Private Tales Endirinn

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The two of them working in tandem was barely enough, the kelpie's desperate fury a tidal wave of strength that jostled them both as they gripped the net. Skad's two-fingered grip slipped from the slickness of blood, her intact left hand doing all the work as the Nordwiir tried to apply her entire body weight.

She could feel every inch of her mortality, the accumulated aches piling up into a dull roar that begged her to give in.

No, not yet.

Kin-Slayer grunted through grit teeth, the acrid stench of burning flesh tainting the air and renewing her grip as the beast's vigour dimmed, violent protest petering out as, after an eternity, it finally collapsed. Defeated by a fucking net.

As Brenna took on the role of executioner, Skad turned an eye to the other Nordwiir. The woman might have held internal injuries from the trampling of hooves, but she still drew breath. She knew because that chill hadn't left the back of her skull like a grave omen caressing her mind, promising nothing but misery and death.

And right enough, there she was.

Standing there, hunched in the agony of a burst gut and with that shaman's gaze once more fixed upon Brenna as the Nordenfiir brought down the axe upon the Kelpie's considerable neck, hands outstretched and gnarled like the branches of a decrepit tree. Her mouth moved silently, uttering violent Wiir curses stained by the dribble of blood.

Tingling legs carried Skad towards her kin in a deliberate stumble, her left hand swooping to grab the first blade calling for death; a dirk, its point hungering for that final thrust.

The woman didn't move, even when Skad was upon her; the focus on Brenna was not broken. Kin-Slayer's instinct warned her, screeched for her to stop. Why would the shaman not defend herself from the encroaching one-eyed death? She knew something was wrong, but it did little to stop her from advancing.

In one swift motion, Skad drew the other woman into a one-armed embrace, the blade slipping between the Nordwiir's ribs in a practised fashion to pierce vital organs.

A mortal blow.

She knew because she felt it, too.

Her remaining fingers clutched at the shaman's back with a gasp as she pulled out the dirk and dropped it into the tainted snow. The woman held no wound, nor did any crimson pour forth in a death sentence, at least not from her. Skad had found the Nordwiir's gift, the warmth leaving her body as if she had stuck herself instead. Kin-Slayer attempted to stagger backwards, but finally, the shaman's attention was upon her, pulling the warrior into death's embrace, foul lips upon her ear.

<"Bleed for your God, child.">
  • Scared
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Brenna's scream must have echoed off the arena walls with how hard it rattled her chest. She had felt the pressure building once more, had known she would need to turn to face the mage as she severed the kelpies head, but then it had vanished. She'd turned expecting to see Skad with an axe buried in their enemy but instead it had been her Skad injured. Her Skad collapsing to the ground spitting blood. The world felt as though it had been ripped from beneath her feet as that scream tore from her throat, and something in her snapped.

The snarl was more beast than girl but she didn't shift. No she would savour this with her own bare hands. She hurled herself across the space at the mage, taking her out at the waist as she muttered something to her friend. There was a flicker of surprise and then outrage. It was almost a shame her fist ruined the expression as it bore down upon her.
  • Stressed
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It wasn't until the woman released her that Skad realised she was being held upright, legs finally conceding defeat as the snow caught her wounded form.

She knew, morbidly, that the wound was fatal. She didn't need to see the blood pissing out of her to realise it was only a matter of time. Even with her weaker left hand, Kin-Slayer's talent with a knife was mercenary. Perhaps that made it all the more cruel that her efficiency as a killer would be what led to Endirinn. A stab wound from an errant hand could have missed vital organs, but not one from her hand.

A punctured liver, she would bleed out slowly.

It would give her enough time to witness, on hand and knee, her friend succumb to a bestial rage. Her fists hammered into the shaman's face with violent abandon. Not so long ago, the sight would have filled Kin-Slayer with glee to see such a compassionate creature reduced to such brutality. Smug, or perhaps even proud.

