A Debt

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

​

​

​

​

En Route to Ando Prime​

​

The Hawkeye​

​

14:32​

​

-Theme-​

Ando Prime. The last time she had been there with Tagal, it had not ended well. She was a nervous wreck, sick with dread and prepared for the worst. When she had received the summons unexpectedly from her Father, of all people.. she was wary. Her life was finally a success. She was chief engineer of a growing, strong company. She had her family, and though there were mistakes made and terrible things happened, she survived.

And through it all, there was her companion. She knew he didn't have to come along... but she would prefer no other to fight by her side.

She was remarkably calm, clear-headed. She was prepared this time, and she knew why she was being called here. The implications within his brief message were understood... but it was a shock.

Looked like all her hard work... all her effort.. still wasn't enough.

It never could be, could it? One last time, she had to prove herself. One last time, she had to show once and for all that he tried breaking her spirit, and failed. Tyr Stark was never an untrustworthy man... but she questioned now why he would summon her back here to challenge him. But she would.

She had yet to don her helmet; instead, icy blue eyes were unfocused in some thought, until when she finally glanced back... she smiled.

It was the first genuine smile since getting the summons... aimed at the one man she genuinely trusted her back to in a fight, and respected wholeheartedly in the galaxy.

"Thank you for coming malmhaus… I admit, you might be the first Mando to see this." Even though the last time she had fought her father had ended in defeat, she had to admit she was stronger now. Confident.

They were getting closer... but still had some time before they were allowed into planetary space. She took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders with a bitter smile.

"I'm ready. Just let him try again."

​

@Nefieslab

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Spoiler: Theme

To say tension was in the air while on Ando Prime was like stating that ice was cold.

In spite of the war-rest between the Deucalian Clans, an armistice that induced a cease-fire in the civil war, it was an incredulous claim to call it 'peace'. There were literally centuries of bad blood between hundreds of families, enmities between warriors that have lasted their entire lifetimes. There never wasn't tension here... but today, it was different.

While he didn't forsake it, Uhtred had largely made it a point to never spend too much time on Ando Prime. It was toxic there, and had a tendency to infect those living there too long with the same asinine bitterness. And in many ways, it was bitterness that had called for the occasion that was drawing so much attention now.

Most clans preferred keeping their affairs as their own business, so Uhtred hadn't known the details, but he had heard of a warrior of Clan Stark that had been ostracized some time ago, and yet now was being summoned back.

"ᚱᚢᛗᛟᚱ ᚢᛈᛟᚾ ᚱᚢᛗᛟᚱ. ᚹᚨᚱᛚᛟᚱᛞ ᚺᚢᚱᛟᛞ, ᚺᚨᛞ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚺᛖᚨᚱᛞ ᚨᚾᚤᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ?", Uhtred said, walking with the Deucalian Warlord.

"ᛁ'ᛗ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛋᚢᚱᛈᚱᛁᛋᛖᛞ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚺᚨᛞᚾ'ᛏ ᚴᚾᛟᚹᚾ. ᚤᛟᚢ ᚹᛖᚱᛖᚾ'ᛏ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ; ᚾᛖᛁᛏᚺᛖᚱ ᚹᚨᛋ ᛁ. ᛒᚢᛏ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚨᚾ ᛟᛚᛞ ᚨᛚᛚᚤ ᛁᚾ ᚲᛚᚨᚾ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ-ᚺᚨᛁᚱ ᛏᛖᛚᛚᛋ ᛗᛖ, ᛏᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᚹᚨᛋ ᚨ ᛏᚱᛁᚨᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚺᛟᛚᛗᚷᚨᚾᚷ ᚹᛁᛏᚺᛁᚾ ᚲᛚᚨᚾ ᛋᛏᚨᚱᚴ. ᛃᚨᚱᛚ ᛏᚤᚱ ᚴᛖᛈᛏ ᚺᛁᛋ ᛈᛚᚨᚲᛖ, ᛏᚺᛖ ᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ ᚹᚨᛋ ᚲᚨᛋᛏ ᛟᚢᛏ."

"ᚨ ᛃᚨᚱᛚ ᛋᚢᛗᛗᛟᚾᛁᚾᚷ ᚨ ᛒᛖᚱᛋᚨᚱᚴ? ᛁᛋᛋᚢᛁᚾᚷ ᚨ ᚲᚺᚨᛚᛚᛖᚾᚷᛖ?", Uhtred said, walking with the Deucalian Warlord.

