In the Name of the Father

[Uhtred Wardruna]

In the Name of the Father The trip was quiet. Uhtred normally hated the quiet, but this time he'd almost felt like he couldn't get enough of it. Every time he tried to focus, tried to think, every little noise was like a zakkeg's roar. While the two had communicated with semi-relative frequency, in a liberal interpretation at least, it had been years since Uhtred had seen his father in person.

Xordan, the Alor of Clan Vau. Tradition was in his blood, as was loyalty. In fact, loyalty was always the fiercest description of Clan Vau, so much so that they established and made up most among the ranks of the Jagyalilyr, specialized Mandalorian warriors that hunted down dar'manda for judgement or immediate execution. And Xordan wasn't just their leader, he was a Jagoya'karir without equal.

Although raised as part of both worlds, Uhtred had been given a choice as to who he would belong to. Neither of his parents nor his half-siblings held his choices against him, but Uhtred had always felt that he had disappointed his father due to it. Perhaps not that his father felt betrayed, but cast aside for his mother's people. And now, Uhtred was preparing to become a leader among his people, and from that, there'd be no going back. Not from his mother's world, nor to his father's.

"ᚢᚺᛏᚱᛖᛞ. ᚹᛖ'ᚱᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ", came a familiar voice.

Uhtred still continued staring off as the ship landed and powered down, with Hurod coming to bring him back to the present.

"ᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ, Uhtred said, sighing as he took his time getting up. "ᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ...

As Uhtred walked to the loading ramp of the Sceadugenga, he looked up at the night sky and inhaled. He remembered tasting this air more frequently before, when he was still a boy. And now, as a man, he returns.

"Thank you for coming, sister", Uhtred said, glancing back to his companion. "Is Mandalore as you remembered it?"

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

Eva Stark would have never dreamed setting foot on Mandalore, much less with a fellow Deucalian whom had family ties here. But as Skuld Stark, it was a different story entirely. The last time she had set foot on Mandalore, she had hit on a Mandalorian mountain of a woman(even by her standards) out of sheer desperation, and realized Tagal Saxon knew some of her language.

Ja... much had changed since last she had set foot on Mandalore. But in some ways, little had changed in those few years.

She knew this was important. And when asked, she knew she wanted to go. Between the obligations on Ando Prime, Mustafar, and Ord Cantrell, she needed a break and some time amongst her own people. And Hurod and Uhtred were two such brothers at arms that she could not deny an invitation.

Especially one that altered the life path of a man she now called ally.

She, too, took a deep breath, and sighed. Her helm was tucked under one arm, otherwise fully armored in the traditional Stark colors of light blue, dark grey and some white. And also fully armed; she felt like the more years she spent with the malmhaus, the more he 'gifted' her weapons.

Her eyes scanned the environment, and a slightly wicked smile curled on her lips.

The view around them was far better than any metropolis. If she had not been raised on the bitter blend that was a traditional Deucalian household, she would have appreciated it much sooner. As they slowly descended, her hand remained on the handle of her ax, her own helm slid back over her head. Old habits died hard.

"Ja... better even, without so many people around," she chuckled, her stride tall, proud.

She had a feeling in her bones... this was going to be far more interesting than just any family reunion. With Mandalorians involved, it was never a dull moment. That much, she'd learned all too well.

@Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

Three days. Four nights. That's how long he'd been on the hunt. On the first night, he was ambushed by a pack of strills. By day, a nest of shriek-bats had fancied him their prey, to their peril. The following night, his beskad had broken during an incision into the spine of a boma beast. A storm came and stopped his hunt dead in its tracks for the next day and into the successive night. The morning came and he found the trail again, only to be beset upon by a giant rawl serpent. And so came the fourth night. It would be the last.

Xordan's body armor was covered in moss, mold and algae. From the branch of a tree, he'd waited motionless for six hours, eyes down the scope of his sniping rifle. His ammo was low, and whatever advantage he'd gain from the element of surprise would be for naught if he could not land the strike where it needed to be. But he had found its den, he knew that eventually, it would return, and he would bring back its pelt.

This territory of the northern forests of Mandalore was as close to a sacred place as any for the members of Clan Vau. It was seldom trespassed, and those unwelcome would often find it their grave. But it was no surprise to Xordan Vau when he spotted a ship breaking the atmosphere above the forests, near to his location. Nor was it any surprise when he saw a young man, long of hair, moving through the woodlands. In fact, the young man was expected to have arrived much earlier, but perhaps it would work out for the better, all the same. For these were the hunting grounds of a predator that was not to be trifled with...

"GAAARRROOOOGGHHH!!!"​

A deafening roar shattered the tranquility of the gentle rains as a tarentatek burst onto the scene from a rocky crag, some one hundred meters behind Uhtred and Eva's location. As if possessed, the beast had charged toward the two Deucalians at full speed, pummeling the ground in its wake as it let out a second, viciously fierce roar.

However, before the two Deucalians would be able to respond to the tarentatek beast, a sound like a thundercrack detonated as a large reddish-violet bolt of light ripped through air, into the tarentatek's mouth, and out the back of its neck. The terrible beasts' corpse would fall almost instantly, skidding on the ground before it stopped some fifteen meters before the two Deucalians. Standing upright from the perch of the tree, Xordan stood up erect as he reloaded his sniping rifle.