Such sentiment evaded her as the thick blows turned wet, and the Nordwiir's face was caved in beyond recognition. In fact, Skad found the sight entirely distressing. It was a terrible sight to see her friend like this.

The woman felt the shaman's curse dissipate, signifying another death in the arena.

Skad crawled over to Brenna with a whimper, painting the winter canvas with crimson before grabbing at one of her companion's thrashing arms in a feeble attempt to stop her rampage.

"...stop now," her copper tongue implored, hoping that the Nordenfiir could see beyond her rage, " must stop."
  • Cthulu Knife
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Tears mingled with the blood spraying her face as her fist drove into that face over and over and over and over. She lost track of time, of awareness, of anything that wasn't her fist and that demon woman's face. She had seen at a glance the wound Skad has taken, had known there was little she could do to help her, but she could avenge her. At some point her arms began to hurt and her hands were ripped and shredded coating her fingers with her own blood as well as that of the mage.

She wasn't aware of Skad reaching her until a gentle hand touched her arm. Brenna flinched and glanced up. Her arm trembled where she held it waiting for another blow but when she looked down she realised why Skad had stopped her. Her stomach rolled and she scrambled backwards off the mage.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I just..." she looked at Skads wound and crawled on her knees to her, hands reaching to help somehow staunch the bleeding. "We'll get you a healer, it'll be okay Skad."
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Folding backwards onto her knees, Skad watched her friend return, her soul not completely consumed by the beast of rage.

She bit her tongue as Brenna's hands, so tainted by violence, pressed against the tide of blood. It would have been like her to ruin such deludedly hopeful sentiment with the grim truth. Instead, her hands joined the Nordenfiir's in slick union, applying impotent pressure. For a moment, she looked down, lost in the sight of gore; what an efra this would have made.

But this would not end until only one remained.

"You will..." Skad began, looking up to seek Brenna's gaze as a thin sheen of sweat glistened upon increasingly pallid flesh, " will still making cake for me, yes?"
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Tears thick and heavy rolled down her cheeks as she nodded.

"Any flavour you like," she promised. Her eyes darted up to the stands and any sign of the fae guards. They were watching, waiting for her to finish the job. One person would leave the pit, that's what Skad had translated for her as they were thrown in here. Think. She had to think. Fae dealt in deals, how could she make one enticing enough to get Skad healed and set free? Promising to go to the King and fight further would do little good, they could do that with or without Skad alive. What did fae like?

"I want to make a deal!" she blurted, voice carrying up. "Save her life, let her go and I'll..." what to give an immortal being who enjoyed using mortals for sport. Who revealed in misfortune, torture and pain. What did she have to give? In the stories what had they always wanted?

"My firstborn child," she blurted. "I will give you the my first born child of my flesh."
  • Stressed
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There were different flavours of cake; how wonderful.

Skad nodded, her clinging grin stained by ever-welling crimson that faded at the sight of Brenna's tears. It was strange to witness such grief reserved for her soul, a soul laden with the blood of atrocities whose demise was destined for raucous celebration. Kin-Slayer was not meant to be missed or mourned, which had always been easy for her to accept.

Such sorrow was difficult.

A hush fell around the arena in the wake of Brenna's outburst, Skad herself stunned by the dire terms that had spilt from her companion's lips.


She reached forward, hands slick with death, to pull the Nordenfiir's face in her direction, Skad's expression drenched in blood and horror, a far cry from the brutal stoicism she had been known for.

" cannot,"
she exclaimed through shallow breath, no longer sure which pain was physical and which stemmed from accursed emotions, "it is not... I am not..."

No answer had yet come on behalf of the fae, such a grim deal being carefully weighed for its worth.

" is too much!"
  • Cry
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It was all she had to give.

She might die in the Kings pits long before she could have a child, or maybe she would have one with a faceless man and learn to not care about it so it did not hurt before she gave it up. Whatever the future held, she would find a way around the deal she made here today. The deal to save a life of a woman... of a friend. Her lips had hardened in determination and it was steel in her eyes that met Skad's pleading ones now. No, she would not back down. Not whilst her life blood was pooling in her hands.