"ᛁ ᛞᛟᚾ'ᛏ ᚢᚾᛞᛖᚱᛋᛏᚨᚾᛞ ᛁᛏ ᛖᛁᛏᚺᛖᚱ", Warlord Hurod said plainly, looking down to Uhtred to visibly express his mutual bemusement, before drinking Deucalian mead from a curved horn. "ᛒᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚨᛈᛈᛟᛁᚾᛏᛖᛞ ᛏᛁᛗᛖ ᛁᛋ ᚲᛚᛟᛋᛖ. ᛈᛖᚱᚺᚨᛈᛋ ᚹᛖ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚾᛖᛖᛞ ᚾᛟᛏ ᚹᛟᚾᛞᛖᚱ ᛗᚢᚲᚺ ᛚᛟᚾᚷᛖᚱ."

Drums were being played, beaten in forceful rhythm of an ushering song. A few, mostly those elder in age, sung in quiet, guttural tones. It was a song Uhtred didn't recognize, and mused that it was perhaps something that had developed on Ando Prime since it had been inhabited by the Deucalians, or else was something unique to Clan Stark.

"ᚹᛖ ᛋᚺᚨᛚᛚ ᛋᛖᛖ", Uhtred finally said in response to the Warlord, looking up at the skies in conjunction with many others, awaiting the arrival of the challenged.

@Killa Ree @Nefieslab

 

[Tagal Saxon]

Well it was time to dip his toes back into the politics of Ice-brained idiots.

And why did it remind him of home on Mandalore more than just a little bit eh? He supposed that all warrior peoples were a certain kind of idiot. He was sharpening his blade as they were coming in to land and he knew that Skuld was nervous. She hadn't put her helmet on so he was able to see her emotions play across her face easily enough.

Looking out at Ando Prime as they neared it, Tagal hummed a little bit.

"Seen one daughter beat her father to a bloody pulp you seen them all." he joked with a little smirk before reaching up and flicking her nose, "Get your shite together and kick his arse."

Their ship landed and Tagal walked ahead of Skuld.

The ramp opened and Tagal addressed the assembled people.

"ᛈᛖᛟᛈᛚᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨᚾᛞᛟ ᛈᚱᛁᛗᛖ - ᛏᚺᛖ ᚲᚺᚨᛚᛚᛖᚾᚷᛖᚱ ᚨᚱᚱᛁᚡᛖᛋ."

He had finally gotten better at their bloody language.

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

She was ready.

Everything was sharpening to a keen point now. There was no hailing call, no welcome. There would be no tender reunions... and there would be no kind words spoken. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath in. She smirked when he flicked her nose, ducking her head to the side slightly and leaning forwards to gently bump foreheads with him, icy eyes glinting with old humor. "You know I will, Tagal," she spoke quietly. Bìta was strapped to her side, along with her Elduröxi, her blades... her armor.

Repaired, almost gleaming. The symbol of a Zakkeg head displayed, along with one of a wampa head... and the symbol of Clan Stark on her left shoulder, icy blue against the grey of durasteel.

Long black hair was braided back tightly according to clan tradition; long blue lines streaked down from forehead, over eyes, down her cheeks. Her face settled into a cold mask, and she squared her shoulders.

The ramp lowered... to a scene that she had not anticipated.

Seems her father wanted witnesses this time. To kill her once and for all... and leave nothing to dishonor.

She slammed the doors open to the drums pounding like a second heartbeat in her chest.

She could feel the rage bubbling inside her chest along with the pounding drums. Her sisters and brother, their families. Other clans were there as well; Warlords and Jarls who came to witness a homecoming. All turned to face her... and she began to walk.

Her fists clenched into her blade and ax, her eyes focused on one person only.

He sat upon a stone throne, which sat on a dias. His copper hair was streaked with white. And like his daughter, he was adorned in symbols... but the armor was not the Vikingr style that his daughter wore. All could see the facial resemblance; they shared the same eyes.

Strapped to his side was an ax that resembled her own.

He slowly stood as she approached.

She did not bow; she did not bend a knee.

Instead, she stood before him as the hall went quiet. The drums ceased... but she lifted her ax, meeting his eyes square on.

"ᛗᚤ ᛃᚨᚱᛚ. ᛗᚤ ᚠᚨᛏᚺᛖᚱ."

Some exclaimed voices tittered in the background, but neither of them paid any attention. Her voice rang out, hard, cold, jaw clenched as she let her contained rage ring like the ice that howled outside.

"ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟᛟᚴ ᛗᚤ ᚲᚺᛁᛚᛞᚱᛖᚾ. ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟᛟᚴ ᛗᚤ ᚺᛟᚢᛋᛖ. ᛗᚤ ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱ. ᛗᚤ ᚺᚢᛋᛒᚨᚾᛞ ᛞᛁᛖᛞ ᛒᛖᚲᚨᚢᛋᛖ ᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛋ ᚨ ᚠᛟᛟᛚ. ᛒᚢᛏ ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛞᛖᚨᛞ.ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᚠᛟᚱ ᛗᚤ ᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ ᛏᛟ ᚱᚢᛚᛖ ᛁᚾ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᛋᛏᛖᚨᛞ. ᚠᛟᚱ ᚨᛚᛚ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚺᚨᚡᛖ ᛏᚨᚴᛖᚾ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛗᛖ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᛟᚱ ᛗᚤ ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱ. ᛗᚤ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ."

She paused, watching his expression. She took a deep breath... and her next words echoed, watching him flinch slightly with some satisfaction.

"ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᛖᚡᚨ ᛋᛏᚨᚱᚴ, ᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᛏᛟ ᚲᛚᚨᛁᛗ ᛗᚤ ᛏᛁᛏᛚᛖ ᚨᛋ ᛃᚨᚱᛚ. ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚲᚺᚨᛚᛚᛖᚾᚷᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᚨ ᛏᚱᛁᚨᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚺᛟᛚᛗᚷᚨᚾᚷ."

@Nefieslab @Korvo

@Darasuum

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

The drums still beat, as the ship broke the atmosphere, descending over the assembly, most voices became silent. Uhtred hadn't seen where he came from, but by the time he looked back to the crowds pushing in on him, he noticed that it was not simply the stumbling of traffic of peoples, but that people were making way for someone. Someone important. No one announced who he was; they didn't have to. Tyr, Jarl of Clan Stark, took a seat on a stone-carved throne and... waited. Not a glance to any other man or woman, not a word to the crowds, or even to those of distinction.

As the ship landed, anticipation filled the air. In truth, Uhtred didn't know what to expect. But from the ship had emerged a man. Murmurs came from some, and a small few even visibly shook their heads as a warrior walked down the ship's ramp in Beskar'gam. In a challenge among Deucalians, the first to emerge wasn't even of their kind, but was a Mandalorian. Uhtred's voice was silent, but he had to laugh to himself. Rarely did one show audacity like this... but that wasn't even the most surprising thing. What silenced the murmuring was the voice that came from the Mandalorian; a voice that spoke Deucalic. His accent was heavy, but there wasn't anyone that wouldn't have understood him.

Even then, the display was only a sideshow to the arrival of the challenger. She was fairly tall in form, with black hair and armor adorned with symbols. If there was ever any doubt, any question as to who she was, the symbol of Clan Stark on her shoulder shed silenced it all. Most trials of leadership challenges within Deucalian clans happened within the immediate family, and given the strong resemblance between the woman who had just arrived and Jarl Tyr, it seemed that the tradition still held true.

"ᛞᛟ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚱᛖᚲᛟᚷᚾᛁᛉᛖ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛟᚾᛖ?", Uhtred asked quietly to Warlord Hurod.

Hurod exhaled slowly before speaking, keeping his eye on Skuld Stark as he likewise quietly addressed Uhtred. "ᚱᛖᚲᛟᚷᚾᛁᛉᛖ ᚺᛖᚱ, ᚾᛟ. ᛒᚢᛏ ᛁ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ ᛟᚠ ᚺᛖᚱ. ᛗᛟᛋᛏ ᛟᚢᛏᚲᚨᛋᛏ ᚲᛚᚨᚾᛋ ᚴᛖᛖᛈ ᚨ ᚲᛚᛟᛋᛖ ᛖᚤᛖ ᛟᚾ ᛖᛪᛁᛚᛖᛞ ᚹᚨᚱᚱᛁᛟᚱᛋ ᚨᛋ ᛈᛟᛏᛖᚾᛏᛁᚨᛚ ᚱᛖᚲᚱᚢᛁᛏᛋ. ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛟᚾᛖ ᛁᛋ ᛏᚤᚱ'ᛋ ᛞᚨᚢᚷᚺᛏᛖᚱ. ᛋᚺᛖ ᛁᛋ ᚲᚨᛚᛚᛖᛞ ᛋᚴᚢᛚᛞ, ᛁᚠ ᛁ'ᛗ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛗᛁᛋᛏᚨᚴᛖᚾ."