"Saren", he said simply. It was not a sign of lack of affection, but Xordan was not one for excessive or needless words. "Bal a troan Ni ru hbaih."

Xordan had expected his son, but not the addition of a stranger. Her countenance was strong and he took her as a warrior, but she was not of Clan Vau, nor of any clan he had known well enough to recognize. For all he knew, she wasn't even Mandalorian and couldn't understand his tongue.

"You travel with my son. You are of his kind, or my own?"

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Mandalore was no Onderon, not by any means. But only the foolish would assume that the world which had sired the Mandalorian culture did so without subjecting its people to struggles and trials that hardened them into the warrior people that they became. When Uhtred heard the roar behind him, his memory flashed back to packs of strills that would roam the northern forests, or swarms of shriek-bats. But this roar, it was so strong that Uhtred felt it tremor through the ground and into his armor.

His helmet, which he had been carrying in his arm, dropped to the ground and the Deucalian Battle-Master pulled his elduröxi-and beskad-into his hands, ready in his battle stance and to evade the charging beast. Before he could act, however, a bolt from afar fired from overhead, striking the tarentatek directly in its mouth. The massive beast fell instantly from the attack, dying from the blast. A moment passed where Uhtred simply stared in slight bemusement; it had all happened so suddenly, and ended just as quickly.

Walking closer to it, Uhtred cautiously placed his on the beast's skin, which was almost hot, as he forced its mouth more open. Charred flesh smoked at the back of its throat where the blaster bolt punctured it.

A single shot, targeted at the oropharynax. High intensity rounds..., Uhtred mused, examining the wound. He knew who had made that shot. It was one Uhtred had been trained to do, although without much success.

When Xordan called Uhtred by his Mandalorian name, he immediately turned his attention to the trees, not too far off, where his father stood.

"Father", Uhtred stated back, amused by his father's habits. Uhtred turned back to face the tarentatek as Xordan addressed Eva.

Tarentateks were native to Kashyyyk, not Mandalore. This one must have been brought here while young, then released. Uhtred knew the practice. It was normally done for young warriors of Clan Vau, particularly those that intended to join the Jagyalilyr. To hunt one's own people was a commitment not taken lightly, and in order to help harden younger warriors, they were often given pets to raise, nurture, care for, and even fight alongside in some cases. When the warriors came of age, they were to release the creatures into the northern forests, hunt them, then skin them for their pelts within five nights.

Those that refused were barred entry into the Jagyalilyr, as did those that failed to hunt them down within five nights. It was no small thing to hunt one's former brethren. It took skill and a willingness to hunt and even execute those they might have once called brother or sister. But the fact that so many of Clan Vau's members were also part of the Jagyalilyr was a testament as to how devoted to the sanctity of Mandalorian tradition they were.

Xordan Vau was an older man, initiated long ago, but he maintained the practice for personal reasons. He would never allow himself to be softened. And the hunt helped keep him attuned to that cause.

"It was a female", Uhtred said, standing up as Eva and his father presumably finished speaking. "What was her name?"

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

The moment she had heard a roar, she wheeled about, already reaching for her rifle the moment the tarentatek barreled towards them, when another firing from far away ended it abruptly from running headlong into herself and Uhtred. Honestly, she was hardly surprised, considering what she had learned from Tagal Saxon. Instead, another voice came from behind. It sounded remarkably like Uhtred's… but the timbre was different, slightly deeper in pitch.

A warrior never held her back to another. She turned about instead, and coolly eyed the new arrival. When he eyed her, she gave much the same treatment... but a small smile touched her lips, unseen as she lowered her hand from her rifle guard, tilting her head slightly.

Oh, she understood. Far better than most, actually.

Strange how most seemed to forget that she knew several languages, and was more fluent in most of them than most linguists could boast of. Mando'a was not as complicated as some made it sound... in fact, she loved using it on her partner as much as possible when she could.

But his name was Saren? She gave Uhtred an unseen side glance, curious.

"Ni cuyir be kaysh srukre, a ner jag cuyir solus be gar, a Saxon." It was said with no real preamble, but she was... intrigued. Especially since Uhtred switched to Basic to resume conversation; she would not have minded speaking Mando'a some time longer, it wasn't often she could speak the language without too many serious repercussions. "Eva Stark. But you may have heard another name, Skuld Stark."

@Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

Xordan knew his son was many things. Boisterous, arrogant at times, but with a straightforward heart. 'Nuance' was not a word that described his son, but the older Mandalorian couldn't halt himself from tilting his head to Saren, almost as if examining him. A Deucalian that was bonded to a Mandalorian. It was a fair coincidence, but no; Saren could be clever, but he was far from being that subtly insightful. That wasn't his brand of humor anyways.

"Cuyir gar, jii?", Xordan replied. Some Deucalians still lived among Mandalorians, but that usually resulted in assimilation or division; either one would join the other's culture, or the two would eventually part ways, as it was with himself and Elisif.

But Clan Saxon, that detail was interesting. Saxon was a old name... an old and hated name, once upon a time. Before the era of the First Crusade, Clan Vau had been allied to Clan Kryze, and had a blood-feud with Clan Jendri, who at the time were bannermen to Clan Saxon. Such times were long past, and old rivalries died with them, but there was always a kind of stigma that stuck when hearing the names of old enemies.