The fae male who had captured them both crunched his way across snow.

"You would give up your child, for this woman?" Brenna couldn't see his lips so she did not hear what he said, something the fae male seemed to recall from their earlier more brutal conversations. With a snarl of disgust he waved his hands and sound, joyous, loud sound flooded into her.

"You would give up your child, for this woman? You would make this bargain?"

Brenna didn't take her eyes off of Skad, new tears spilling down her cheeks as she marvelled at the beauty of hearing. A gift the fae had given because it was inconvenient for him otherwise.

"Yes," she whispered and gently pulled back from Skad to look up. "She must be healed and set free, to a place of her choosing," carefully worded. She had to make sure it was carefully worded. "And you must not hunt her - ever again."

The fae licked his lips, contemplating, thinking. She could see him trying to work out how to twist her words already for his gain and weigh it against the temptation of a human babe to torment from the moment it was born. Gods forgive her.

  • Stressed
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" have..."

What was the weight of an innocent life?

Perhaps Skad should have known, her hands stained by the atrocity of Haraudur's purest sacrifice. Had she been confronted by this only days ago, she would have laughed at such a trivial exchange; it wouldn't have even been considered.

But it was not days ago. It was now, in the shadow of blasphemous reflection and regret.

What was the weight of Kin-Slayer's life?

A wicked gash that marked the world, bleeding merciless black bile that killed all it touched and for what? What purpose had such death served? Were the Dark Gods pleased? Were they ever sated? She had soaked the earth with so much life; doubt was the only thing that now sprouted forth from red soil!

She was not worth Brenna's sacrifice!

The desperation writ plainly across her face said as much.

" have...going mad!"

Her fingers slipped down the Nordenfiir's tearfully determined face, arms growing heavy as quiet fatigue spread throughout the Nordwiir, begging the woman to give in to the release of sleep, to embrace Endirinn. Such fate was slipping away; however, the terms of her own life were now firmly a bargain between Brenna and the fae.

A single word and there was an eruption of pain as shattered bone reset and wounded flesh began to knit itself closed, the fatal damage cruelly mending itself. She bowed forward, forehead driven into the snow as strained grunts left clenched teeth. Her still intact left hand groped blindly for her friend, seeking to grip the other woman for some scant relief. The healing touch of the fae, at least in Skad's experience, seemed locked in a wicked dance with needless suffering.

At the very least, it was a distraction from Brenna's choice.

The passing seconds felt like an eternity, and the door to Endirinn was firmly shut before she could hope to pass through. Skad was still prostrate, heaving from endurance when the fae spoke, evidently ready to move things along.

"Where do you want to be set free?"

Where? There was nowhere to go. Home was a death sentence, and as much as Kin-Slayer had been ready to die, the burden of Brenna's sacrifice now lay squarely upon her own shoulders.

"You must choose."

"...I go free...with Brenna,"
she growled into the ground, her answer obtuse and ultimately useless regarding where. Skad could not leave without her, not now.
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"She won. Her future lies in the Kings Arena," the fae male sneered and hauled Skad to her feet roughly. "You must choose where you wish to go."

Brenna looked down at her blood covered hands. Some of it was hers, but most was a mix of Skad's and the Mages. The mage who she had killed in cold blood. The Kelpie's head she had taken out of pity; the creature had looked at her pleadingly. She knew, deep down, it had wanted to die. The mage... Brenna swallowed and glanced up having missed half the argument between the fae and her friend. She got warily to her feet and swayed a little.

"Live, Skad," she gave her friend a smile. "Live."
  • Dab
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This was Refsingar.

It had to be!

Had she, too, drowned? Dashed against the rocks of southern shores with the rest of her Hæfurkappi, a bloated, forgotten corpse claimed by the sea's embrace? It had to be; there was no way to justify such cruelty.