And as the drums stopped and the woman spoke, Uhtred steadily pushed through the crowds to the front for a better view, accompanied by Hurod. If nothing else, the woman, Skuld was defiant. The Jarl was the head of the clan. Even Warlords traditionally bowed to them, if belonging to their family. It was a position where honor was due by compulsion, by the right of them possessing it. But the woman neither knelt nor even tilted her head. That was an insult no one could have missed... nor was the woman's undaunted declaration.

"ᛁ ᚷᚢᛖᛋᛋ ᚾᛟᚹ ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚱᛖ ᛗᛁᛋᛏᚨᚴᛖᚾ", Uhtred said in response to the woman's reclamation of her original name, Eva. Meanwhile, Hurod took another swig of his drinking horn, and watched with acute interest.

"ᚨ ᚲᛚᚨᛁᛗ ᛗᛖᚨᚾᛋ ᚾᛟᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᚹᛁᛏᚺᛟᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛈᛟᚹᛖᚱ ᛏᛟ ᛏᚨᚴᛖ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᛁᛋ ᚤᛟᚢᚱᛋ. ᛁᚠ ᚺᛖᚱ ᛞᛖᛋᛁᚱᛖ ᛁᛋ ᚺᛖᚱ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚺᛖᚱ ᚠᛟᚱᛗᛖᚱ ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱ, ᛁᛏ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᛟᚾᛚᚤ ᛗᚨᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᛁᚠ ᛋᚺᛖ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚨᚲᛏᚢᚨᛚᛚᚤ ᛋᛖᛁᛉᛖ ᛁᛏ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᚺᛁᛗ. ᛋᚺᛖ ᛗᚢᛋᛏ ᛗᚨᚴᛖ ᚺᛁᛗ ᛈᚨᚤ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛈᚱᛁᚲᛖ, ᛏᚺᛖ ᛟᚾᛚᚤ ᛟᚾᛖ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛗᚨᛏᛏᛖᚱᛋ."

Uhtred exhaled softly as he nodded his head in agreement. A claim meant nothing unless one had the strength to take it. And in her case, there was only one method. "...ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ-ᛈᚱᛁᚲᛖ."

"ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ-ᛈᚱᛁᚲᛖ."

@Nefieslab @Killa Ree

 

[Tagal Saxon]

The people of Ando Prime were out in force to see the challenge be issued but they were all here, really, to see the actual result of the challenge. If the Jarl turned down the challenge then he would be seen as a coward and he would be deposed almost immediately. If the Jarl spoke back and Skuld backed down then she would likely be executed without so much as a by-your-leave even.

But what the people were really here for was the blood price.

The third option that meant that father and daughter would meet each other in a clash of blades and blood until one of them was proven 'right' and 'just' in their cause by virtue of being the one with the martial skill to prove it in battle. Tagal knew it was the only way so he spoke up.

"ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ ᛈᚱᛁᚲᛖ. ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ ᛋᛈᛁᛚᛚᛖᛞ ᛏᛟ ᛈᚱᛟᚡᛖ ᚹᚺᛟ ᛁᛋ ᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ ᛒᛖᚠᛟᚱᛖ ᚷᛟᛞᛋ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛗᚨᚾ!"

He pointed to the Jarl.

"ᚨᚲᚲᛖᛈᛏ ᛁᛏ ᛟᚱ ᛒᛖ ᛋᚺᚨᛗᛖᛞ, ᛟᛚᛞ ᛗᚨᚾ."

Turning to Skuld, he patted the sword he had forged for her, Bita.

"ᛚᛖᛏ ᛁᛏ ᛒᛁᛏᛖ ᚺᛁᛋ ᛒᛚᚨᚲᚴᛖᚾᛖᛞ ᚺᛖᚨᚱᛏ."

He nodded to her once before stepping over to the sidelines.

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

For a few beats, the only sounds were the faint murmurs of the crowd that had pressed around and within the hall of Clan Stark. Made in ambition of the Alemanii branch-off generations past, many Starks lived, died, and were burned here. Many were initiated... many were mourned. One of which was Frigga Stark, her mother.

For a moment, Tyr Stark saw his wife's face... and felt sick rage burn at the pit of his stomach.

She was meant to be dead. Both of them, staring at him with that same face. How dare she challenge him, when he summoned her. She did not bend a knee, nor bow in respect. Such a slight had brought lesser people to the bowels of Hel's domain from his ax. But the blight of Stark had dared raise her mother's weapon to him, dared to not bow and dared to meet his eyes.

If it was a challenge she wanted, it was a challenge she would receive.

