The Blood-Price

[Uhtred Wardruna]

Spoiler: Theme

The Blood-Price There was an expression Uhtred has heard before, that thoughts could be heavier than any helm. It had always made him laugh as a child, and even beyond. But in recent years, the young warrior had come to realize just how true the statement was, and never moreso than this day. This day was everything, now. His rebirth, or his death. He would either rise as a Jarl and Battle-Master, or see Svidibein before the setting sun. Everything would be decided would be decided soon. So much could go wrong, there were so many choices that would need to be made now, in this moment and the moments to come. For better or worse, this was his hour.

And there was doubt. Lying would serve no purpose, nor would it benefit him. He had doubts on whether he could succeed. So Uhtred sat alone, in the dark of his cabin onboard the Sceadugenga, allowing his head to hang and his hair to fall and envelop over him. His hand rested on the bed where he sat, tightly gripping his axe. His mother gave the weapon to him, many years ago now. With its point against the metal floor, Uhtred's other hand tightly grasped the hilt of his sword, a beskad, a gift from his father. These weapons were his life. When uncertainty struck, he struck back with them. The only question now was if it would be enough.

ᛒᛖ ᚹᛁᛋᛖ, ᚨᛋ ᚱᚨᛞᛖᚷᚨᛋᛏ… ᛒᛖ ᛏᛖᚱᚱᛁᛒᛚᛖ, ᚨᛋ ᛋᚡᚨᚱᛏᚢᚱ… ᛒᛖ ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱᚨᛒᛚᛖ, ᚨᛋ ᛋᚨᛚᛞᛟᛖᛗ… ᛒᛖ ᛗᛁᚷᚺᛏᚤ, ᚨᛋ ᛃᛟᚱᛞᛁᚾᛖᚤᛞᛁᚱ… ᛒᛖ ᚱᛖᛋᛁᛚᛁᛖᚾᛏ, ᚨᛋ ᚨᚾᛚᛟᚷᚢᚾ… ᛒᛖ ᚠᛁᛖᚱᚲᛖ, ᚨᛋ ᛞᚨᚢᛚᚨᚺᛏᚱ…

"ᛒᚨᛏᛏᛚᛖ-ᛗᚨᛋᛏᛖᚱ?", came a voice.

Uhtred tilted his head upwards and drifted his eyes toward his doorway. Light was cast into his dark room, and the silhouette of a figure stood, staring at him in the darkness.

"ᛁᛏ'ᛋ ᛏᛁᛗᛖ. ᚹᛖ'ᚱᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ."

Uhtred inhaled sharply and let his head fall down again. Then he stood and walked calmly toward his armor, which was set up against the wall of his room.

"Any trouble from the Mandalorians?"

"Um… no? Your clearance was accepted, we're bound for Vetarhold. Or Valthon, whatever it is they're calling this place. Battle-Master, why are we speaking in—"

"—it's a good distraction. Besides, you could use the practice."​

"If you say so. Battle-Master, we shouldn't we have waited for a response? What if he denies you?"

"He won't", Uhtred said simply, sheathing his weapons as he finished donning his armor.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because he's a Wardruna. For us, destiny is all. If he is challenged by an equal, he will answer it.", Uhtred said simply, sheathing his weapons as he finished donning his armor.

"And... if he doesn't?"​

Uhtred turned and grinned darkly. "Then I cut off his head and take his place anyway."

As Uhtred walked down the loading ramp of the Sceadugenga, he finally saw Bandomeer again. It had been years since he'd set foot on this planet. He'd spent half of his life here, growing up. Now, either in victory or defeat, his life as he'd known it would likewise end here.

A gathering of warriors, most of them of Clan Wardruna, were in attendance. Several drums were being beaten, as were some elders among the clan carrying chants into the air from their voices. For the most part, Uhtred hadn't looked at any others as he walked into battle-circle. But of course, he couldn't help notice his uncle, Ysgrámör, and a surge of confidence pulsated through him.

