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Post by Nyte on Jun 1, 2019 23:08:28 GMT -5
The day had almost become monotonous as they went on. Answers became the same and Varmod felt himself fall into a routine of smiles and general politeness. The weather was holding and they were nearly 3/4ths of the way through the town when Azariah gripped on to his arm. He paused and looked down as she began to cough and he saw the bright red touch the white snow at her feet. She had seemed tired, but he had simply thought she hadn't fully recovered from their travel and restless sleep. When he saw the dark hair man step into sight though he tightened his jaw and clinched his fist. He wanted to grab the man and force him to heal Azariah, but as he reached for Loki his hands only caught a bit of smoke left behind in the god's wake. "Damn you!" He cursed and turned back to Azariah to scoop her up once more and carried her through the snow as quickly as he could till he reached a house on the edge of the city. He kicked the door twice and it swung open to reveal an elder woman with gray hair and dozens of trinkets adorning her frail body.
"She's been poisoned by Loki." Varmod told the woman as he barged inside and set Azariah on a small bed in the center of the room. "Heal her, Mag." He said in an almost pleading tone.
"More trouble, Varmod?" The woman asked in an almost irritated tone but quickly closed the door and crossed the floor to look down at Azariah. "I'll need your feather." She told him and he quickly reached under Azariah's head to slip it out of her locks then handed it to the woman.
"You gave her the feather?" She asked in a bit of a surprised tone then quickly threw the feather into a mortar, along with a couple of roots from a car on a nearby table and crushed them into a fine powder before pouring them into a cup with a bit of warm water. "Drink this child, quickly now." She said and held the cup out to Azariah.
Varmod helped hold Azariah in a upright position and continued to curse Loki beneath his breath. How he hated the gods meddling in his life. Were there none who didn't hate them for what they were?
"Pray we got this to her in time. If not.." The old woman said.
"Do not finish those words." Varmod told her and gave her a challenging glare.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 1, 2019 23:37:25 GMT -5
Azariah choked as he lifted her, she moved in his arms weakly. It felt as though she was drowning as they rushed through the town. “I….can’t...breathe...” She pleaded as her body seemed to grow weaker, her lips had turned a purplish color and her skin had grown pale. As she lay upon the table she turned to the side and blood leaked from her mouth as she coughed. She tried to sit up as Varmond moved to hold her. Drinking down the liquid was a feat in its own. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against Varmond. “I’m...so...tired...” Her voice was small, her breathing was slow and shallow with a crackling sound that could be heard. The poison that Loki gave her was far more potent than anything he needed to kill a fragile human, and yet he’d dosed her with something that could easily injure a god.
“Take her home, Varmond.” The old woman gave a weak smile. “If we did not get the remedy in her in time...” She paused, she knew he didn’t want her to say it. “You should allow her to rest, be at her side...” The woman didn’t seem too hopeful.
Azariah’s head was lulled to the side, she’d fallen unconscious against Varmond’s chest.
**
“Child.” A woman’s voice spoke. “Azariah.” The voice sounded as though it was miles away, it echoed and bounced off of bare walls it seemed. Azariah’s eyes fluttered open. She found herself gazing to the ceiling, one that felt familiar and yet she didn’t know it at all. She groaned slightly, her body burned. “Shh child, do not speak.” A cool finger was felt against Azariah’s lips. Her vision began to clear and the woman that came into view had long dark locks, she wore a beautiful dress with a red cape over her shoulders. She had a tiara that wrapped over her forehead and wings jutted from the sides. “Loki has been at play again it seems.” The woman glanced to the side, “Varmond.” She spoke a soft smile upon her lips. “You do not deserve to be in the center of this quarrel, neither does Azariah.” She cupped Azariah’s cheek carefully as she gazed into her eyes. “Loki killed my son.” She spoke in a flat tone. “The bastard child just can’t seem to behave himself.”
The woman that stood over Azariah was Frigg, Odin’s wife. She wasn’t like the other gods. She was warm and welcoming, an absolutely beautiful woman. “Azariah this is not what was planned for you, child.” She spoke as she leaned down and placed a kiss upon Azariah’s forehead. A dull white glow enveloped Azariah’s body then. Frigg only offered a smile as she watched consciousness slip away from Azariah once again. “Rest with her, Varmond, you are her husband after all.” She stepped to his side and held her palm forward it was empty for a moment and then a white light began to form a shape. As the light dissipated a dagger remained in her hand. She looked to Varmond and nodded, “You did well to protect her. This shall aid you. Though, choose wisely how you use it as it wields much power and only has so many uses.” Frigg searched his eyes, “I know you will keep her safe.” She nodded, “Your fates are intertwined in such a way that you couldn’t imagine. Her trust in you will be much different when she wakes. As much of a curse this was, it is in turn a blessing. She now knows that you will stop at nothing to protect her.” Frigg tilted her head slightly. “If you need me dear, just call, I will be keeping an eye on you.” She touched his arm before she walked from the home and disappeared into the blizzard that had formed outside.