As for the woman's name, Eva Stark or Skuld alike, he'd heard neither. Perhaps he'd been away from galactic affairs too long that he did not recognize a name that others believed should be recognized.

"Resanalr", Xordan said, replying to his son's inquiry. Xordan pulled out a wire stuck onto the tree, hidden from sight, and used it to drop down from the high branches. Xordan beckoned the two to follow him, leading them his campsite.

"I found her nine years ago, just before...", Xordan said, pausing before continuing. "She slew my target, and I sought her out. She was difficult to chase down, but she was always drawn to sources of light."

Xordan had led the group to a very basic camp, largely undisturbed, but suitable for someone constantly on the move. Making use of some flint he had in his pouch, the older Mandalorian got a fire going again, and sat down on one of the unused logs.

"It's been a long time, son", Xordan said, staring into the fire, as he removed his helmet to reveal his face. His hair was longer now, more straggled and more fully gray as opposed to its earthen brown. "You've come to say something. Let it be said."

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Uhtred nearly winced at the mention of something that had taken place so long ago. So near to the time of his own crossroads. Perhaps it was intentional, but perhaps not. For better or worse, Xordan wasn't the kind of man to strike at another with words. Knowing his mother, that was probably what attracted her to Xordan in the first place. Uhtred stifled an amused chuckle as he followed his father into the woods, arriving at the campsite.

At first, he stopped and simply stared. Much of Uhtred's time with his father growing up was not in the cities, but in the wilds. There was a time when the two of them made-trashy little camps like these, together. It was nostalgic in a way Uhtred wasn't expecting, especially after Xordan got the fire going.

"It has", Uhtred said in reply to his father's comment, not sure how to begin on his own.

It had been so long since they spoke face to face, Uhtred almost didn't know how to speak to him anymore. Would too much familiarity be resented? Would it be welcomed? Should he be formal? Or be quick to the point? Uhtred's mind raced for those brief moments until his father spoke again, telling him to simply say what he came to say. It was at that time that Uhtred had finally looked up and saw his father's helmet was off.

Uhtred had been staring into the fire to help collect his thoughts that he hadn't noticed. Xordan looked the same, but so much different, too. His hair used to be dark brown, like Uhtred's own, if more greyed. But now, it was grey entirely. His face looked more... tired. Almost weary, but not from age. After all, Xordan was only in his fifties, and Uhtred didn't see old age hampering him any time soon.

"Do you resent it?" Uhtred asked. Simple, short, but Xordan would know his meaning. And it was as good as any place to start.

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

She was not surprised at the lack of response to her statement.

Though, she was reprised of some of Uhtred's parentage, she was hardly surprised. Two warrior cultures that may have been mortal enemies in the past, did not mean she held much ill will any longer. In fact, her brief time spent amongst the Mandalorians brought more clarity to her thoughts, and more consideration into what she brought to the table.

But she did question the wisdom of Uhtred bringing her, of all allies, along. She was Deucalian, and not necessarily blood by right, but by battlefield honor. And this situation seemed more in tune with someone that was blood and family to this stranger that was Xordan of Clan Vau. "Elek. Ni cuyir."

She nodded once to affirm her verbal response. A flash of the white Zakkeg head symbol glinted in the low light, as well as Bita. Despite it being made reminiscent of Deucalian traditional design... there was no mistaking the craftsman's origins. She followed after, giving a glance back to the tarentatek body that laid still in the forest.

...Perhaps sometime she could hunt for such a creature as well. But now was hardly the time. She was surprised the Mandalorian did not take its' pelt outright, however, but directed them to his camp. She gave an unseen glance to Uhtred, then a wary eye about their surroundings. The sounds of the forest pressed around them, with no indication of danger.

So far so good, but even she knew better than to let her guard down simply because they were in camp.

She slowly set herself down adjacent to the two men, silent in contemplation.

It seemed showing his face was important to Uhtred, but she remained passive, electing instead to prop an elbow on her knee. Whatever they decided to discuss, she would not speak unless it was necessary. It would be tactless to speak up, anyhow, when there was nothing really to contribute.

@Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

Xordan looked his son in the eyes in the aftermath of Saren's question. He knew what Saren was asking of him. In fact, it took Xordan back to the time when Saren was but a boy, curious about what he was, as much as he did about who he was. Two families. Two names, even. Two destinies, one at the expense of the other. As a child, Saren would seek both of his parent's approval, become who they wished him to be while with them. With Clan Vau, he was Saren, and with his mother's people, he was Uhtred. With his father, he spoke in Mando'a, but with his mother, his tongue was Deucalic. Then, one day, Saren made his choice; he chose to be Uhtred, to the rest of the galaxy. He chose Clan Wardruna. He chose his mother and her people over his father's.

"Saren, Ni malyasa'yr rejorhaa'ir gar meg Ni rejorhaa'ir gar tion'tuur gar ganar sol'yc eoa a jag. Shekemir gar kar'ta bal gotal'ur gar otahyr. Meh gar taylir gatle at ibac, miak kar'taylir ibac gar malyasa'yr ratiin ganar a giarioa buir", he said said, looking back into the fire. "Gar namaya jatur be gar srukre otahyr, teh miak akay, 'kay va jii, de tionas etid jii. Ra ganar gar bu'cina'gir ratiin cuyir bid oya'namte?"