"ᚤᛟᚢ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ, ᛏᛟ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛞᚨᚤ, ᛁ ᛋᛏᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᛁᚾᛞ ᛁᛏ ᚨᛗᚨᛉᛁᚾᚷ ᚺᛟᚹ ᛞᛁᚠᚠᛖᚱᛖᚾᛏ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚨᚱᛖ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᚷᛃᚢᚾ", Uhtred said, stopping a little under two meters away from where his opponent sat. It wasn't a throne, but was obviously a makeshift chair for the occasion. Uhtred hadn't planned on arriving late, and indeed, he figured he was early, if anything. "ᛁᛏ ᚱᛖᚨᛚᛚᚤ ᚺᚨᛋ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᚨ ᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛏᛁᛗᛖ, ᚴᚡᚨᛋᛁᚱ…"

 

[The Storyteller]

There was a law, unspoken and unwritten, but as true as the old gods themselves. It was a law that bound every warrior, from the greater to the lesser, from one age and beyond to the next. The Blood-Price; blood spilt for vindication, either of the challenged or the challenger. For the one who sought power, sought to lead, they would have to put their lives on the line, and in turn, take a life to prove their resolve, their skill, their determination and whether they have the backing of the gods and the ancestors before us.

Most warriors that call themselves Deucalian have paid the Blood-Price at one point or another. To ascend otherwise would be to ascend unproven. It was indeed rare, but it happened… for instance, with Kvasir himself.

Kvasir was not originally the one chosen to lead Clan Wardruna. He had known it, everyone had known it. Gjun Wardruna, or as he was better known, Gjun Greydragon, was the one chosen to lead, the one who had proven himself. But he had refused it, preferring live and fight without obligation or commitment. Almost as a default, it had instead passed to Kvasir uncontested. In turn, Kvasir was in possession of a power he hadn't fought for. Unbloodied, untested, unproven. While obeyed, Kvasir had long known has precarious his position had been since that time, a few years ago. He needed to prove his worthiness, lest he be challenged by an upstart, or worse, another Jarl or Battle-Master seek to force him into submission to their own clan, essentially vassalizing him and Clan Wardruna.

And then, like a gift from Saldoem himself, there came a challenger that was barely even a Deucalian. In fact, he could barely even decide what he was, or if he was even either. But Kvasir had indeed heard of him. Uhtred Wardruna, or Uhtred Stormblade, as he was known now. Kvasir internally sneered at that; most warriors that hold titles only do so because their accomplishments had been accepted by fellow Deucalians. For years, he'd attempted to rename himself as Kvasir Bloodsword, but to say it didn't 'catch on' was an understatement. He was still unproven. Opportunities to take part in battles were passed; he was still regretting not bothering to attend the duel between Jarl Tyr and his daughter, who was now Jarl Eva of Clan Stark. Now, a chance had appeared again, and it would not pass him by. He would not allow it.

"ᛁ ᚹᛟᚢᛚᛞ ᛚᛁᚴᛖ ᛏᛟ ᛏᚺᛁᚾᚴ ᚹᛖ ᚹᛖᚱᛖ ᛋᛁᛗᛁᛚᚨᚱ ᛁᚾ ᛗᚨᚾᚤ ᚹᚨᚤᛋ, ᛒᚢᛏ ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚱᛖ ᚾᛟᛏ ᚹᚱᛟᚾᚷ. ᚹᛖ ᚨᛚᚹᚨᚤᛋ ᚺᚨᛞ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᚡᛖᚱᚤ ᛞᛁᚠᚠᛖᚱᛖᚾᛏ, ᚺᚨᛞᚾ'ᛏ ᚹᛖ? ᛏᚺᛟᚢᚷᚺ ᛒᚤ ᚾᛟᚹ, ᛁ ᛋᚢᛈᛈᛟᛋᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚡᛖ ᛋᛖᛖᚾ ᛗᛟᚱᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚺᛁᛗ ᛏᚺᚨᚾ ᛁ ᚺᚨᚡᛖ", Kvasir said, standing up as he rested his hand on the hilt of his thermal sword, his eldursverd. He never could get fully used to the axe, but the sword and long-dagger, that was his specialty. As were words."ᛒᚢᛏ ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚱᛖ ᚱᛁᚷᚺᛏ. ᛁᛏ ᚺᚨᛋ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᚨ ᛚᛟᚾᚷ ᛏᛁᛗᛖ, ᚢᚺᛏᚱᛖᛞ… ᛋᛏᛟᚱᛗᛒᛚᚨᛞᛖ. ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚨᚱᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛞᛟᛁᚾᚷ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ? ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚡᛖ ᚾᛖᚡᛖᚱ ᛒᛖᛖᚾ ᛟᚾᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚢᛋ ᛒᛖᚠᛟᚱᛖ, ᚾᛟᛏ ᛏᚱᚢᛚᚤ. ᛋᛟ ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚱᛖ ᛈᚱᛖᛏᛖᚾᛞᛁᚾᚷ ᛏᛟ ᛒᛖ ᚾᛟᚹ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᛟᚱ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ? ᛏᛖᛚᛚ ᛗᛖ, ᛏᛖᛚᛚ ᚨᛚᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚢᛋ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ, ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚠᚨᛗᛟᚢᛋ ᛋᛏᛟᚱᛗᛒᛚᚨᛞᛖ ᚹᚨᚾᛏᛋ ᚹᛁᛏᚺ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛞᛖᚢᚲᚨᛚᛁᚨᚾᛋ."

