Private Tales friends on the other side

[Bhan]

"They march, because it is in their blood. They march, because death is all they know."

The snow crisped under his feet as Bhan walked towards the far-away fire.

Here in no man's land, where the shadows ran deep and Gods danced in the moonlight, there was nothing to fear for the Nordwiir. They were due to launch their raids in a few days. This Bhan knew. They'd set fire to the villages to the South, raid and pillage, before bringing back offerings to their dwellings to the North. It would please the Gods.

At least Bhan hoped it would.

He hadn't been invited to this raid party. Strictly speaking, however, he had not... not been invited either. This proved enough for him. He had spend months up North, helping his ailing father as best as he could, but it was time. The Gods whispered this, over and over again. Ivory skin, frost eyes, pale lips in his dreams that promised glory down South. If only he'd bring their names to these lands. Until they were on the tongues of every Southerner. That was all that was required of him.

Is that all? Bhan would think sardonically, perhaps I can devote an Empire to you too while I am at it?

They loved that.

These Gods were not looking for the meek prostrating before them. Shivering and huddled in furs. No, they wanted the bold. The ones whose blood ran hot and who bend for no one. They offered power, but only to those who were strong enough to take it.

"Who goes there?" The thin-reedy voice shook Bhan out of his thoughts. He blinked owlishly, before realizing he had almost crossed the distance between his former self and the camp. The fire was already closer. He could make out the shapes of the sentries. Young men and women. Eager to bleed in service of the old ones and cover themselves in glory.

"Bhan." Bhan responded after a moment's pause. "Valkisson." Added helpfully as an afterthought. In a culture where your ancestors were most important, his was an anomaly. Always his first name first. Life was for the bold and ever since Bhan had been given his second life? He aimed to be twice as bold.

"I come to lend my arms to the struggle, brothers and sisters." He murmured once that silence stretched, smiling as he stepped closer. The blue hues of his runes shone through his thin skins. "Will you have me? I can be a friend."

Skad

 

[Skad]

The Nordwiir were not an inherently trusting kind of people. It wasn't so much out of fear of espionage or betrayal, but rather from the plain truth that the Nordwiir's greatest enemy was in fact, themselves. For so long they had been confined to the frozen tundra of the Lost Isles simply because they couldn't think to slaughter anybody else but themselves.

Such was their way.

Those winds, however, were changing.

As the sentry considered Bhan Valkisson's offer, his weathered features crinkling like frost-bitten paper, a voice cut through his thoughts. It was cold, indifferent yet forceful at the same time, and it came from a woman.

“We don't need a friend.”

Another out on patrol of the camp, she was clad in thick furs and held nought but an axe and a blank one-eyed stare. The other sentry seemed wary, gifting an unseen cautionary glance at the one known as Skad, indicating that perhaps as a person she was not so well-liked and also that she was not the one in charge here.

Kin-Slayer gave him a quick appraisal, her lone eye travelling the length of the newcomer's body, hovering to stop for a moment at the slight glow of the divine that seemed to mark his flesh. Good.

“We need the faithful.”

Head tilted upwards, her judgement now meeting his face.

“Are you faithful, Bhan Valkisson?”

 

[Bhan]

A bright smile brimming of mania and mirth erupted there.

"Faithful?" The laugh began as a chuckle, but soon enough it was the coughing rasping whooping of someone on drugs or worse. "Faithful she asks!" Then he ripped his furs to the sides, revealing rows and rows of bloody runic marks on the skin.

"I breathe only because the Gods will it. The salt and frost lives in my lungs and I exist only to share its tale with all around me!" Bhan declared. Joyful one moment and the very next it was gone. Replaced with a carefully neutral expression. His hands rising up in a peaceful gesture. "I shouldn't- no, a fellow faithful deserves the proper respect."

Bowing there lightly, his shining gaze never leaving her eye.

"I am Bhan Valkisson, God-Praiser, and there is nothing more that I want than to bring our divines' glory to all those that live." A little smile there again. "And maybe to a few that are dead too, if possible."