At that, Xordan looked toward his son's companion.

"You are his shield-sister, no? That is what your people call brothers and sisters-in-arms, isn't it?", he asked, thinking back to his time with Clan Wardruna and Clan Uriksbane when he was still with Elisif. "Tell me, what do you know of my son? What things has he done among... his people?"

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

Even with time, with distance, he and his father had a connection that did not seem rusted with time or distance. Even though it seemed he had chosen his mother's people over his father's, there seemed no resentment held. She often wondered what life had been like had her own mother survived, and perhaps this would be it. There was a cost to pride... her father, the former Jarl of Clan Stark, was a testament to clinging to pride rather than honor.

She would never make that mistake.

When Xordan looked to her and addressed her, icy eyes lifted from the flame. Speaking face to face was more respectful... and more honorable than talking through a helm. He gave them the respect of showing his face... so she would show hers. She carefully removed her own, and her gaze met his squarely, long cable of black hair draping over one shoulder.

"Yes. He fought by my side during a skirmish on Ando Prime very recently, doing honor and credit to his clan. But our first meeting was on Hoth, to discover more about our people. He is a strong warrior, and a steadfast, honorable companion. I trust my back to him. I do not trust it to many, as I am sure you understand. He has also defended against other assaults to his people, and I consider him one of the finest fighters I have had the honor of sharing the battlefield with."

She did not expand much more beyond that; loyalty, strength, wisdom on the battlefield were factors that mattered to her, and they were listed as such. She would not claim to know Uhtred intimately, but he earned her trust by sticking through when most would have abandoned Clan Stark to their own struggles. And Warlord Hurod seemed to favor the young man, which spoke volumes. Warlords did not simply take a liking to just anyone; she knew that well. If he wanted to know more, she wouldn't mind saying more.

@Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

Xordan didn't know what answer the woman with Saren would give, but if nothing else, she gave respect as it was given her. By that merit alone, Xordan was quietly content in her presence there, in what was an otherwise intimate moment between a father and his son. Having raised him, Xordan was well-aware of the kind of man Saren was, but he wanted to hear about him from another's testament.

Xordan listened quietly, not saying a word as Eva spoke. The expression of his face remained unchanged, and his eyes remained fixated on Eva. His son had been busy, that much was clear. But more importantly, there was enough that could be said of him that revealed he held an honorable reputation.

"Gar gasitir ijaa gar pirusti", Xordan finally said after a pause, looking to Saren. "Gar cak kar'taylir meg copad hettir o'r gar kar'ta. Shekemir bic. Rala b'amr ramaanar, Saren. Kyr'amur kaysh, meh gar ganar at... bal rala jag, Uhtred, cuyir jorir."

Of course, Xordan would never stop calling his son by what he saw as his true name. To him, Saren would always be Saren. But it wasn't about him, it was about his son. A man needs his purpose in life clear, and his identity clearer still. Xordan wasn't ignorant, he knew the implications of why Saren had come to him. Whatever it was that he was aspiring to do, it would firmly entrench him in his way of life. No going back. No recanting. There was a sense of finality to it... but it was nothing the older Mandalorian hadn't been prepared for since the time Saren was born. Now, it was Saren's turn to prove himself ready.

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Uhtred felt a pang of pride swell up as Eva declared her approval of him as a fellow warrior and brother. Since he was a boy, he'd struggled with his own identity, finding only limited approval by either side; seen as too Mandalorian by one side, and yet too Deucalian by the other. Outside of his family or childhood friends, Uhtred had seldom received the praise of another. It was... strange, feeling it. Hearing it. It bolstered him at his heart in a way he hadn't expected, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was something that most warriors found normal among their cultures. Fitting, in a way, that the two of them were in many ways outcasts to their own kind.

"La garay. Bal la cuyir e'ne be raona bal ijaa hra'ne ui Ni", Uhtred said, directing a nodding bow of respect toward Eva.

What came next struck a chord with Uhtred. It was a paraphrase of a old Mandalorian tale. 'Kill the child and the warrior will be born'. It was used as a coming of age expression, something that Uhtred was now well past, but... he understood his father's meaning and why he said it.

"O'meh Saren ramaanar bal cuyir digur de sitilhaa, Ni malyasa'yr ratiin partaylir kaysh, Ni malyasa'yr haa'taylir kaysh oyacyir tug'yc, par gar."

Uhtred smiled and stood up, stared at the stars for a moment, and looked to his father. As Xordan gave him a slow nod, Uhtred returned it, unable to hide his grin.

"Don't let his scowl fool you, he has as fiery a heart as a varlwulf that guards the pups within his den", Uhtred said jovially. But now, it was time to go. There was one more stop they had to make before he was ready.

"Come, sister", Uhtred said, grabbing his helmet and proceeding into the woods. "We should leave the huntsman to himself. And... there's one more man I have to see."

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

Her words were actually heeded.

Somehow, that came as such a shock to her. Her own people slightly disregarded her words because of her own outcast station until recent events; her own Clan adjusting to her leadership rather than her own father's. But here was a Mandalorian, a man she should, by all rights, find wishing to be better than... and he judged her words fairly. Her expression was masked, however. She had adapted to being able to obscure most of her personal feeling behind the mask of calm.