For a moment, he realized another had spoken. Icy eyes glared at this... Mandalorian... with utter contempt flickering in that pale, frigid gaze. Then back to Skuld. He did not miss how this boy seemed familiar with his debt-daughter. Interesting.

Even though he was speaking out of turn, at least she had allied herself with a male that wasn't entirely useless. Unlike her first one, he had some spine.

"ᛏᚺᛖ ᛋᛏᚱᛟᚾᚷᛖᛋᛏ ᛋᚺᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛋ ᛋᛖᛖᛁᚾᚷ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᚺᛟᚢᛋᛖ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᛏᛟ ᛚᛖᛋᛋᛖᚱ ᚺᚨᚾᛞᛋ." His gaze flicked back to hers, and he scowled, slowly stepping down. Thick fingers curled into the handle of his ax as he came closer, until they were staring face to face. He held a good four inches over her, but she still met his gaze.

His voice was low, equally harsh as he spoke, but it carried well in the hall.

"ᛁ ᚨᚲᚲᛖᛈᛏ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᚲᚺᚨᛚᛚᛖᚾᚷᛖ... ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚾᚨᛗᛖ ᛁᛏ ᚹᛁᛏᚺ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ ᛈᚱᛁᚲᛖ. ᚹᛖ ᛏᚱᛁᚨᛚ ᛁᚾ ᛏᛖᚾ ᛗᛁᚾᚢᛏᛖᛋ; ᛒᛖ ᛈᚱᛖᛈᚨᚱᛖᛞ, ᛋᚴᚢᛚᛞ ᛋᛏᚨᚱᚴ."

He did not break eye contact. He strode past her, out the hall, into the howling winds beyond. The ring was to be heated; they would fight without armor, with nothing but the weapons they chose. Many would witness the fall of Skuld Stark. It was a shame though...

She was so strong. Just like her mother.

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

The Blood-Price.

The one thing that demanded full honor repaid, the one thing that would truly restore Skuld Stark as Eva Stark.

No. Eva Stark was only a name; it held no more meaning to her. But it held meaning to him.

Silence ticked on in the hall of Stark. A few murmurs rose in the silence as Jarl and berserker met eye to eye, neither flinching. But hearing Tagal Saxon's words...

Kark.

She had his approval. His support... and the support of those that knew her claim as leader. She would still be Skuld Stark, chief engineer, but this was more than a reclamation of rights. She wanted to be amongst the living again. She wanted to be acknowledged once more, and she wanted the Deucalians to remember why they called her the She-Wolf.

And he would feel the bite of her blade.

She met his gaze head on, her voice equally low in pitch, but it too carried.

"ᛁ ᚨᚲᚲᛖᛈᛏ." She felt him brush past her, his shoulder not skimming hers as heavy footfalls clipped past. Despite the burning ache of rage searing her chest, aching in her lungs... she also felt something else that felt equally shocking.

Calm.

She was utterly cool. As she too turned, her eyes met that of another Deucalian. She did not know him much; she knew there were Deucalians that didn't remain tied to Ando Prime. Like her, the stars were theirs to carve their mark upon the galaxy. But she knew him by name. Uhtred Wardruna. It was only a second, but her attention slid away, skimming over her sisters' shocked and stony expressions. None were happy with any outcome; and then there he was.

She wanted nothing more in that moment to grab him by the arm and drag him with her to her own preparation room to have him all to herself... when he declared the Blood Price, she felt a surge of intense pride. Ja, he was somewhat crazy... but he understood. And that made a world of difference.

Like her Jarl before her, Skuld strode out the steps into the icy winds.

She remembered the way. She knew what was going to happen next... but she also knew she might not survive. In either way, she was prepared.

The wolf came back... this time, with her own pack.

@Nefieslab @Korvo @Darasuum

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Quiet talking erupted again, scattered murmurs throughout the crowds. Some dispersed, others congregated as they held hushed discussions among themselves. Uhtred had folded his arms and raised a brow over his eye. His clan still lived on Bandomeer, so he had no kinfolk around him, in that sense.

"ᛏᛖᚾ ᛗᛁᚾᚢᛏᛖᛋ ᛏᚺᛖᚾ. ᛋᛟ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚾᛟᚹ?", Uhtred said, glancing up at the much taller fellow to his side.

"ᚹᛖ ᚹᚨᛁᛏ. ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚺᚨᛈᛈᛖᚾᛋ ᚾᛖᛪᛏ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛒᛖ ᚢᛈ ᛏᛟ ᚢᛋ, ᛒᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛏᚹᛟ ᛟᚠ ᛏᚺᛖᛗ", Hurod said, turning around to leave. "ᛋᚺᛖ ᚾᛖᛖᛞᛋ ᛏᛟ ᛒᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ."

