Ostara (The Rites of Spring)

[Xssisha]

A week ago to present:

Hjarlof knew hard traveling. He had had to push his legs beyond their limits on more than a few time sensitive courier jobs, but this was different. This was not for a Jarl, nor for a tidy purse of gold, but for the good of a tiny village and a blind old woman. The boat ride had been short, as far as boat rides go, and now he was making more than his best time on foot, hastening towards the capital of Skoljyr. He had left the shadowed farming village behind, possibly their only hope of aid. Beyond the town the sun was still bright, not even a hint that something brooded elsewhere.

He sung the song of Grignar the Swift to help hasten his forced march. He knew not what was befalling the village, and had honestly little to tell, but he also knew in his gut that this was no eclipse. He managed a twelve hour march before his body betrayed him, cramping up and pleading for rest. He slumped against the base of a tree and quickly passed out. Eight hours later he was back at it, this time making as excellent time as before. He knew that he would be passing through Goran's territory by now, so upon reaching a small settlement he blew three sharp blasts on his father's horn, simple notes to carry far and wide. He knew Goran would hear them and come to investigate. When the villagers came out to see what the commotion was, Hjarlof spoke to the head man. "I have called to a friend, my lord. He will come here to find out why. Here are three gold coins, please tell the man that comes to meet me at the Ostara festival in Skoljyr. He in a bear of a man with runic scars and white hair" Receiving a somewhat surprised affirmative, Hjarlof was once again on his way, pushing himself to speed up the pace.

Passing through the wilds at speed on roads and off, Hjarlof made it to the Jarl of Skoljyr the day before the festival. He was granted an audience, but not much time or serious attention given the upcoming rights and celebration. Hjarlof feared that would be how it was, but he had done what he could and now his body was done. He found accommodations in a stable, as the festival had filled up the regular inns and taverns. He passed out. His dreams all through the journey and even now we're plagued with shadow, creaping things, eyes in the dark and the repeated voice of the blind Seer, "It has begun."

[Svartalf]

After enjoying some time with her cousin Aud, Blôdarna remembered why she was there, and, after replenishing her horn, went in search of the man Hjarlof that she had been told to look for...

[Xssisha]

Two days before the festival:

Hjarlof fairly staggered into the arms of the Skoljyr gate guard. "I have a message... for your Jarl... from a Seer. Sjoldir calls for aid." He huffed and puffed, we and truly winded by the last leg of the journey. Ushered into an audience with the Lord of the Wolves, Hjarlof told of the tidings and how the sun was darkened. The Jarls men and he chuckled, obviously thinking it adsurd. After all, the Sun's chariot still rode brightly here in the sky, as it had every day since Hjarlof left the little Hamlet.

 

Only one among the Wolves answered the call on behalf of the beleaguered settlement. I suppose the scent of prey has deafened the pack to the plight of its weaker members, Hjarlof thought. He nodded to the warrior woman who had volunteered and followed her out into the main hall. He made his way to the fire and fairly collapsed into a chair. He ached all over from the trip on foot. "My Lady, thank you for answering the call of your kinsmen. All that I spoke is true, Fenris take me if it is not. There is fell things afoot that would be best handled by a Druids Circle I suppose, but what aid I can muster may have to do."