Hell had stolen her certainty, the world's ideas carefully crafted over thousands of years, passed down through efras twisted by time and voice. The only constant was those Dark Gods, who bestowed their gifts upon them and, in exchange, received tribute. A cruel existence, a harsh existence, but an existence justifiable and tangible nonetheless.

In the eternal crystalline pits, it was warned that an unfathomable manner of torment came to those wandering souls. Skad's doubt was the blade being turned against her flesh, the guilt pouring forth from the open gashes, casting her mind into an abyss that would not forgive and could never forget.

Her lone eye stared at Brenna, unsure if a friend was compelling her to live or if hell was telling her to suffer, face twisting with grief and confusion. This world, it felt so real. The Nordwiir could feel it in the familiar waver of blood loss, the lingering sting of pain and the bite of cold upon her flesh. Would Brenna still exist once she was gone? Or would she cease to be once her torment had been exacted?

<"...there is no place to go,"> she muttered, stare turning glassy as the choice was once again foisted upon her, <"It is does not...">

Kin-Slayer turned to the fae, looking through the creature as if it were a figment of her shattering psyche.

"I go any place. I choose...that you choose."
  • Cry
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The fae's mouth twisted in irritation; clearly he did not enjoy his deals being twisted by anyone other than himself. He was about to open his mouth to say something else when Brenna felt it then. A sudden warmth against her cheek like the caress of a mother. She shuddered to feel something so warm in a place of death such as this but couldn't help the way her eyes briefly closed. When she opened them it was to see the fae male stumbling back.

Brenna looked to Skad with a knitted brow assuming the Nordenwiir to have attempted one last strike to win both their freedoms.

"Don't-" but then the fae screamed as that invisible forced slammed into him and ate up the rest of her words.
  • Scared
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That unseen tender presence also greeted Skad, its warmth jarring as the woman began to unravel into despair, believing that her soul had already been condemned to the frigid depths of Refsingar. So foreign was the sensation that the Nordwiir flinched, unsure if it was some cruel trick designed to lull her into a false sense of security before inflicting unfathomable torment.

The fae was hit, losing his grip upon Kin-Slayer as he staggered backwards in the wake of the invisible force. Skad's eye sought the obscured aggressor but found nothing, the crowd now murmuring with affronted confusion.

Before she could answer Brenna, the force returned with enough strength to send the infernal creature flying backwards. The face of the inexplicable, her mind turned to the Dark Gods. They were here! They had come for their retribution! Refsingar was upon them! She thought to scream but was frozen by terror as the arena surrounding them melted into the void.

Skad managed to wrangle enough of her panicked wits to look for Brenna, her instinct seeking out the other woman, if not for answers, then for some strange comfort.

As she looked to the Nordenfiir, stars began to blink into life above them, the glittering cosmos above their heads unfamiliar and of another realm. The ground began to form beneath their feet, a snowy plain littered with mossy rocks stretching endlessly into the perpetual night. Before they stood a single ancient tree, its trunk having twisted through eternity and gnarled branchest bearing luminous red leaves. It stood clearly as the heart of this strange place.

The air around them was still but bore no chill of frost, the deep scent of copper pervading their senses that felt at odds with the otherworldly tranquillity. The ground beneath their feet hummed as if a chorus of guttural prayers were being chanted miles beneath their feet within the earth. Brenna's attuned senses would not only feel the sound reverberate through her feet, but she would also hear it within this place.


Beneath the tree lay a humanoid figure, not a man nor a woman, entombed within thick crystalline crimson ice that resonated with unfathomable hatred and power beyond the will of mortals, so much so that looking at the figure was enough to breed a sense of deep foreboding.

They would have seen the tree desecrated if they stepped closer. Runes that oozed thick unending blood were marked into the bark like a blade upon flesh. Some of the runes would be familiar symbols of the Dark Gods, at least to Skad, but there were many more, unfamiliar or forgotten.