It wasn’t long until Azariah woke. She took in a quick breath and rolled quickly. Her eyes wide. She glanced around the room until she found Varmond she stared to him a moment. “Thank you...” She breathed and she held her hand to her chest. “Thank you Varmond.” She moved to him and wrapped her arms around him then hugging herself to him for a long moment. “I’m sorry.” She whispered then. “It seems that trouble only follows me...” She took a step back. “It is not safe for me to be here with you...or within Skajadol...not with the gods watching me so closely...” She sighed softly and shook her head. “I’m sorry Varmond...” She repeated herself then. She tried to remember what happened, all she could remember was him scooping her into his arms and running...the next she was drinking the tonic...after that everything was blank. She didn’t remember her encounter with Frigg at all.
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Post by Nyte on Jun 2, 2019 0:17:41 GMT -5
Varmod really didn't want to move Azariah at all. Exposing her to the cold seemed a poor decision to him at the time, but Mag was the village's healer and oracle so she knew best. Or at least Varmod hoped she did. Mag let him borrow a large bear skin to wrap her in as he carried her in order to keep her warm. When they arrived he laid her in the bed, covered her up and then went to stoke the fire back to life and fed it more logs. The warmth quickly filled the house and Varmod removed his cloak before pulling a chair up next to the bed to watch and make sure Azariah continued to draw breath.
He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his chin resting in his palms as he tapped his foot on the wood floor as he watched Azariah. She seemed so small and frail to him at that moment. So easily broken, and he had been unable to protect her, again. He knew that Loki was the reason he hadn't known the house with the couple was fake. He had toyed with Varmod's mind, which made him think he was weak. He was so easily tricked and careless which had cost them dearly. What was the point of being the son of a god if he was just as helpless as every other mortal being? He sighed and ran his hands through his hair to push it out of his face, and when he looked up once more he saw the figure of a woman leaning over the bed and looking down at Azariah.
Varmod jumped to his feet and reached for the blade on his hip. Even if this was another god he was going to do everything he could to prevent them from laying a single finger on his wife. The only thing that stopped him was the gentle smile she gave him and reached down to brush a bit of hair from Azariah's face. There was a motherly presence about the woman and Varmod couldn't help but feel calmed. "Frigg.." He whispered and lowered himself back down to the chair and released his hold on the hilt of his sword. He was almost entranced as he watched her work and the light enveloped Azariah. Still he did not worry for his bride. Frigg wasn't like her son. She was kind and gentle.
When Frigg handed him the dagger he hesitated a moment before taking the weapon from her and held it as if it were made of glass for a moment while she explained its power, somewhat at least. Then the goddess was gone nearly as quickly as she had arrived. She left Varmod with questions and with a since of awe. Then all that was left for him to do was wait, and hope.
By the time Azariah awoke Varmod had sheathed the dagger against his lower back and he sighed in relief as she sat up and he welcomed her into his arms as she embraced him. He chuckled at her words and placed a hand on top of her head. "I wouldn't worry about it." He told her. "I think I see an end to the trouble in sight." He hugged her tightly. "It's not like you can leave anyway. Not in the dead of winter." He seemed in higher spirits now than he had been before. Frigg's visit had given him a great deal of hope.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 2, 2019 11:11:08 GMT -5
Azariah welcomed the embrace from Varmond, her face buried into his chest, his warmth. She remembered the since of drowning that had overwhelmed her, the bloody coughs. It was frightening. There was a sense of impending doom that hung over her head as she was whisked away quickly be Varmond to the city healer. The feather, she remembered him pulling it from her hair. The feather was used to bring her back? To heal her? Though, unfortunately it hadn’t protected her against Loki’s trickery and the poison he had gotten her to consume. Azariah was silent for a long time as she hugged her body close to Varmond. Eventually she pulled back slightly, just enough to look up into his eyes, her arms were still wrapped around behind him as if she was afraid the let him go. His high spirits seemed to bleed over into her as a soft smile curved up her lips. “If I cannot leave then at least I have you to protect me.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his for a moment before she hugged herself to him once again. “I would have died without you Varmond.” Her voice was muffled against his chest as she spoke.
