step deeper into the valley, there did the world darken all the more, and the crown, its make of pure gold and embedded jewels, was lifted into her hands and proceeded to bleed over her fingers, down her forearms, before staining the flowers below.

Before she could even voice her concern or breathe life into questions, ideas of interpretation, the world of dreams began to fall away into the void. Her mind's eye coming to close as the intensity of the herbs lessened. Her body shifted from upon the grass. A brief sigh fell from her mouth as her eyebrows twitched, lids sliding open slowly as she came back to the physical. Idunn remained there for a few more moments, trying to piece back together what she had seen even though it was already threatening to abandon her.
'Remember' she muttered internally. 'What does it mean? What does it entail?'

Pondering was brief when something crunched none too far off. The woman still kept on her back and just took to turning her head in the direction the sound came from, finally catching the sight of two men staring her down with both curiosity and caution. Her expression remained neutral, then inquisitive, feeling a slow bubble of panic threaten to spill into her stomach until she focused on the one standing just slightly more ahead than the other. It was here she sat up until her figure was on her knees, then one leg soon bending before patiently rising to her natural height. Her body would appear bruised and tattered, surely, for her attire was just the same. Her skirt was torn in various sections, rising high enough to show a sizeable amount of leg and thigh on her left side. They'd easily be able to notice the intricate designs that marred her alabaster flesh; symbols that would be familiar to those that walked the path of the All Father and his kin.

"You-" Her right arm lifted, index finger pointing at the slightly closer male.

"You feel... familiar."

It was improbable, but she felt it. Some could claim it is just due to the style and image mirroring her youth of those she grew up with, but not entirely. Still different enough to show a separation. Idunn blinked, eyes narrowing due to thought. Was this her reason? Her eyes widened a little. Was this to be the path taken?


[Femto] Prince Fargrim, Claimant of Normandy


The prince's eyes traveled down to her visible thigh, eying the familiar patterns of his people, his eyes glancing between hers and the markings to put two-and-two together that she shared a similar culture to his. Before Fargrim could speak and approach any further, he was pointed at, making him stop in his tracks. He raised his left brow at her assumption, as he did not recognize her nor recall anyone bearing her resemblance.

"You don't." He replied bluntly, taking a glance back over his shoulder at Torstin, who gave a shrug as a non-verbal reply.

Fargrim returned his gaze back onto the woman with pale hair, becoming intrigued by her statement and location. "You are a Vǫlva. I can tell just by your markings. What brings you to these lands?" He asked in a sort of interrogative manner. A few other men from the princes caravan started to approach as well in curiosity, but stopping near Torstin and letting Fargrim take the lead.


[Doviie] Iðunn, The Völva


There was a nip in the air. It had been there previously, but felt all the more prominent at the moment. Bumps began to rise along the seeress' limbs, hair standing on end with sections tingling due to oncoming evening when the temperature would drop. As the two strangers looked to one another, other portions of his party began to near. Idunn listened to the curt manner in which he addressed her. He had the air of a leader. Many would connect her being as an omen which often resulted in being careful, both in words and action. Some took to disregard, yet the misfortune that could follow was superstitious enough that it paused actions that would turn unfavourable.

Her eyes still held a dream in their depths. The residual effects of her concoction still swirled inside her body enough that Idunn felt far more in-tune with the world, still.

"Greed is what pushed me here." She began, her body turning briefly, figure drawing closer to the edge of the river.
"Men took what was not given, and the Gods punished them. Their souls now be condemned to Hela's garden." Idunn fished into her satchel as she bent back down, collecting some of the running liquid into a waterskin. "Yet, there is no path for me home. Not yet. I've seen a Crown as it bleeds, staining plants of vitality. I sense the All Father is guiding me to a throne in aid. Someone here is riddled with corruption, either it being their surrounding or an eventual possibility."

Idunn clasped the waterskin closed before turning to the men. She stood tall and took calm strides, walking towards them, towards the man closest. As she neared she drank in his image. Tried to put the familiarity into place that still fluttered in her chest.

"You know of my kind, and seem of my ways. Would you, perhaps, know which way I should take that shall lead me to this purpose?" Her voice was calm as she spoke. Close enough now that her words, even if not as loud as before, could still clearly be heard. She sensed this familiarity is either to guide her to the demands of her vision, or perhaps, it is already looking right back at her.