@Killa Ree @Darasuum @Pontus @Zay +any other Deucs I might have missed, if y'all wanted to watch the fight!

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[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

Eva Stark could remember a time that she stood like Wardruna had stood.

Her blade-brother stood before a man that had not the honor of durasteel nor that strength that called for a War-Lord. True, he was strong, and sure in his rights, but he, like most men, talked too much and showed his steel. There were many titters and whispers as the Jarl stood some distance in the crowd.

​

By this point, most knew of her ambition. It was no lie the woman craved to see her brother in arms rise above and claim his birthright... but also as a show of solidarity, she arrived with no escort or protective clansmen. All were bannerwomen, decorated in the colors of her House, but she remained unadorned, wearing as décor only the armband she wore as a signal of her marriage, and the pelt gifted by Darth Valravus, with a heavy black cloak.

She spotted the silver head of Ysgrámör, and the crowd slid aside to permit her entrance. She gave a bow of the head to the man, but her eyes did not leave Uhtred's form. Another time like this, perhaps, he had stood as she did now. And though they were not as kin then, she stood as kin now, ax whetted with the same blood he spilt on the icy plans of Svidibeinan, close to Hall Stark, when her own claim was under attack.

She had witnessed a raider come back to life and called him brother. And now she would watch him claim what, by her mind, was rightfully his.

And if by some twist of malignant fate Uhtred should fail?

She would challenge Kvasir herself. But such thought was unnecessary, he was an honorable and enduring warrior. Even the man beside her knew it to be true.

"ᛏᚹᛟ ᚹᛟᛚᚡᛖᛋ ᛋᛏᚨᚾᛞ, ᛒᚢᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚨᛚᛈᚺᚨ ᚾᛖᚡᛖᚱ ᛒᚨᚱᚴᛋ," she commented wryly as greeting, wishing right now she held a pint of mead instead of an empty hand. She had none of her family with her now... and as of right now, her children would not yet understand the gravity of what honor demanded.

But she did... and she was proud of her kin. When all this was over... she anticipated sharing a pint of some blackout-good drink, and a proper celebration. It was the least she could do, after all.

@Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

ᛒᚤ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚷᛟᛞᛋ, ᛁᛋ ᚺᛖ ᚱᛖᚨᛚᛚᚤ ᛞᛟᛁᚾᚷ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ? Uhtred lamented.

It was a fair thing to say that Uhtred didn't really know what to expect from Kvasir. While kin by clan, they hadn't known each other well, nor had they even seen one another in years. Had he known better, Uhtred would have insisted on jumping right into the fighting, instead of to weather Kvasir's inquiries of debate.

…'ᛞᛖᛒᚨᛏᛖ'…

Uhtred scoffed and gave a contemptuous smile toward Kvasir as he spoke; the only 'debate' worth having was with iron and blood. Words meant nothing now, not in this place; this was just Kvasir attempting to puff himself up in the eyes of others, or perhaps to unnerve Uhtred in some way. Uhtred wasn't quite sure which it was, but in the end, he didn't really care, either. In fact, he was only barely even paying attention to what Kvasir was saying. It was easier just to notice when he'd finally stopped.

"ᚨᚱᛖ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛞᛟᚾᛖ ᛒᚨᚱᚴᛁᚾᚷ?", Uhtred asked simply, pulling out his beskad. from its sheath and the elduröxi.mounted at his back, as he entered into a battle-ready position. "ᛟᚱ ᚲᚨᚾ ᛁ ᚴᛁᛚᛚ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚾᛟᚹ?"