**
Meanwhile…
Stav stood before the people of Whitlock his eyes gazed over the crowd before him. “We have been abandoned by Odin’s gift. The past few weeks show that as such.” He gazed around to the homes, a few had been damaged by horrendous winds and rains, a tree at the edge of town had been struck by lightning. “When this hellish winter breaks we will call upon Thor to guide us into the mountains, and we will wish that Helheim is the only place that the savages could possibly end up and that Hel treats them with no mercy.” The crowd cheered at his words. “As for my daughter.” His jaw was tight. “I do believe that she was forced to leave as Azariah has always fought for Whitlock without faltering. When we storm their village first we will locate Jarl Varmond and string him up high in the sky for everyone to see.” He made a motion as if he were tying a noose around his neck. “Then, we shall find our princess and fighting or willing she will return to Whitlock!” The crowd cheered once again.
Lila looked to her husband with soft sad eyes. She had cried nearly everyday since Azariah had been taken away. The oracle told her whispers of Azariah wanting to leave Whitlock and the only person to blame was Stav. Of course Lila wouldn’t dare repeat these words to her husband the king of Whitlock. No. That would cause for an uproar and she feared she would be killed far more quickly than the oracle who told her such words. Such lies. The queen stepped down from the lifted stage and walked from the cheering of the crowd. She followed the path up to the overlook where Azariah came frequently when she needed to think. Lila sat on the edge of the massive boulder as she looked out over the crashing waves of the sea.
“Mother?” Otta asked softly as he approached.
Lila let out a sigh as she heard his voice. “Yes, Otta? Has your father sent you to fetch me?” She questioned. “I’m in no need of fetching.”
Otta came to her side though he remained on his feet. “Do you blame me?” He asked plainly. “For Azariah’s kidnapping?”
Lila looked up to him a moment. “Dear boy you have been troublesome since you were in the womb.” She glanced back out to the sea. “I believe the gods have something to do with this, but no matter what you did or did not do, it would have turned out the same. Azariah would have left with Varmond she is married to him. It just may have been under better terms and we would not be listening to your father speak of war every day. Nor would we be listening to the constant hit of a blacksmith’s hammer upon his anvil.”
Otta took in a breath, “Do you think she abandoned us willingly mother?” He questioned, he seemed almost nervous.
Lila moved to her feet then, she placed her back to the cliff behind her. “Otta.” Her voice was cross. “I believe we should not speculate what your sister has or has not done until we find her.” She motioned toward the snowy mountains in the distance. “However it seems that Skadi has taken her hold upon the mountains so until spring we will not have our answer.” She crossed her arms over her chest just as lightening scattered across the skies.
Otta jumped slightly to the loud rumble of thunder. “Thor is not happy with Azariah...” He muttered.
“Or is it us that the gods are angry with?” Lila shot back at her son, “It was not Azariah that raped a woman. It was not Azariah that carved runes into your skin. It was not Azariah that threatened Varmond and his people and caused them to leave.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked to him. “The entire city was willing to follow a lie to pull your sister from that man, but what did he do when he was faced with such lies? He protected her and his people and he left. Noble if you ask me. He honestly seemed more honorable than you, Otta.” The queen turned to walk away then.
**
Azariah slipped from Varmond’s arms and stepped to the fire, her body was still chilled from her near death experience. “Should we continue your inspections upon the city?” She asked as she watched the dancing flames within the hearth.
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Post by Nyte on Jun 3, 2019 19:40:31 GMT -5
Varmod was glad that Frigg's prediction of her putting more faith in him seemed to be correct. Or at least she seemed very grateful. As she slipped from his arms and asked about what he wanted to do about his incomplete check on the town he gave a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. On one hand he wanted to finish them, but on the other he considered the risk. If he left Azariah alone.. well he wasn't sure what would happen, and if he took her Loki could see it as a challenge. He didn't want to bank on Frigg reigning her son in for his misdeed after she had already helped them tremendously. He was between a rock and a hard place. Either he play it safe and submit to the gods intimidation tactics, or he willfully disregard their attempts and continue on with his normal routine.
"I need to continue with my inspections. I want to make sure everyone is alright after my absence but I'm also concerned about your well being." He paused and looked her over for a moment. "I'll leave the decision up to you. I must go and you are free to accompany me, but if you want to stay here indoors you may do that as well." She knew Odin's will better than he did so he would leave that decision up to her.