Uhtred had turned to see Hurod leave, but he didn't need to ask of whom the warlord was speaking. A wry scoff came, in a poor attempt to conceal his own dissatisfaction. Maven, Jarl of Clan Orosii. An honorable and respected warrior and leader by all accounts, but it just so happened that she and Uhtred held a mutual dislike for one another.


"ᛒᚱᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ, ᛁᛋ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᚱᛖᚨᛚᛚᚤ ᚾᛖᚲᛖᛋᛋᚨᚱᚤ?"

"ᛁᛏ ᛁᛋ, ᚢᚺᛏᚱᛖᛞ", Hurod said, pausing and turning toward Uhtred before leaving again to find his Jarl. "ᚲᛟᚾᛋᛁᛞᛖᚱ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᛗᚨᚤ ᚺᚨᛈᛈᛖᚾ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ. ᛏᚺᛖ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚨ ᛃᚨᚱᛚ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚱᛁᛋᛁᚾᚷ ᛟᚠ ᚨᚾᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ ᛁᚾ ᚺᛁᛋ ᛈᛚᚨᚲᛖ? ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛁᛋ ᚾᛟ ᛋᛗᚨᛚᛚ ᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ."

Uhtred knew the answer, he knew it was appropriate that Jarl Maven be in attendance. Moots were usually held in the election and designating of Jarls, or clan elders in their place, were commonly the witnesses who validated the worthiness and strength of the Jarl, either in defending their position, or in claiming it through honorable combat. If a Trial of Holmgang was to be held, then it was all-too understandable that there'd be a rush by various clans that were present on Ando Prime proper to find their Jarls so that they could bear witness.

Uhtred grinned subtly as he stared off, in contemplation of the things transpiring around him. He had plans of his own... and in that regard, it was perhaps fitting that the current Jarl of Clan Wardruna was not present. After all, what purpose would it serve when that position would only be his temporarily? Dismissing the amusing thoughts, Uhtred looked back to the challenger, who for the time being was still called Skuld. Narrowing his eyes, Uhtred couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity from her, as if he'd seen her before. Perhaps he had. But if she were to emerge victorious today, then it would be from this day onward that her name would truly matter... or just the opposite, should she fall.

@Darasuum @Killa Ree @Nefieslab

 

[Tagal Saxon]

As someone from outside of their culture, Tagal wasn’t really sure what the deal was with all the posturing. There was an awful lot of measuring sticks and stone and it was getting to be a bit dull if he was honest. He was the kind of man who wanted blood if he was promised blood!

Naturally he knew that Skuld was going to be the one getting the kill so he had no reservations in letting his bloodlust seep out a little bit. One thing he would do however was move away from her side for the time being. Standing beside her was always going to be the norm on a metaphorical level but sometimes she needed to stand on her own both metaphorically and physically.

She wouldn’t gain strength and respect with him stood beside her all the way – she needed to take these steps, make these gains, herself.

Moving away from Skuld, he moved into the crowd so that he could still see it as it all went down. Approaching a group of ice-brains, he nodded to two of them stood idling around. He nodded to Uhtred and his friend before pulling out a small fistful of credits.

“Thousand credits on the woman coming out the winner.” He declared in the basic tongue, “Who wants in on this betting?”

Wasn’t gambling when the outcome was already certain.

@Killa Ree @Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

​

So Skuld had dared to show her face on Ando Prime again.

He remembered the first time he heard the news of her husband's dishonor. A dishonor from a man he once trusted, would have given his title to. A man his daughter chose from all other eligible Deucalians, proper warriors. The man she chose was intelligent, strong... but under steel skin beat the heart of a weak, spineless man. And that weakness was in the veins of his grandchildren. Their mother was shattered by his betrayal more than his death, but she refused to acknowledge her husband's shame.

She still burned his corpse, rather than left it to be torn apart by varlwulves. She still permitted him entrance to drink with other, better warriors.

For what?

Love.

She had no concept. The girl was senseless, blind... an arrogant little fool.

He strode into the bardagahringur preparation chamber. It was last time here, he decided to spare her life.

He would not make that mistake again. He was going to kill it once and for all.

He stripped off his armor, carefully setting it aside. Iska, a longtime Thrall of his wife's. One of the few things he allowed of hers that still remained within House Stark. He briefly closed his eyes as she pulled his hair back, braiding it tightly.