She could be level-headed at times.

However, she was also surprised at Uhtred's own deference of her merits versus his. She had never considered herself as above any other in station, considering her rank within her own clan had changed... but it was a beginning.

She inclined her head once towards Xordan, then followed after, black brow perking in a half-smirk at Uhtred's words. "Bringing me to meet the family?" she couldn't resist teasing, a good-natured laugh humming past her lips as her own helm was slid on. It seemed some Mandalorian traits were rubbing off on her; or perhaps, some of that icy exterior was thawing out? Thoughts for another time, perhaps.

"Lead the way, then, brother."

@Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

It was just past dawn. Urdur was a cold world. Not like Hoth. In many ways, not even like Ando Prime, but it was still a world of ice and snow. And wind... a lot of winds, and that more than made up it. But the scenery of it all made it worth it, too. Unlike most arctic worlds, Urdur was just warm and temperate enough to still produce a variety of plant life, including entire spanning forests.

It had been a long, long time since Uhtred had last been here. Even as a youth, Uhtred had spent most of his time on either Mandalore or Bandomeer, with occasional departures alongside his parents. Urdur was one such departure, and normally, Uhtred hated it. One the one hand, going to Urdur meant visiting his Uncle Ysgramor, Jarl of Clan Uriksbane. Many of Uhtred's Uriksbane half-siblings of his mother's side, from her marriage before Uhtred's father, also still lived on Urdur, as opposed to his Wardruna half-siblings who lived on Bandomeer. So Uhtred had deep-rooted family connections.

On the other hand, Uhtred's cousin Rhys also lived here, and that fact alone gave Uhtred enough excuse to not bother visiting. It wasn't always an antagonistic relationship, but Uhtred and Rhys came to hold little love for one another as they grew up. Rhys was the ideal, the perfect son and the kind of warrior that his father always hoped he'd be. Uhtred was the bastardized one, not wholly one of them, and the weaker fighter. But that was a long time ago, and by this point, Uhtred didn't even care about the potential meeting anymore. Now, he was only interested in seeing his uncle.

"ᚹᛖ'ᚱᛖ ᚨᛚᛗᛟᛋᛏ ᛏᚺᛖᚱᛖ. ᚨ ᛋᛖᚾᛏᚱᚤ ᚺᚨᛋ ᛈᚱᛟᛒᚨᛒᛚᚤ ᛋᛈᛟᛏᛏᛖᛞ ᚢᛋ ᛒᚤ ᚾᛟᚹ, ᛋᛟ ᚹᛖ ᛋᚺᛟᚢᛚᛞ ᚺᚨᚡᛖ ᛟᚢᚱ ᚷᚢᛁᛞᛖ ᛋᛟᛟᚾ", Uhtred said to Eva, who was walking alongside him.

It hadn't taken long for Uhtred to be proven right. Within a few minutes, Uhtred heard the growl. An unmistakable growl. A varlwulf's-growl. It had taken a bit longer than expected for them to show themselves. After all, Uhtred was convinced they had been watched for some time now, but for one reason or another, no one had emerged until now.

Uhtred turned to the east, the direction from which he'd heard the varlwulf's growling. The in the light of the sun, Uhtred couldn't make out the rider at first, but he could-see the varlwulf itself... including the red dyed design upon its fur. This was no clan symbolism, but a personal one... one Uhtred recognized, and when he did, his face fell in a combination of disbelief and familiarity.

Her hair was fair, her body tattooed and her hair adorned rather peculiarly for a Deucalian. But then, she always did have a peculiar style, even back when they were children. For a while, Uhtred simply stared at the woman, and she at him, with neither saying a word.

"ᛏᚺᛖ ᛖᚤᛖ-ᛈᚨᛏᚲᚺ, ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛁᛋ ᚾᛖᚹ", Uhtred said, finally breaking the silence. "ᛋᛟ... ᚨᚱᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚾᛟᛏ ᚷᛟᛁᚾᚷ ᛏᛟ ᚹᛖᛚᚲᛟᛗᛖ ᛗᛖ?"

The wind howled and the woman still continued to stare at Uhtred, with a expression that seemed to be a confusion between a sneer and disinterest. Uhtred simply sighed and shrugged.

"ᛖᚡᚨ? ᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᛁᛋ ᛋᛟᛗᛖᛟᚾᛖ ᛁ ᚹᛟᚢᛚᛞ ᛚᛁᚴᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᛗᛖᛖᛏ", Uhtred said, extending his hand. "ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛁᛋ ᛒᚨᛏᛏᛚᛖ-ᛗᚨᛋᛏᛖᚱ ᚷᛖᛁᛚᚹᚤᚾ ᚢᚱᛁᚴᛋᛒᚨᚾᛖ... ᛗᚤ ᛟᛚᛞᛖᚱ ᛋᛁᛋᛏᛖᚱ."

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

For most icy places to visit, she embraced the cold as eagerly as any other Deucalian, relished the feel of icy winds and reveled in the howl of wolves and the roar of large predators. In such harsh climates, Skuld, now Eva, flourished with a smile on her lips and a low hum of excitement thrumming through her veins. There were once legends of berserkirs that could cast off their human shells and become like beasts of predator, like varlwulves… and she sometimes felt that if she could, she would, running through the ice and snow and howling to a thin rail moon.