As he turned to leave the house and head back outside he heard the sound of a horn bellowing across the city. He paused for only a moment to listen before he heard another call from the horn. He strode across the room to his weapon's rack hanging on the wall. He picked up his bow, quiver, and a large axe. He already had his sword on his hip. "Raiders. This day just keeps getting better." He told Azariah and tossed her another bow he had. It was better suited for hunting but would bring down a man just as well as it brought down a stag.
Once he was armed he ran outside where dozens of other men had already risen to arms as well at the sound of the horn. Varmod, ran through the snow, his cloak flapping in the cold wind behind him, as he made his way to the east side of the village. Women and children that lived on that side of town made their way towards the center to take refuge with their neighbors while the men and shield maidens took care of the threat. As Varmod ran he could hear the sound of battle and when he rounded a corner he saw that there was a rather large raiding party cutting their way through the men of Skajadol who scrambled to get their footing in the fight.
Varmod took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, and he gave a mighty battle cry. His voice seemed to echo around them off of the buildings and carried with such volume that it made most of the fighting men pause. Varmod's voice was loud enough that it almost sounded as if he had used a horn to project it, but the men of Skajadol knew their leader's cry so when the enemy paused the men of Skajadol used their hesitation to gain the upper hand. Several men rallied behind Varmod as well as he charged into the fray swinging his axe.
As he ran his muscles tensed and coiled while he brought the axe back and as he swung the weapon forward he caught a man in the chest and hit him with such force that it knocked the corpse into another man standing several feet away to send them both sprawling in the snow and staining it red. After his hit on one man Varmod would step into a turn and continue swinging his axe till it met with another raider, downing them as well. He continued this way till the handle of his axe was covered in so much blood he could no longer grip it. Then he threw the weapon into the back of a man who tried to run from the battle. With his axe gone Varmod pulled his sword from the sheath and continued to cut down the enemy while continuing to yell and taunt the men when they hesitated or ran from the sight of him.
For every act of diplomacy that Varmod had every attempted to initiate with other cities or tribes that had ended in battles Varmod had always secretly hoped they would refuse. He loved the thrill of battle, the adrenaline rush, and ecstasy of seeing men run in fear from his blood soaked visage. There were few things in life that gave him such pleasure. The calm and diplomatic man vanished under the brutal warrior that waded his way through bodies.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 3, 2019 20:22:22 GMT -5
Azariah watched her husband as he spoke. He worried for her, but he also had a duty. “I….” She went to speak just as Varmond heard the horn bellow. Everything from there seemed to speed into a faster motion. She swiftly caught the bow in her hands as he tossed it. “Go!” She called to him as she rushed across the room and grabbed her shield. She slipped the bow over her back as she drew her sword. She was behind him as they ran into battle. The sound of swords clattering against shields was music to her ears. Azariah, as frail as she may appear, was built for battle, she lived for it and breathed it. During the summers when Whitlock when upon raids she usually was able to get the highest kill count of all the men. She rushed in behind Varmond and joined him in battle. The cold from before had melted from her veins.
She caught her blade with a warrior’s axe, her eyes gazed up to him as he grinned to her, his face was splattered in blood. Azariah only smirked to him before she brought her shield up into his chin. She kicked him back and in a swift motion her sword sliced across his throat, splattering the snow with red. She spun and slammed her shield into another warrior before she sliced into his ribs. She shoved the blade all the way up into the hilt and she gazed into his eyes a moment as life left him. The moment his eyes began to glaze over Azariah kicked him from her blade. She was nimble and quick. In the midst of battle her eyes caught Varmond in his glory as he yelled. He was drenched in the blood of the raiders. She saw the moment he tossed his axe into the back of the coward that fled. A grin split Azariah’s lips, but it was short lived as she was slammed to her back on the ground. Her sword fell from her grasp as she landed harshly. The raider that pinned her wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed harshly. Azariah fought to move as he held her between his thighs. She squirmed as her face grew red and her fingertips grasped a hold of her dagger upon her thigh. She sliced into his side. Once. Twice. Then she moved and slammed him to his back before she brought the blade down into his eye socket.