Someone gasped after that. Bone-Whisperer - they murmured. But it was difficult to say who it had been, the shadows playing tricks on them all, the voice could have been from any one of them. Bhan clapped his hands there, smiling again.

"Yes, yes, that is another name I have earned. May I join your fire? One faithful to another?"

Skad

 

[Skad]

Well, she had asked.

Skad watched his display with that same void of expression, her lack of which was made up for in spades by those who had joined the intrusion. The rest of their Warband was a tale of emotion, ranging from intrigue and wonder, right down to distrust and still yet, suspicion.

As words of Bone-Whisperer began to filter through them the excitement became palpable, his carved flesh was enough testament to believe and the sudden burst of chatter only proved such.

“A sign of fortune!”

“Sent by the Dark Gods themselves!”

Yet Skad remained a vault of closed thoughts and opinions. His flesh bore truth, and yes, the stories of Bone-Whisperer were not completely lost upon her but in matters of men, she liked to see rather than believe.

“You talk too much,” she said plainly.

“Stay your foul tongue, Skad,” the first sentry replied sharply, as if he held fear at thought of dishonouring their new ally, “you are more than welcome here, Bhan Valkisson. Please come, take a place by our fire, our leader will wish to meet you.”

 

[Bhan]

This was not an uncommon reaction to him.

Bhan supposed he had earned it.

Not all could understand what the Gods wanted from him. Some did not want to understand. Skad seemed to be in flesh entirely. Here and now, rather than the flights of spirituality. Those sorts of people were necessary too. Bhan knew this and so Bhan did not make it an issue.

"Our Gods love those of bold tongue and bolder action." He said with a smile, his eyes never leaving Skad. "Don't hold it against her, brother, Skad is a true daughter of our Divines." The declaration came easily to the first scout.

"But I will gladly speak to your leader. I aim to join you South, for Their glory."

He stepped through the circle of watch torches. Responding to greetings with smiles and nods. Until Bhan finally sat down near the fire pit, pulling off his furs entirely, now bare-chested and warming himself on the fire's glow.

"Skad. You say I talk too much. I take it you are a do-er then. Tell me, what have you accomplished for the glory of our Gods?"

Was it a challenge?

A way to make her look like a fool?

It was difficult to judge from his expression. Truthfully, it was neither, no matter how difficult to believe. These were no laughing matters and Bhan was curious the kind of warband the Gods had guided him to.

Was he to learn from them? Guide them? Kill them?

Bhan needed to know.

 

[Skad]

The far more eager scout lead him to the small camp, nodding at the man's words as if he was imparting legendary wisdom from the lips of the Dark Gods themselves. The boost of morale was already evident, and even Skad couldn't deny the importance of such in the desolate wasteland that they called home.

Even greater than the newfound sense of morale was the mirth that suddenly scattered throughout the camp as Bone-Whisperer challenged her own devotion. It gave way to a host of smirks and snorts, further cementing that she was not held in high esteem among them.

Still, from Skad came nothing, her eye staring through the veil of the flame.

“I kill.”

“Your own kind,” came a sudden retort from one of the women, her confidence to say such clearly bolstered by the presence of Bhan.

“And suckling babes,” spat another.

“She is Kin-Slayer.”

The blonde turned to look at him, her stare suggesting nothing but truth to those statements but also feeling little about them either. She had nothing to prove to him, nothing to prove to any around them. It was only those unseen eyes that watched over them, that had chosen and bestowed them with their gifts that mattered.

They always accepted her gifts.

Nothing escaped tribute. Not the helpless innocents, nor the hapless cowards that existed among their ranks, not even her own twin. All were equal, all were wanted and all were taken. Skad's devotion lay in an uncompromising blade that did not weigh blood in measures of honour, for she knew that their thirst was unquenchable.

“Bone-Whisperer, do not waste your time on that one, she holds no honour.”