Closer still, they would have seen the figure's position, upon hand and knee, one hand outstretched towards the tree as if they had been frozen while begging for aid. Notably, the malevolent ice had melted around the outstretched hand, allowing the merest freedom to desperate fingertips.

Not that Kin-Slayer would dare to step closer, as her dread refused to shift. Despite her recent revelations, Skad's religious fervour had been the foundation of her entire being. It had moulded her, made her a despised figure, shunned for fear of a slit throat, not burdened by humanity but never touched by love. To be face-to-face with her reason for living, and one that she had begun to doubt...

...she was insignificant, a writhing maggot before the hungering beaks of the Gods!

The woman collapsed into a trembling prostrate heap, muttering panicked garbled nonsense in Wiir as if in anticipation of divine punishment for her faltering faith.
  • Scared
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Brenna felt... calm.

The fear, the rage, the panic of the past hour in that pit was all swept away as the stars winked to life overhead. That soft presence she had mistaken for Skad seemed to run free in this place, dancing between the branches of the tree and coming back to caress her cheeks. Drying the tears, she realised with a start and brought her own hand up to dab at the wet tracks on her blood covered face. This was no place for tears. Despite the disturbing appearance on the tree before her she knew, in her heart, that her and Skad were safe here.

There was no doubt in her mind it was a God who had interfered in their fate. To begin with she had had a terrible fear Skad had somehow summoned the wrath of her Dark Gods to rain down upon the fae. Even if that had sprung them from the death camp, Brenna was not sure she could have lived with knowing her life was owed to a group who forced their people to sacrifice their own flesh in return for gifts. She had dared to hope it was one of her own Gods - perhaps Säiti, the Mother of War. Or Kilpi, the Protector of the Lost.

But this tree... this tree did not belong to any of the Gods she knew.

Brenna shuddered at the oozing red runes and then tore her gaze away to look at her friend. Gently, she placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

"Skad, we need to go..." though go how she had no idea.
  • Aww
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The heart of the Nordwiir people had always beat in synchroneity with their faith. Every action and subsequent reaction in kind was born from the will of the Dark Gods. Every blessing gifted a mark of divinity upon the soul, intertwining mortal with immortal until Endirinn.

But very few were in true communion with the Dark Gods, and faced with their unknown will, there could only breed fear in their reverence.

That same fear now had reduced Skad to nothing but a muttering heap.

However, for fear to exist, there had to be hope, which could exist in the strangest places, like in a companion's tender touch.

She flinched at first, but the squeeze and sound of Brenna's voice brought her back from the brink of oblivion. Skad's left hand, still intact, reached out to grab hold of the Nordenfiir's own. Touch alone grounded her, allowing the Nordwiir to breathe and perceive the world around them.

This place was not vengeful.

Finally, the one-eyed woman looked up, first to her steadfast friend and then to the realm around them. It was strangely tranquil, even if the sight of rune-marked stones and the weeping crimson of the tree bore the suggestion of grim omens.

"Brenna," she uttered, gaze shifting back to the woman who had saved her life too many times already, "I am..." Skad struggled to find the words, the knowledge of common evading her, the sentiment absent from the Nordwiir existence. Instead, she pulled herself up to her feet and enveloped the shorter woman in a tight hug, burying her face into Brenna's shoulder.

"I am not deserving to have met you."
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The serenity of this place unnerved her. From what little experience she had in the arcane and unnatural, serene was not always pleasant. Serene could mean something darker and deadlier lay beneath and that it merely waited for them to have their guards down. It raised her hackles and she felt the bear roaring to get out - to get away. She tried to remain outwardly calm even as she tried to tug Skad to her feet. When Skad finally did look up and stop her mutterings to whatever deity she thought was behind this, Brenna tensed. There, for just a brief second, was something darker in her friends eyes. She braced herself for a blow of some kind but let out a relieved breath when Skad embraced her - instead of strangling her.