But now wasn't the case. She could feel eyes on her, as palpable as any touch, as they walked through on foot. She knew that arriving on anything less would not be taken peacefully, but to walk like meager pilgrims was not quite what she had in mind. So when he mentioned them being followed, her bared face tilted to his, one black brow slightly raised in bemusement. "ᛁ ᚺᚨᚡᛖ ᚠᛖᛚᛏ ᛁᛏ ᛋᛁᚾᚲᛖ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛚᚨᛋᛏ ᚱᚨᚡᛁᚾᛖ, ᛒᚱᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ. ᛏᚺᛖᚤ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚨᚱᚱᛁᚡᛖ ᛋᛟᛟᚾ." To punctuate her statement, the low growl floated in the breeze, coming through the veil of near-too bright snowblind.

She tilted her face up to the woman, icy blue eyes noncommittal. There was a definite family resemblance, apart from the hair, but the face, the eye... ja, she could see it, but it was somewhat surprising still he had so much family. Though then again, hers was not divided between cultures; all had ostracized her. He had both sides to deal with... just because he chose Deucalian, did not mean the culture embraced him. It put that perspective in a new light.

She simply inclined her head politely, ever so slightly towards the woman. Even though she was certain she stood a head taller than the woman once she dismounted, the woman had a savagery about her that Skuld enjoyed. Her kind of woman. But older sister, hmm? It seemed Wardruna was never truly short of surprises. For the millionth time, it seemed, she would have questioned her value here... but the mantle of leadership had not truly settled yet. She knew several clans already knew her new position within their culture, but she did not like bragging as though it were earned for divine right.

For her, the only right was with durasteel, and she had earned it thrice over.

"ᛖᚡᚨ ᛋᛏᚨᚱᚴ." This was stated simply, hands away from her weapons, position tall and unflinching. This was a family affair, but she would be damned if she would let any guide cow her or her companion. They were here for an audience... and perhaps new allies. She was known as hún-úlfur for a reason, and they would get what Uhtred needed. She was somewhat briefed, but... family affairs were never her strongest point.

@Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

Family was complicated. Everyone knew that, even people without-family to speak of. But it was those that were actually in those situation that knew it all the most, knew it the best. And Geilwyn's family was more broken than most.

The oldest was Jakar 'Jak' Vau, her elder stepbrother. The rebel and the defiant one, the shame of his father, but Geilwyn did respect him. At least she did, until Jak fell in with some Mandalorian war cult. The last she heard, he was in custody in a supermax prison somewhere.

After him was Naris Vau, her elder stepsister. She and Geilwyn were only months apart, but they never got along, and Geilwyn was relieved when Naris went on to become some kind of huntress. They often competed with one another, and there was never really any peace between them. Their schism contributed to the rift between both sides of the family, until they ultimately split.

Then there was Teyla Uriksbane, Geilwyn's younger sister and the first sibling of her blood. The free-spirited one, idealistic and with an undying sense of adventure. In the end, Teyla became little more than a wandering vagrant, apparently sustaining herself as a freelancer somewhere in the Outer Rim. Geilwyn loved her, but despised her reckless pursuits, and that division never fully healed.

Uhtred had been the youngest of the five, and the only one related to all his siblings by blood, although none of them fully so. Geilwyn had a love for him, but at arm's length; he was of her mother's blood, but he continued to live as one of his father's people, and by that point in her life when Uhtred was born and growing up, Geilwyn had a measure of disdain for Mandalorians, and by proxy, had both a measure of love and disdain for Uhtred.

Geilwyn had known Uhtred was coming, and she honestly didn't know how she'd felt about it. On the one hand, it was a pleasing thing to see family again. On the other hand, when she saw his face, the name 'Saren' came to mind just as often as 'Uhtred' did. She couldn't bear a smile for him, but neither could she truly frown. To her relative surprise, the guest accompanying her brother was one of their own people, but Geil couldn't help but wonder if this was more posturing than the two actually being genuine allies. Eva's name, however, had been somewhat familiar to Geil's ears, but she could not quite recall the circumstances. News was scattered on Urdur, as it was so displaced from Ando Prime, Bandomeer, and other worlds that had Deucalian communities.

Geil gave Eva a nod, then turned to face Uhtred.

"ᚠᛟᛚᛚᛟᚹ", she said simply, riding her varlwulf ahead of the duo. She wasn't sure whether or not to add 'brother' at the end, and ended up not doing so as her speech came. Perhaps that was a mistake, and made her appear colder than she was. But then again, perhaps that didn't matter. Uhtred seldom visited any of his family, and she figured this would be his only appearance for years to come.

Geil would lead the two into the settlement, the majority of whom paid little attention Geil or the visitors, and simply went about their business. It was a far-cry from Ando Prime, where ever clan seemed to be in every other clan's business, all clustered about together and in each other's way, but it was probably more pleasant. Geil led the duo to a building with a great deal of smoke rising out from it. It was a small building. Too small to be a house.

"ᚺᛖ ᛁᛋ ᛁᚾᛋᛁᛞᛖ", Geilwyn said, walking up to the wall of the building, near to the door, and leaning against it. She would wait outside until Uhtred was through, and escort him back once they were done. It was considered a courtesy for guests of the clans not native to the world... but it was someone's idea of a joke to have Geil herself be Uhtred's escort. It was annoying to her, but in a way, Geil also found it a bit comforting... at least Uhtred was eating well enough. He seemed to have gained some weight, and Geil did all she could to suppress a grin from showing on her face.