He could hear the drums.

The voices.

The heavy wood of the old shield was as familiar as his own arm; he slowly buckled on Ísblóði around his waist, gritting his teeth.

On the other side of that building was a cancer that refused to die. He would cut it out once and for all, and let the Mandalorian watch.

He refused to let her succeed. She was too weak.

He slowly stepped out, standing tall. The cold air bit into his skin, but his attention wasn't on these mild discomforts. but instead on the other side of the arena. He leapt in to the pit, waiting. She would appear soon... and he would relish the fight once more.

Was the Mandalorian... taking bets?!

The worst of it was, some were shuffling forward to place chips in. He scowled, fists clenching.

When he was through with Skuld, he would relish throwing that insulting boy out to a wampa cave and letting him rot.

Slowly, voices began chanting.

It was time. A savage smile touched his lips... and then she appeared.

Their eyes met. He wasn't going to let another moment of weakness cut him under again. She would perish.

And he would rest in peace, knowing their lineage would not be tempered with spinelessness like other clans. Stark would always prevail.

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

She retired to the other room. She could hear the voices around her, many strains she didn't recognize. Several that she hadn't heard in years... some of which she'd never met. No Thralls waited on her. No kinsmen were let inside. The room was as cell-like as she remembered it last time. Cold light filtered through as she slowly shed her own armor.

She could feel the anger bubbling still in her chest. It physically hurt to hold back every emotion that bubbled to the surface.

He took away everything. He cut her off from all she had built with her own life, and even took her name.

She would relish watching him die with her blade in his heart.

She wore nothing more than a black tank top, pants, boots and the shield and ax. Bita was still strapped to her hip. The old shield was perhaps even the same one she held those years ago... how little it weighed now.

She strode out when the voices began to chant her name.

Not Skuld.

Eva.

That felt damned good. After so many years, she expected to be shamed out of Ando Prime. But her Jarl summoned her back, when she was content with her life. When she had finally put it all behind her, he had summoned her back and brought back all the terrible things that she had buried deep inside. For a moment, her eyes rested on her mechanical arm... yet another mark of her foolish pride. Its' fist clenched as she gritted her teeth, red slowly misting in her vision.

He wanted to get rid of the shame in their family. She was more than happy to oblige.

When she strode through, everything faded away. Tagal, the Jarls of several clans large and small, Warlords and Thralls and even her siblings... they all faded to nothingness. It was just him. The man that left her for dead, that threatened her with the lives of her children. It never was enough, was it?

She watched him pace for a beat. She could hear her own breathing in her chest, her own heartbeat. Her hand clenched tighter against her ax, and she leapt in too.

They paced back and forth. Soon, the horns would sound, and they would begin.

When it did, the drums ceased once more. Silence reigned, as the pair of them circled around each other warily. She heard his own breathing as well as her own; each waiting for an opening.

He saw one, and with a grunted roar lunged forward, ax sailing towards her head.

She barely got her shield up in time, but it bit deep, and she grunted in response, shoving back. As he would be forced to stumble back, she would press forward, using her shield to push while swinging towards his thighs.

@Nefieslab @Korvo @Darasuum

 

[Tagal Saxon]

Tagal leaned forwards slightly as the battle began.

Skuld hadn't immediately come out on top but that was never going to happen. Combat was a back and forth, a dance that was done until one managed to out-last the other in so many cases. Sometimes there was nothing to a battle, sometimes it was over so quickly because the gap in skill was just so vast.

This was not the case right now.

Instead it seemed that Skuld and her father (who's name Tagal had never bothered to really learn since 'future corpse' fit better in his opinion) were close enough in skill that there was actually going to be a contest. He chewed on a piece of jerky he had purchased, brooding as he watched on.

@Korvo @Killa Ree

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

The crowds were dispersing, migrating away to a bardagahringur, in the local proving grounds. Normally, these were arenas for training so that raiders could hone their skills as individuals. After all, even when numerous, Deucalians never fought as a true army, so much as they did as a raiding horde. Most of their fighting strength came from the strongest warriors taking the lead.

However, it was not unheard of for the proving grounds to be used as a stage for honor-duels. This was one such case, and people knew it. Uhtred had stayed around for a bit, as did some others, but before he left, the Mandalorian present had approached some among the crowds and presented them with credits and an offer of a bet.

At first, the majority of the Deucalians still present simply stared at the Tagal, and by Uhtred's reckoning, he couldn't tell if they were surprised, offended, considering, or all of the above. A dozen or more looked at one, then another, then another after that, and like clockwork, all grinned wickedly before turning back to Tagal again.