Uhtred wanted to give a wicked grin toward Eva, but he kept his face plain and his eyes forward. Kvasir might not have been as deserving of respect, but the occasion itself was. Besides, it was always fun telling a spoiled arseling to shut his gob.

 

[The Storyteller]

Kvasir's face hadn't been wearing a grin or smile of any sort, but he had been in a place of satisfaction, and he wore it as an indetermible expression on his face. But whatever that expression was, with Uhtred's response, it had ebbed away, replaced by one of restrained irritation.

ᚤᛟᚢ ᚲᛟᚲᚴᚤ ᛁᚱᛟᚾ-ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞᛖᛞ ᛒᚨᛋᛏᚨᚱᛞ

Kvasir mused to himself, albeit not in such a way which would have allowed his face to fully reveal his newfound distaste and disdain for Uhtred.

As he processed it all, it struck Kvasir that Uhtred would obviously be too ignorant of clan politics to know what was even being asked of him, much less being qualified to speak of it. Although a few moments of silence hung in the air, Kvasir maintained his glare into Uhtred's eyes.

"ᚠᛁᚾᛖ, ᛏᚺᛖᚾ ᚹᛖ ᛞᛟ ᛏᚺᛁᛋ ᛁᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᚤᛋ ᛟᚠ ᛟᛚᛞ, ᛒᛖᚾᛖᚨᛏᚺ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛏᚲᚺᚠᚢᛚ ᛖᚤᛖᛋ ᛟᚠ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛞᛟᛟᛗ-ᛒᚱᛁᚾᚷᛖᚱ. ᛁ ᚨᛗ ᚴᚡᚨᛋᛁᚱ, ᛃᚨᚱᛚ ᛟᚠ ᚲᛚᚨᚾ ᚹᚨᚱᛞᚱᚢᚾᚨ", Kvasir said, pulling his eldursverd.from its sheath, as he did likewise with the eldhnif.that was likewise along his waist.

"ᚨᚾᛞ ᛁ ᚨᚲᚲᛖᛈᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚲᚺᚨᛚᛚᛖᚾᚷᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚢᚺᛏᚱᛖᛞ ᛋᛏᛟᚱᛗᛒᛚᚨᛞᛖ."

Without another word, Kvasir charged into the fight as he made the first move. Immediately, Kvasir initiated a forward slash, which would have crossed Uhtred from his right to his left, while on the ready to convert his attack into a lunge if needed.
Kvasir didn't expect his hits to land in earnest, although he didn't need them to anyway. If nothing else, he wanted to have a measure of what he was fighting against, if his opponent was skilled or lacking, if Uhtred's own sword had a superior reach than Kvasir's own, or an inferior one. If he was quicker on his feet, or slower.

While having his thermal dagger at the ready, Kvasir actually preferred using it as a defensive measure or for counterattacking if a melee gets into grappling-range. It wasn't practical for much else, and was too precious to otherwise use as a simple throwing weapon. Besides, by Kvasir's reckoning, this would be a contest largely between their swords, simply because these weapons held the better range in a melee; this was true for Kvasir as much as it was true for Uhtred, too.

If Uhtred would use his sword to block Kvasir's strike during its swipe, Kvasir would counterattack by quickly bring his dagger to the fore and stab at Uhtred's neck, taking advantage of the smaller and easier-to-wield knife over the larger axe in Uhtred's opposite hand. If Uhtred chose instead to evade Kvasir's opening attack, then it would simply become a lunge, with Kvasir not allowing Uhtred a moment of respite to retaliate. However, if Uhtred would instead opt to use his axe to defend himself, then Kvasir could easily escape the range of the sword before Uhtred would be able to counter attack himself.

One way or another, Kvasir would ensure Uhtred would not walk away from this confrontation with his head intact before nightfall.
@Killa Ree

 

[Eva 'Skuld' Stark]

She snorted at Uhtred's comment; apparently he heard her. Which meant his opponent did as well.