Interesting how they were all suddenly more vocal, this kind of talk was only relegated to whispers mere moments ago. She would remember that.

“Please, tell us tales of your own glory in the name of the Dark Gods!”

 

[Bhan]

His chin had moved to rest on outstretched hands, while his elbows rested on knees.

Watching, listening, careful considerate and interested.

Innocents, babies, kin, family? What did that matter? If the Dark Gods requested the death of your wife, would you deny them? Would you stand against the Divine? Look me in the eye and tell me you would. And hope our Gods are not listening to your blasphemy.

These are the things that Bhan wanted to say.

Their prattling and concern was insulting. Yet, yet his throat choked up the moment he tried.

No. Inspire strife, insert discord. The strong will rise. The weak will fall. Words are nothing.

He set his jaw, letting thin reedy fingers run through the scrap of remaining hair decorating the front of his scalp, rubbing it gently there. It always hurt when they spoke so clearly. Not coloring intent, but a direct commandment.

This was rare, but it was to be honored thus the more.

"Babies and kind, hm?" He murmured, the smile starting to grow as he refocused his attention on Skad who was still staring at him. "Well, my brothers and sisters faithful, we cannot judge her for this." Noises of confusion, eyes staring at him. How could BHAN out of everyone say such a thing? Was he not ardained in salt and water, drowned and born again? If he said such a thing, where they all WRONG about Skad?

Holy or not, such clashes of established opinions were hard to dispel.

"The Gods send us fitting trials, after all. If they send a baby her path... perhaps it was simply the greatest offering she could handle for them."

It grew still there.

Oh, some cold chuckling right out of view, away out of sight.

But not even those that had just criticized Skad had gone this far.

Bhan simply smiled, warmly, towards Skad. His mind was happy, the Gods were pleased, this was how they had wanted it to go.

How could he ever deny them?

 

[Skad]

Their judgement meant nothing.

In fact, it only solidified the divine truth about those she had marched with. They were not of true faith, not prepared to do what was asked of them for greater purpose. They were cowards who valued their own honour and reputation above hallowed tribute.

It was untrue to say she felt nothing, no, Skad did feel something.

Disgust.

Her face finally moved, an eyebrow raising at the newcomer as he suggested that mere babes were the height of challenge that she was prepared for. Kin-Slayer had never been so publicly humiliated before, so accustomed to this talk being hushed and behind her back rather than served directly to her on a vicious platter.

“I have nothing to prove to any of you.”

A voice broke through the titter of idle scandal, one with more authority than any of the other carrion crows that surrounded the flame. A man, only slightly older than Bone-Whisperer himself who held a face like chopped meat, scars laid upon scars that only served to further muddy mutilated old flesh.

“Ah, not five minutes have passed in camp and you have already left your mark, Bone-Whisperer,” croaked the leader of the Warband with a certain hint of mirth, “you will join us for the night's raid, I assume?”

Better to talk purpose than idle slander.

 

[Bhan]

Skad

A bright smile as Bhan rose up quickly, up up to his feet.

"Ah, Carver, I was hoping I had the right camp." The skald sketched a lazy bow there, while offering a wink to Skad to add injury to insult. "Of course, of course. The Gods guided me here. I had to carve, so to speak, my way through snow and ice and bone to get here."

He gestured towards Skad and the others.

"I am getting to know your fellow warriors. Bold men and women. Ready to do their part in our bloody work. You gathered up fine Nordwiirs for this one." The attitude had entirely shifted, but then, maybe that was to be expected. Carver and him had gone up together back in the day. Of course, the older man had surpassed him in every way.

A warband leader, hundreds of kills under his belt, stories that matched the face that told them.

But Bhan had a soft spot for him.

"Especially this one. Skad. Not a talker, like me..." A smug smirk there, his bare arms separating to the side there as if to present himself. "...but I am keen to see what she can do to a grown man tonight." He breathed in as his head tilted slightly to the side, eyes closing to a flutter.