Tentatively she hugged back and marvelled at the rare gift this place gave: sound.

"Don't be silly, everyone deserves at least one friend," Brenna mumbled into the taller woman's chest. With a final pat to the back she tried to pull back. "We really do need to leave, I don't like this place," she whispered the last bit, her eyes darting to the tree.
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Skad disagreed with Brenna's sentiment that everyone deserved one friend but refused to argue; she may have deserved retribution, divine or otherwise, but focusing on newfound guilt would only cripple her further.

Releasing her friend from the invasion of her embrace, the Nordwiir looked around at the unearthly grove, its horizons stretching into infinity. It did not seem like a place they could leave by just walking away, and if this were interference on behalf of the Dark Gods, then the pair would have little say on the matter.

"I do no-"

Kin-Slayer had begun to speak but found her voice stilled by a sudden gentle breeze of whispers that spread through the realm around them. She froze, unsure if the ear or mind heard the strange soothing hush. The words were neither common nor Wiir or Fiirevek, but something that held the weight of time, both primal and ancient.

Despite this, the desire was clear. It beckoned them closer, not intending to inflict harm but pleading for aid instead.

"It might be trick,"
she muttered to her companion, firmly rooted to the spot by fear and paranoia. It wouldn't be beyond the likes of Spotta or Hrekkur to commit such acts of deception, although witnessing such in the flesh was beyond reason. Her lone eye glanced towards Brenna, unsure of the roots of the woman's own faith and how deeply they clung, "Can you still fight?"
  • Nervous
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Brenna shuddered as the whispering wind caressed her skin.

"I will if I need to," she could feel her body's exhaustion. A few days of little to no food, disrupted sleep, and gruelling days of beatings or fighting were beginning to take their toll. She needed to rest and rest soon but her senses would allow her to do no such thing here. Not where everything felt so wrong. So... different. Her senses were telling her that wherever they were it was far from home. Were they even in their world anymore? The idea made her want to throw up. If she had been brought to another Gods realm would her own refuse to bless her again?

She began to tremble.

"Come on," Brenna urged despite her shaking, tugging Skad tentatively to the West away from the tree.
  • Nervous
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She did not need to be told twice, following Brenna away from the tree and the entombed figure beneath, leaving those strange whispers at their back. The Nordwiir trusted the gut of her friend, once having found the woman to be foolish in her actions but now finding confidence instead.

"Will fae be coming for you now?"

A twinge struck her ribs, the Fae-healed wound protesting as they ventured toward an endless horizon. The remnants of probing fingers reached beneath to touch the fresh scar, the lingering pain no doubt a parting gift given their penchant for cruelty.

However, the whispers persisted as they walked away, their tone shifting like the ethereal wind that carried them. It was pleading now, desperation scraping at the back of their minds as the ancient tongue warped, primaeval words taking shape in the form of trade tongue.

Finally, it spoke.

"Brenna. Skad. Help me, please."

A lone voice cut through the hush, that of a woman's, soft yet desperate as it begged for aid. It was not a force that compelled them; no magic would coerce them to turn back. It relied on mercy and empathy, things not easily found within their realm. The Nordwiir's shoulders grew rigid, her lifelong apathy challenged by the plea as her lone eye looked to Brenna and her better nature for their next move.
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Hearing Skad's voice was still a wonder. It was of course hard to shake the habit of watching her lips as she spoke but each time she heard the odd guttural tone there was a jolt of excitement. She just wished she were experiencing it in a nicer place. Music would have been nice, she so missed hearing the sounds of pipes and the voices of her people singing together...

"I... don't know. The fae we made bargains with is dead, that means he cannot track us so easily. But if any of his servants survived... they might blame us for his death and come looking," a part of her wondered if they were behind their transportation to this odd world. It would be like the fae to muddle their senses and hunt them down for sport in a landscape of their own designing. The only thing that made her hesitate was the fact this force had dealt the killing blow to their captor.