Good. She wanted them both to have heard her. Those that wasted their breath on pretty speeches and 'thoughtful' debates clearly did not know they breathed with lungs of a dead man's. Had this been the heat of battle, the Jarl would have been cut down in a scant few minutes. Though his sword seemed a good offensive, she had to admit the form was not one that was not the wisest when in closer combat like with Uhtred's strengths.

Arrogance of the law of birthright had cut down greater men and women before; she herself even knew this, and so did not choose to follow that example. Yet another idea to instill for their people; they were a proud race, but it was dying on trivial claims and territorial squabble. Here was yet another example... and she too used to her advantage this very thing.

But power like this hung in the balance for her people; she was here for support, and watched with a studious eye both attack and defense. Each had their strengths... but there was more to the balance than honor.

@Korvo

 

[Uhtred Wardruna]

ᚱᛖᚨᛚᛚᚤ ᚲᚨᚾᚾᛟᛏ ᚺᛖᛚᛈ ᚤᛟᚢᚱᛋᛖᛚᚠ, ᚲᚨᚾ ᚤᛟᚢ?

Even when it came to him ceasing all the talking, he ceased it through further-talking. It was enough that it almost sent chills down Uhtred's spine at how much Kvasir was reminding him of the bureaucratic sycophants in the Sith Empire. Before this day, Uhtred hadn't thought less of Kvasir. After all, he hadn't known him very well, and at the time Uhtred left on his own, Kvasir's father was still the Jarl. If this man was the best the clan had to offer after Gjun, then Uhtred genuinely felt regret that he had not acted sooner.

As Kvasir came to him, Uhtred rose his own sword to be ready to parry it. Opening attacks were rarely something so simple, they tended to be ways of testing one's opponent. Uhtred had seen this so many times before, and indeed, had done so himself. Backstepping in earnest, the Battle-Master brought himself out of the range of Kvasir's slash, which on its own wasn't overly difficult; Uhtred's opponent was being careful to keep himself at a liberal length.

However, as Kvasir's strike missed, it had immediately transitioned into a lunging maneuver. Acting quickly, Uhtred moved to parry the blow with his beskad, catching metal against metal. Pivoting both swords away, with a push that forced the blades to Uhtred's left and Kvasir's right, Uhtred then rose his right arm and stepped forward to deliver a diagonal overheaded strike with his axe, aiming—if not Kvasir's head—then for his neck or shoulder, intending to cleave the axe's blade through Kvasir's upper torso.

All the while, Uhtred was likewise being cautious to keep himself out of Kvasir's range for his dagger, which was a bit easier for him due to its inferior reach. However, he was still reasonably wary of the fact that it could be used against him faster due to its smaller size and lesser weight, and so Uhtred made sure that he proceeded forward only as much as he needed to.

 

[The Storyteller]

Kvasir was not 'bloodied' as most other warriors around him. He had not the fortune to have fought in battles or earned personal recognition or honor befitting his station. Indeed, part of the reason for him accepting Uhtred's challenge was to change all that, at least to some extent, and to do so against a warrior that did-possess renown. All Kvasir had was training, and to his credit, much of it.

Besides that, war was intensifying between the Sith and the Mandalorians, and alliances were brewing with the Empire. Attacking Mandalorian space, plundering its wealth and treasures? That was his new dream; glory would come, and with a thousand reavers behind him, he would be recognized as a Battle-Master, and then as a Warlord. And perhaps, even something more beyond that...

As was expected in part, Uhtred had responded to Kvasir's attack by back-pedaling. A cowardly move, but one that would see him live a while longer. As was planned, the Jarl struck ahead with a lunge. It was Kvasir's hope that the sudden shift, in conjunction with Uhtred's reversing movement, would unbalance him and take him off-guard enough to deal a powerful blow. However, to his relative surprise, his strike was parried away, and the shadow cast of an axe filled his eyes.

Too great a distance between the two of them for his dagger to be of use, unable to recall his sword to a defensive position to ward off the danger, and too far extended from his lunging attack to retreat quickly enough, Kvasir fell back on his training and pushed himself further in. Using his accumulated forward momentum, Kvasir lifted his opposite leg and projected it ahead of him, launching a powerful kick at Uhtred's chest, putting all of his weight behind it. It wasn't a lethal attack, nor even an ideal one, but it would be a faster strike that Uhtred's axe and would give Kvasir the breathing room he needed to retaliate.

@Killa Ree

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