"It's almost time. Can you feel it?" An undercurrent. Like the beating of drums, but the sound came from inside of them all. All those attuned to the Gods.

A warning-

They were growing restless and hungry.

 

[Skad]

Gods below, he was still talking!

Swaggering like a rutting kaldabatur, all arms, grins and winks, so snug and familiar with the leader of the Warband that they might as well just get it over with and fuck. Ah, he'd actually managed to annoy her. Skad tilted her head, eye piercing the camp flame as she decided that she would leave him until last.

“Ah yes, fine men and women, ready to fight until the last!” Carver exclaimed, eliciting guttural cries from the captive audience, his disfigured lips curling back into a broken-toothed smile. The leader of the Warband leaned into the ear of Bhan, as he gave whisper that evaded the others, “do not be fooled by rumour and heresy, the girl is true,” a throaty chuckle soon followed, “and a vicious little cunt.”

Skad looked up at the charlatan, his latest humiliating comment drawing the slightest flicker of a curl to the edge of her mouth. Oh, he would see.

“It feels like home, brother.”

Carver Thick-Hide was no stranger to the sensation, it was within all true Nordwiir and even with age, it had never dulled. It was that hallowed call that birthed them, moulded them and gave them their gifts. His own was that he did not feel the touch of pain, it had made him a formidable and terrifying foe to his enemies but at the cost of his own flesh. He had no limit, never knew when to stop.

As he prepared the Warband for the upcoming raid, Kin-Slayer chose to take part in her own ritual, it wasn't as if she didn't know how to strike a village at night.

The one-eyed Nordwiir crouched before the fire and took her skinning knife from out of her belt. She turned her left palm upwards, revealing a litany of scars that crisscrossed over the flesh, old and new they were layered one on top of the other.

“Fyrir Haraudur,” Skad muttered, drawing the blade across her palm, “my blood is your blood,” turning her wrist over she made a fist and squeezed, fresh droplets of crimson dotting the snow, “may tonight's tribute fill your vessel and slake your eternal thirst,” now that blood was spilt, she took to smearing the rest over her own face, palm and fingers dragging down the right side of stoic features to leave the trailing print of her hand.

“I am your chosen.”

 

[Bhan]

A grin in response to Carver's warning.

"Oh, I know. Moment I laid my eyes on her, the Gods were happy." A shrug there. "But they want conflict, so I give it to them." There Bhan did pause briefly. Hesitant. This did not occur very often, but here the Skald wasn't sure if what he was about to do was in line with what the Gods wanted.

The moment stretched.

No pain flared up in his skull. They remained silent, which meant they didn't care.

This was good enough for him. Before Carver could pull away, his hand settled on his shoulder, keeping him next to him, before pulling him in slightly closer. His eyes rested on Skad but the words were for Carver, whispered and soft.

"Grow eyes in the back of your skull, old friend. Our Gods want spilled blood. Ours too. Don't interfere, let it happen and you will live. It is all in their glory, trust in their plan." Only then did Bhan let go, before shuffling away from the fire pit. He would not answer any questions. That Bhan knew would be against their wishes. Instead he left the warmth and the company of the raiders.

In the shadows he'd kneel down, before pulling out a skin attached to his belt.

Sea water.

They all had their little rituals.

This was his. His eyes closed as he let the cold of the snow brush against bare knees, against bare chest and sinewy arms. Then he swigged from the sea water, the swig turned into a pour and it wasn't long, before Bhan forced himself to drown all over again.

The shallow drown.

Where eyes burned red and lungs cried for help, but you let yourself balance on that thin edge. Until the Gods said: this is enough for now.

Every time, before battle, Bhan did this. Offering his death to the Gods in thanks for giving him his second breath when he had drowned the first time. For now they were happy with his offerings. Though the man knew that there would come a time where they wouldn't let him go.

As he rose up and rubbed his lips clean from salt and sick his eyes were drawn into a certain direction.

That is where the price will be.

You will hurt. She will do this. Survive, if you can. If you can't? You aren't worthy of us anyway.