[Femto] Prince Fargrim, Claimant of Normandy


His blue hues followed every one of her movements, taking in her bodily proportions, her mannerisms, and her face, just as she did to him. He listened to her words intently as she spoke, clasping his hands together near his groin as a subconscious mechanism of boosting focus and feeling more secure as she approached closer. As she approached closer, Torstin lifted his yew bow, and drawing the string back and aiming at her torso. Fargrim’s merely heard the noise of the drawn bowstring and lifted his hand with an open palm to cease the action. Though he did not know this woman in front of him, he didn’t want to risk harming or even killing a woman of the gods. Despite his recent thoughts of the slightest skepticism in his own faith, this action was an absolute in his mind. Anyone would feel the gods full wrath if harm came upon a seer.

Fargrim listened to all of her words before deciding to challenge her with his own ideology. ”Men take and give every single day. What the gods have given is interpretive. Who’s to say this entire world isn’t for our taking?” He replied to her with outstretched arms to reference the land around them. He looked over at her as he spoke, then looked down at the ground in thought as he begun to take slow and careful steps back and forth near his position, pacing. “These are Christian lands. Enemy of the gods, no? I say we should take everything here..or perhaps ‘share’, if we could.” The latter sentence dictating the dissenting opinion in his mind. His eyes returned to meet her gaze. ”I’m not sure which way you should take to reach your destiny, but the decision in my mind is starting to reveal itself. You could follow us, me rather. Perhaps the Nornir sewn your fate in accompanying me?” Fargrim said the last part with a slight smirk.

His face then changed to a solemn look, voice then lowering to a calmness that matched hers. ”I won’t hesitate to help a seeress. We’re traveling to this nearby fortress dubbed ‘The Château’ where the Frankish royalty resides for political matters. Care to join?” He prompted the question, body starting turn towards his mare, but eyes locked on hers, awaiting her response.


[Doviie] Iðunn, The Völva


From where she stood, watching the stranger while her bare toes dipped into the moss and soil below, a slip of her right brow came to rise at his follow-up regarding the world being ripe for control. "Your thought process is intriguing." The Seeress hummed, watching the way a bow had raised then lowered at the sign of this man's command. The orders were followed without question.  As the nameless soul took steps back and forth, she watched intently, even coming to count the steps he took that seemed to mirror of an equal number. A methodical man, but how methodical does it stretch?

"I sense great ambition in you." She said with no waver in her voice. "Is that your desire, then? To ensure the All Father has his mark on these foreign lands? Guide them into the fold of our ways?" Now it was her turn to move, body drifting towards her left, footsteps light and airy. It was a simple question meant to see what pushed him forwards, for many it was due to glory and acceptance that would unearth the halls of Valhalla when it was time. Others, it was their own path of destiny; riches and reputation. Perhaps this was the proper course for now, as something in her soul was whispering for her to follow indeed. Time spent with these folk may show exactly what hand was expected.

Yet, it was at the catch of Frankish Royalty that caught her ear and brought her to pause, then turn and face him fully. She looked over to see the full collection of his companions, all warrior men, and gave a dip of her head that was a nod. "I feel this is a wise choice. I will join." Her body gave a light shiver from a nearby wind, soon coming to turn and head towards the horse she had snatched. Giving it a light caress along its mane, Idunn grasped onto the reigns of leather and hauled herself upwards, one leg on either side.

"I am Idunn, and you are?"


[Femto] Prince Fargrim, Claimant of Normandy


He watched her carefully as she both moved gracefully and spoke. "Lots of things are intriguing in this world, just some things more than others." He said as his lips curled into a toothless smile. He heard her question asking about his desire and what he wanted to do with his destiny, but he acted like he hadn't heard it for a long moment. He glanced over at his fellow brethren and moved his head to the side to nonverbally tell them 'let's go'. Some of his men were eyeing the Seeress with mixed emotions. Some with awe, internally thanking the gods graciously that they should bless their travels with the presence of a god-whisperer. Others took it as a bad omen, believing whenever the gods meddled in human affairs nothing good came from it.

Fargrim's mare walked itself up to him and shook its head, causing the reins to swing wildly for a moment. He smiled at the action and let his hand caress his horse's mane before grasping onto the reins to hoist himself up into his saddle as well. He glanced over at Iðunn once she spoke her name and sighed quietly to himself, having thinking his answer through thoroughly before finally answering. "And I am Fargrim. Fargrim Sigmundsson. As for your question, I have thought about it. To be frank, I do not think of the All Father when making decisions like these. Perhaps I am his vessel and acting upon his whim, but I am my own man in a man's world. I rather spread my own mark than Odin's. He already owns everything we see here." Fargrim spoke confidently to her, his eyes watching her to gauge her reaction whilst his blonde locks blew gently from the chilled wind but remaining unfazed.