Azariah quickly grasped her shield, she sheathed her blade and she retrieved her sword. The battle went on and her movements continued to be quick and agile. Then out the the corner of her eye she saw something. A glint in the sky, something shiny against the snow and blood. Azariah turned her head to see an arrow aimed directly at Varmond. She rushed forward her eyes began to glow. “Varmond!” She cried as she reached out toward the object. The world around her grew silent. Azariah was the only thing that moved in time. She rushed to the arrow and grasped it from the air. Her eyes followed the line that it was shot from to see a man upon a horse about a hundred yards away. The princess quickly dropped her shield and she drew her bow. She notched the same arrow that the raider shot and she lifted the bow to draw it back. All the while the world around her was dead silent. Droplets of blood hung in the air, suspended in time. With an easy breath she loosed the arrow and it cut through the air just as time resumed.
The man upon the horse fell swiftly and Azariah lifted her shield once again. She glanced to Varmond a moment before she slammed against another raider. Some began to retreat. The man upon the horse had been their leader. She drew her bow once more and one by one she drew arrows from her quiver. Her aim was impeccable. Azariah narrowed her eyes and held her breath with each shot. She turned then as it seemed the raiders had been taken care of. “Varmond?” She asked as she rushed to him. She looked over him quickly. “Are you alright?” She gazed into his eyes. “Where were they from?” She glanced to the man that lay on the ground that she’d shot, the leader of the raiders. She had a few cuts from grazes of swords and axes upon her body. Simple battle wounds, nothing to be too concerned about. The glow remained in her eyes for a moment longer before it slowly melted away to reveal the beautiful silver hues once again. She glanced around to the carnage, the men and women of Skajadol that had been slain in battle, and then the bodies of the raiders.
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Post by Nyte on Jun 3, 2019 22:08:39 GMT -5
Varmod's fighting style was like that of a bersker. His motions seemed erratic and wild, but his weapons struck their target in lethal spots and he almost never missed. Swords, knives, and axes grazed or cut into his flesh and he didn't even flinch. It was impossible to tell if the blood smeared across his skin was that of his victims or his own. Either way he cut, sliced and barged his way through the waves of raiders, occasionally catching a glimpse of shining metal as Azariah's sword cut down dozens of men on her own. Together the pair were a force to be reckoned with and even those of Skajadol did their best to stay out of their bloody path.
When the dust settled and the last of the raiders had either run or been slain Varmod stood in the middle of a grotesque scene of mutilated bodies. His chest rose and fell as he breathed hard from the exertion of the fight but as he scanned the battlefield and found Azariah he continued to smile with all of his teeth showing, stark white against the filth that now covered him. When she approached him to ask if he was alright he dropped his weapon to slide his hands under her arms and lifted her up to swing her around as he laughed in celebration. "We ran them off! And you were fantastic!" He praised and then set her down after two spins. Men around him celebrated as well by yelling and banging their weapons against their shields. Make enough noise so that the gods may hear their victory. "Lead shield maiden! I can see why. We shall have to put you to work teaching the others!"
Other men around them shouted their agreement, but as the adrenaline of the fight wore off everyone became more somber as they found their fallen brothers that had fought valiantly during the battle. Though their own loses were few in number in comparison to the raiders who had tried to take them by surprise it was still saddening to lose their friends. Though they knew that their souls would be welcomed at the grand feasting table next to Odin in Valhalla.
After they had gathered their kin Varmod noticed he had several wounds along his arms and a couple on his legs. From the light headedness he felt he could tell that he had bled a good amount as well. "Been a little to long since I've fought like that. Seems I've pushed myself a little to far." He said and chuckled as he stumbled and caught himself on the wall of a nearby building.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 5, 2019 11:02:37 GMT -5
Azariah gasped as Varmond grasped her and lifted her into the air. His response was not something she was prepared for. His smile and laughter only caused a smile to curve up her lips and her own laugher to slip from her mouth. The princess chuckled as he set her down, her hands gripped onto his arms lightly as she gazed up into his eyes. “You are an incredible fighter.” She was high in the moment. The adrenaline that the fight gave her made her feel on top of the world. She could do anything. She didn’t have a worry or care. She glanced around to the faces of the men and women whom banged their weapons against their shields and cheered. It was a sight to see. The people of Whitlock did not celebrate in such a way, it was all ale and feasting once they returned to Whitlock. But this, cheering on the victory? This felt incredible. She turned her silvery hues back to Varmond and gave a smile, “Of course I’ll teach them.”
Was it battle that the two had needed to connect? Perhaps Varmond just needed to see Azariah in action to realize how skilled of a fighter she truly was. She didn’t look as though she would play the part of a skilled fighter. Especially when she was dressed in her wedding dress just a few weeks prior. She played the part of Princess rather well, but when it came to battle she surpassed even the most seasoned of fighters with her agility and sheer will to fight.