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Well, this was going about as well as he could have predicted. Uhtred had a rocky relationship with all of his siblings. Jak was an unapologetic arsehole, but to be fair, he was like that to everyone. Naris was snobby and superior, and Uhtred tired of her constantly heckling him to embrace becoming a Mandalorian over a Deucalian. Teyla was kind and even doted on Uhtred, but he always saw her as having her head in the clouds. Geilwyn was who he admired the most, even though he knew she was similar to Naris in that she disliked him for refraining to choose a 'side' for so much of his life. But even if she didn't have any left for him, Uhtred still respected her, all the same. His mother was good to him, to all her children, but Geil did almost as much for him as their mother Elisif did.

Uhtred followed Geil as she beckoned him to, and in short order, they reached the settlement. Uhtred couldn't remember its name, and he didn't ask, nor did Geil speak it. In fact, she really didn't speak much of anything. She always had that quiet, thoughtful persona down, but now she was borderline stoic to him. It wasn't like her, but Uhtred chose not to say anything more. At least for the time being.

Eventually, Geil brought them to a building. It wasn't their uncle's house, that much was clear. But it was-his favorite place. The forge. Uhtred's uncle was a weaponer, among other things. This was his place to think, to be at peace, to speak and discuss things with others. It was nostalgic; Uhtred as a child used to come here to hear stories about the Andar, what his people now called the 'old gods'. He would hear the stories about Jordineydir the World-Eater, Saldoem the wolf of the mists that judges all, and Svartur, the burning eagle that consumes the unworthy dead in undying flames. There were times, Uhtred thought his uncle would have made a good skald, were it not for his terrible singing voice.

At that, Uhtred opened the door to the building. It was dimly lit, and very, very warm. A haze of smoke filled the air, but it was tolerable. A man, with gray hair and a long beard hammered a sheet of metal that glowed as bright as any lightsaber that Uhtred had seen before.

"ᚢᚾᚲᛚᛖ ᚤᛋᚷᚱᚨᛗᛟᚱ", Uhtred said, unable to quell the smile to his face. "ᚤᛟᚢ ᚺᚨᚡᛖ ᚷᛟᛏᛏᛖᚾ ᚠᚨᛏᛏᛖᚱ!"

@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

Like most families, they all seemed to have their problems, differences and difficulties. Yet Clan Wardruna and Uriksbane seemed to get along long enough to not be at each others' throats. Skuld could appreciate the sentiment; though Stark was close to Thorite, it wasn't what one would call a warm relationship, especially since one considered the bloody beginnings of Stark's new Jarl. Most of Thorite and Alemanii were wary around Eva, as though whatever bad luck that once followed her like a cloak would rub off on them. But on this settlement, Eva felt calm.

Geilwyn seemed distant, but that was the way it was. Skuld was no closer to most of her kin than even Uhtred seemed to be, the grand exception being her younger sister Inara and her husband Skalvard, both of whom were embracing people by nature, and by far the least traditional.

As they strode through, Skuld noted many things. Out here, the clan compound seemed much more open than the guarded walls of Clan Stark, less likely to be attacked possibly. There was the quiet busyness that came with daily living; not all of them were marauders and bloodthirsty mercenaries.

Some just wanted a quiet life as free men. Thralls or not, they all had a voice here it seemed.

Seeing Uhtred smile was not a common occurrence, and she found herself fighting a grin as well. She once more tilted her head to Geilwyn before following the tracks of Uhtred; perhaps it was not common practice here, but she was not about to wait in the ice and snow while being eyeballed like the latest piece of jerky on display. She had some measure of pride.

She inclined her head, pressing her fist over her chest to his uncle with her left hand, her right pulling off her helm simultaneously so that they could meet eye to eye.

However, she knew her presence was secondary. There was no need for grand announcement or demand of respect just yet; this seemed like a hearty family reunion, and she would wait out to see what happened next.

That being said, she was surprisingly at ease. Being in a forge was a small comfort, at least, to being in a grand hall or clan's longhouse. Something to adjust to, perhaps.

@Korvo

 

[The Storyteller]

Warlord Ysgrámör, the Wolf of Urdur, had been many things in his life. He'd been a raider for the Clan Thorite of the House of Radegast, a freelancer under the Old Empire before its collapse, the leader of a mercenary army, and now... a simple metallurgist. Oh he was still the Jarl of Clan Uriksbane, an old warrior and veteran of enough battles to earn the respect of those around him, but from his perspective, all that he had seen in his years was the slow and painful death of his people.

More than many others, Ysgrámör held a bitterness at heart for the plight his people faced, and their unwillingness to stop it. Indeed, it was for this reason that he so favored his youngest son, Rhŷs. Of course, Ysgrámör had other children, but his relationships with them were... complicated, at best. In the end, both sides ceased trying to make amends for old wounds made decades ago. A kind of surrogate child to him, however, was the son of his younger sister Elisif, who had previously married into Clan Wardruna. Uhtred's father was not of their kind, and in turn, Ysgrámör himself had become something of a father figure to him, with regards to the Decualians.

"ᛒᛖᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᚠᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᚨᚾ ᛚᚨᛉᚤ, ᛒᛟᚤ", the old warlord said, displaying a gentle smile. His voice was tired, even weary. In fact, it surprised even Ysgrámör at that time. His voice was always deep, and it still was, but it felt... not weaker, but as if it were somehow spent.

"ᛗᛟᛋᛏ ᚠᛟᛚᚴ ᛈᚱᛖᚠᛖᚱ ᛏᛟ ᚢᛋᛖ ᛗᚨᚲᚺᛁᚾᛖᛋ ᛏᛟ ᛞᛟ ᛏᚺᛖᛁᚱ ᚹᛟᚱᚴ ᚠᛟᚱ ᛏᚺᛖᛗ, ᛒᚢᛏ ᚹᚺᛖᚾ ᛁᛏ ᚲᛟᛗᛖᛋ ᛏᛟ ᛈᛖᚱᛋᛟᚾᚨᛚ ᚹᛖᚨᛈᛟᚾᛋ... ᛁᛏ ᚾᛖᛖᛞᛋ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛏᛟᚢᚲᚺ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛟᚾᛚᚤ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛚᛁᚡᛁᚾᚷ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚷᚱᚨᚾᛏ ᛁᛏ", he said, noticing that Uhtred did not enter with his sister, but a stranger. "ᛚᚨᛋᛋ, ᛈᚢᛚᛚ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛩᚢᛖᚾᚲᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᛏᚨᚾᚴ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᚹᚨᚤ."

With a pair of tongs, the old warlord readjusted the position of some metal he had been hammering. The rod of was particularly bright, and much denser than its appearance might have otherwise let on. After adjusting it, Ysgrámör handed the large tongs off to Uhtred, nodding his head at the glowing metal.

"ᛗᚨᚴᛖ ᚤᛟᚢᚱᛋᛖᛚᚠ ᚢᛋᛖᚠᚢᛚ ᛚᚨᛞ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᛏᛖᛚᛚ ᛗᛖ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᛒᚱᛁᚾᚷᛋ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛟᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᚠᚨᚱ."

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Uhtred's smile withered somewhat when he saw his uncle's face. Years had passed, this was true, but Uhtred hadn't expected Ysgrámör to look so much... older. It wasn't just the grays of his head and beard, his voice, his eyes, everything about him looked more weary than just a decade ago. It was even worse than what Uhtred had seen when he looked upon the face of his father. But all the same, Uhtred didn't want to betray his surprise. His uncle did much for his people, and didn't deserve such an appraisal.

Besides, there was still his uncle's 'humor' to appreciate. Uhtred was sarcastic and jovial, or at least, was so in the past. His uncle, not so much, but out of love for his nephew, he often attempted to return the humor. Anyone could tell it wasn't his forte, but Ysgrámör's somewhat stoic attempts were actually quite humorous in their own right, and a smile wore its way to Uhtred's face yet again.

"ᛏᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᚨᚱᛖ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛗᚨᚾᚤ ᚹᛖᚨᛈᛟᚾᛋ ᚹᛟᚱᛏᚺ ᛒᛖᛁᚾᚷ ᚲᚱᛖᚨᛏᛖᛞ ᛒᚤ ᚨ ᛒᛚᚨᚲᚴᛋᛗᛁᛏᚺ", Uhtred said, matter-of-factually. It was true; most weapons that weren't passed down were just bought off the common market. This meant it was actually quite rare for any Deucalians to have personal weapons made for them. Uhtred was an exception, albeit an unworthy one, due to both parents (and his mother, successfully) attempting to sway his heart during his boyhood. "ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚲᚨᚾ ᛏᛖᛚᛚ ᚨᛚᚱᛖᚨᛞᚤ ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛁᛋ ᚾᛟᛏ ᛒᛖᛋᚴᚨᚱ."

Nonetheless, Uhtred took the metal tongs his uncle handed to him and clasped onto the rod of metal tightly, keeping it held in place. Meanwhile, Uhtred likewise watched as his uncle dropped his smaller hammer and picked up a much larger one... and Uhtred would be lying if that didn't make him feel nervous. Ysgrámör might have been an older man now, but he still had the mountains of muscle one would expect from a warlord. With both arms raised high, the old warrior brought the large mallet down onto the rod of metal, erupting in a dazzling array of sparks as the impurities were beaten from it.

The shock was tremendous, and one after another, Ysgrámör continued hammering away. But to Uhtred's surprise, as he looked down at the rod, its shape had only changed marginally from what it had been in before. And it was in that moment that Uhtred realized just how long his uncle must have been working the metal rod to get it to the point that it was at already; it must have been days, perhaps weeks of work. And if this was a personal weapon, that meant he would eventually engrave runes and adorn the weapon, in addition to quenching, grinding and sharpening the blade. It honestly made Uhtred wonder just how much work his own father put into making his sword.

"ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᛚᛖᚨᚡᛁᚾᚷ ᛋᛟᛟᚾ...", Uhtred said, now accustomed to the mallet's strikes. "ᛏᛟ ᛋᛖᛖ ᚷᛃᚢᚾ'ᛋ ᚤᛟᚾᚷᛖᚱ ᛒᚱᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱ."

That was one way to put it, after all.

@Killa Ree