A single Deucalian stepped forward, and pulled out a small durasteel container from a pouch along his waist that was full of credits. "Put down real money, járnblóð", he said, in his heavily-accented Basic.

As if a signal, several other Deucalians rushed in with handfuls of credits; some betting on Jarl Tyr, others on Skuld. Uhtred simply walked away, but not before laughing aloud at the scene. It was incredible the kind of things that drew people from other cultures together. Sometimes it was good food and drink, other times it was a common enemy. Today? It was gambling.

Some things never change.

The fighting ring was as bustling as any market. Shoving through crowds, Uhtred made his way to the arena where the fight was to take place. Some known faces were there already; Warlord Hurod, together with Jarl Maven, who Uhtred could not help but sneer at in dissatisfaction, albeit from a distance. And there were more; Warlords Kalf and Urud, twin brothers of Clan Svear, together their mother, Jarl Eowyn; Jarl Magnus of Clan Borgg; Jarl Sverke of Clan Shor, and his niece, Battle Master Geilwyn, among several more. Uhtred didn't even recognize them all, but most were likely locals in the area.

Cheers echoed out as the fight began and progressed, but Uhtred simply watched in anticipation. Attack, deflect, defend, counter-attack and attack again. It was like the killing-dances of the Echani that Uhtred had heard about, but more visceral. More... real. And he loved it.

@Killa Ree @Nefieslab

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

That's when he saw it.

A flash of mechanics; it seemed she had lost her arm sometime between when she left until now; though it was covered by her shield, it was a weakness to be exploited. Something that, if worked correctly, would be to his advantage...

As he stumbled, he barely managed the swing of her ax in time. He grunted again, twisting the blade out with a savage yank. But instead of swinging about to catch at her weapon side, he drove forward. His shield slammed with hers, and there was a sudden groaning crack of wood as both caught. She had braced herself against the assault, but there was a whine of gear and mechanic sinew against him bearing his weight to her shield.

She still shoved back, her momentum from the swing down and across cutting up, towards his midsection. He leapt back, and the dance continued.

It went on for another thirty minutes, none surrendering to the other. Sweat beaded and poured down, shields were cast. He still moved, but not as easily as before. She still defended, but she was finding it harder and harder to stop his advancing his swings towards her shoulder. Both had had close calls and glancing blows, and blood from both slicked over their skin, slowly dripping to the floor. Neither gave another a moment's respite; each clash was met with a block or counter, but Tyr was gaining the upper hand.

When their axes locked again, he shoved forwards, this time with his shoulder.

The weight, combined with her slowly beginning exhaustion, drove her to her knees.

When she slumped, he hefted his ax high. He intended to cleave her to nothing once and for all.

The moment he began to shift his weight forward, to drive his ax down into her skull, she struck.

Ax met the meaty flesh of his thigh with a sickeningly wet thmp.

He bellowed and toppled over, his own momentum working against him.

As he slumped over to his back, he had expected her to swing back and strike him in the back. But when he rolled over, it was not her ax at his throat.

It was her blade at his heart. Their eyes were locked... and she did not smile. He finally felt the ice in the air biting into his skin, the restless crowd around them. And Tyr realized something terrible. This was his daughter, his proud-born. How much he had shamed her. But it was too late for regrets, now.

"By the Gods, Jarl Tyr, declare me worthy!" She snarled, pressing the blade's tip into his flesh. A bead of blood rose from it, streaking down his side.

Silence reigned, and then his voice echoed out. Cold, proud... and with a savage smile.

"All debts repaid... Eva Stark is worthy."

She knew he was going to lunge up to strike.

Something struck true; for a moment, Skuld stared straight up into his eyes, not once flinching, as Bita drove deep into his chest. His arm faltered, and then the weapon faltered, fell, but her blade remained embedded. She drove him back down, watching as he stumbled, then fell.

He did not rise again. Jarl Tyr was no longer. A new leader of Clan Stark was there instead... and now, their old leader could rest at long last.

But... the danger wasn't over yet.

Far off in the distance, a new enemy stirred.

This time, its' sights were aimed at the distracted hall of Clan Stark.

It was only when she watched the light die in her father's eyes, when she glanced up at Tagal.

She was about to say something... but something shook the ground. Her gaze widened, and she frowned at him, fists clenching into her blade. They both knew the sound.

Gunfire. Her first task to prove herself a worthy leader... and it had to be raiders.
/End Thread

@Korvo @Nefieslab