"Maybe--" Brenna stopped as a voice called out across the wasteland. For once she didn't look that inclined to help the mysterious woman. Her body tensed as though she thought instead to run as far away from the voice as she could. After a few seconds passed however she let out a sigh and let her shoulders slump.

"It could be another prisoner who got free..." she didn't sound convinced though.
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She caught the resignation in Brenna's shoulders, starkly contrasting with hers. Was it the weight of compassion that caused them to sag so? Skad's brow furrowed, the beginnings of Brenna's justification for helping the voice that already knew their names within this strange realm half-hearted at best.

"No," she replied, turning her head towards the watching tree, "I not thinking it is person."

Skad's choice was obvious; the Nordwiir were naturally paranoid and fearful of divine wrath. The very concept of facing down the transcendent unknown was terrifying. She knew that without Brenna's presence, she would have remained a crumpled heap of mortal dread until death or madness set in.

"I do not mean you harm. Please, don't leave."

Could it read their thoughts?

"We should not..." she began, returning her lone eye to her companion as a pang of once-alien guilt found her gut. Skad realised that she was about to ask Brenna to discard her mercy, that same mercy that had saved Kin-Slayer's life several times over, much to the detriment of the Nordenfiir.

The taller woman sighed, placing both hands on Brenna's shoulders as her head drooped forward in certain defeat.

"...if you are wanting to help, then I will not leave you."
  • Blank
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Brenna looked up into her friends eyes, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Skad seemed to be looking to her to be the moral compass. In a way she had been that for their journey and the Nordenwiir had come far to understand that violence was not always necessary. Perhaps it made her all the more wrong then for the feelings sitting like a poisoned asp in her heart. Unable to look at Skad as she confessed she turned her face away, towards the whispered voice and quietly asked.

"I... I don't want to, is that bad?"
  • Thoughtful
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The remaining finger and thumb upon Skad's right hand reached out to Brenna's cheek, tilting the woman's face away from the sanguine tree and towards her lone mossy gaze.

"You do not having to help all," she spoke honestly, her left hand lingering on the Nordenfiir's shoulder and giving a small, supportive squeeze, "You owe nothing."

They weren't even sure what needed help. For all that they knew, it could have been another trick. Be it the Gods, the fae and whatever else wished to inflict further hardship upon them. If it was real, a genuine plea, then chalk it up to hard luck. Suffering was intertwined with life itself; one more doomed soul was as much as a single drop in a vast sea.

The whispers seemed to hush, dying down to a merest trace of desperation.

"I do not want to. You do not want to. Then we do not."
  • Spoon Cry
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Brenna was so tired.

Physically her body demanded that she lay down and rest, but her mind also called out for relief. She was so very tired of having to always do what was right, what was good, what was expected of her. For once she wanted to turn her back and focus on her own wellbeing. Yet there was a voice inside of her that niggled at her. Guilt, Brenna named it glumly. Even this strange voice that she knew was more likely to be a trap...

But what if it were a test?

"It might be a God..." Brenna cast her eyes around the odd world and wariness crept in. "Though if good or bad, I do not know. But.. what if we fail the test by ignoring them? What if they know the way out?"
  • Thoughtful
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Her fingers tightened, involuntary digging into her friend's shoulder at the very thought. Brenna's notion that it could be a God before them turned her blood to ice. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. It was one thing to deal with the fae, their realm of magical trickery, but at least they could die; mortality was the blade that skinned fear.

Next to Gods? They were nothing.

"Then we are getting fucked with no choice."

It was starting to feel as if the Dark Gods had her bent over a cursed barrel from the moment she had left The Lost Isles. A large part of her still wanted to crumble and let the cursed ground beneath their feet swallow her whole, but something else bubbled within Kin-Slayer.


<"What do you want from us!?">
Skad exclaimed in her native tongue as she whirled around toward the tree and took a step forward, the scars upon her face contorting with the deepening lines of frustration.

  • Blank
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