His men in the distance seen that the prince mounted and took that as a cue to begin packing up what they briefly laid out. His men slowly beginning to join him in rank behind him, talking amongst themselves, watching the pair, or just remaining silent. His caravan itself was composed of roughly 70% men and 30% women. Of the twenty-ish souls that followed him, only a handful were clad in iron armor or chainmail, the rest wore hardened leather. Fargrim himself wore a chainmail shirt underneath him tunic, but other than that, he was laid bare for any blade. Out of pure generosity, one of Fargrim's men approached Iðunn and extended an arm towards her, holding a brown cloak with wolves skin. His bearded face stared at hers, then looking down as a sign of respect. "Don't want a Vǫlva freezing" He said in his deep Nordic accent.


[Doviie] Iðunn, The Völva


She said little in the moment. Instead, she allowed him time to ponder his thoughts. Let her words expand on his mind, for a properly thought out answer was better than a hasty one. Numerous eyes began to linger over her form. She could already sense which were ones of acceptance and wonder, and those that would prefer she'd rather drift back into the bush and be elsewhere. There was often never a neutral stance to her kind. Be it praise or dislike, never a medium nod. Either or, Iðunn took to disregarding most. She worked as she did, and did so to ensure the God's had an avatar to speak through. Chaos or blessing was not of her own, after all. She was but the messenger and guide.

The words of the man, this Fargrim, was unique indeed. Perhaps' there were more who thought like him, to be true, but many did not speak so bold as to voice it aloud. Her intense stare fell on his features as she turned her head upon the horse; eyes mixed of numerous emotions that could not really be placed just yet. "What a freeing outlook you have. Perhaps that is just what is necessary." Her lips twitched at the ends in a partial smile, or even considered more of a smirk, just as a soldier announced himself close by with the offering of a cloak. Iðunn looked down at the man from her slightly higher post, a genuine grin on her lips as she reached down to feel the fur along her fingers.
"Þakka þér fyrir." Her retort was that of thanks and said just as his eyes cast downwards. "The Gods shall always aim to reward those who do good for their kin." She'd bring her index finger and lick the tip of it before pressing the pad along his brow, sealing her good will into his skin. Afterwhich, Iðunn raised the cloak and swept it across her shoulders, bundling it around her form and already beginning to feel the warmth it provided. Her exposed leg and thigh due to her tattered skirt proceeded to dot in goosebumps due to the shift in temperature, and so she rubbed along it with the flat of her left palm before adjusting the reins and turning the stallion in the direct necessary to walk where Fargrim planned.

"Lead the way, Fargrim Sigmundsson." Was what she said just as her horse positioned itself off to the man's left side.


[Femto] Prince Fargrim, Claimant of Normandy


The man that offered her the cloak bowed his head even further in reverence, being one of the ones who saw the gods as absolute as well as their subjects to be highly respected. He could feel the cool wind blow against the saliva that was placed on his forehead, glancing up at Fargrim afterwards, bowing his head towards him though slightly less than what he gave to Iðunn. Fargrim gave a half smile at him as he watched the man return to his own horse in the back. The prince reached up to brush his blonde locks back with his moderately callused hand to clear his face of any loose hairs being blown in the wind. Fargrim acknowledged Iðunn's words by a glance and turned his torso some so he could look behind him, seeing his people look to him for both direction and to nonverbally say they were ready to move on. As the blonde man gazed upon those that followed him, a thought sprang into his head.

"Be nice to have a Berserkir among us, never know when you could use the help of an animal." He mentioned quietly to himself and perhaps enough for the seer to hear as well.

He then turned his body back into its natural state and flicked the reins to his white mare. "Go." He said simply but in a commanding tone to get his horse to begin to walk in the same direction his caravan was going originally. Just as he did, the rest of his party followed behind, the sound of horse clopping and human boots on ground becoming apparent alongside the chattering of those that accompanied him. Eventually they reached the end of the river which led into a lake, but they rode past it in the general eastern direction, then soon coming onto a stone path many Frankish people travelled upon. It did not take long for them to encounter such people, and the looks they received were of pure disdain, disgust, awe, and other like emotions. Fargrim's head stayed still as a rock whilst his blue eyes moved from soul to soul, looking into their eyes boldly. His gaze would be matched quite a lot, but just as much it was avoided by both men and women alike for simple reasons, mostly out of fear and intimidation.