Azariah’s silver hues glanced to the fallen then as the cheers seemed to dissipate over the stained snow. She took in a slow breath as her eyes fell upon Moira’s husband. His body was slumped forward over the body of one of the Raiders, an axe was imbedded deep in his spine. “Moira...” She breathed as she thought of the pain that this would bring her friend. She’d stepped forward and knelt next to him. She carefully pulled the axe from his back and set it in the snow before she rolled him onto his back. She reached up with her blood covered hand and carefully closed his eyes. “Rest in Valhalla.” Azariah whispered as she crossed his hands upon his chest. The next moments seemed to bleed together as Azariah helped the others with gathering up their kin onto wagons so that they may lay them to rest properly.
The princess stepped forward quickly to Varmond’s chuckle. Her hands grasped onto him and her eyes filled with worry. “Varmond….you’re injured...” She searched over his arms, with all of the blood she couldn’t discern his blood from the blood of the raiders. “Come on then.” She wrapped his arm over her shoulders easily. He was much taller than her and his weight was more than her small figure should have been able to hold.
“Princess.” One of the men spoke as he stepped to their side. “Allow me.” He took Varmond’s other arm and brought it over his shoulder. “Where are we headed then?” He questioned.
“Home.” She responded softly, “I’ll tend to his wounds.” She gave a gentle smile. “Ask the oracle to come to his home if you would.” She then fell silent as she continued along. Azariah moved Varmond into the basin in his home and she gathered snow into metal buckets and warmed it over the hearth. Azariah carefully removed his clothing piece by piece as she dabbed at his wounds and body, the cloth began to turn red and red liquid ran down over his skin as she cleaned away the dried blood. “The adrenaline must have kept you from feeling this.” She spoke as she carefully poured warm water into the basin. “The oracle should be here soon to help.” She focused on cleaning the blood from the raiders from his body. As she passed over his wounds the small cuts she wrapped with a clean cloth, she would carefully apply pressure to slow the bleeding. Her touch was gentle and caring. Tending to the wounded was something that she’d always done after Whitlock went to battle. After Azariah cleaned all of the wounds she wrapped Varmond’s arm around her and she lifted him to his feet. “Come on.” She spoke as she turned and wrapped a warm fur around his body. She moved him to the bed as she continued to manage the bleeding from a few of the other injuries. “You were so incredible on the battle field.” She brushed her fingertips through his wet hair before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Azariah lifted her eyes to the door then as a knock came from it. “That must be her.” She spoke as she stood from his side and moved to the door to welcome the Oracle into his home. Azariah pulled the door open and bowed her head. “Thank you for coming.” She spoke softly as she stepped to the side.
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Post by Nyte on Jun 8, 2019 19:11:48 GMT -5
As the excitement died down Varmod felt his wounds more and more. His body screamed in pain but he kept his complaining down to just a few grunts or groans as he was moved. When they finally got him home and Azariah began to clean his wounds as she helped remove his clothing he closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the pain of the wound but the tenderness of her touch. She was so gentle, and yet deadly on the battle field. A woman he could be proud to be wed to. Even after all that had happened since their wedding, and the circumstancing surrounding it, he found he never felt regret. Which was a bit of a surprise for him.
As the blood washed away from his body the wounds he received became more apparent. Several long but shallow gashes covered his arms and legs. There was a small puncture wound in his shoulder where the tip of a blade had managed to pierce his skin but he had pulled away before it could do any real damage. His wounds were superficial but he would be sore the next few days. Once he was cleaned he checked over his own body as Azariah worked and gave a soft chuckle. It had been years since he had gone into battle without his protective feather. Normally he was spared wounds such as these. It was something he would have to get used to now.
When it came time to move him to the bed he gave a sigh as he relaxed into the furs around him and smiled at her compliment. Though as she kissed him he couldn't help but to think that if he hadn't been injured he would have pulled her into the bed with him at that moment. The oracle knocking at the door quickly dashed those thoughts away however. When the older woman walked into the house Varmod simply watched from the bed.
"Busy busy day." She remarked and glanced towards Azariah. "I'll need to sleep for the rest of the winter, like a bear, after this, hmm?" She smiled and gave a chuckle before making her way over to Varmod and setting her bag on the foot of the bed. "As for you. I've not had to tend to any wounds of yours in a very long time. If you wanted to see me you can just swing by, No need to get all bloody on the way." While she gave the playful scolding she dug through her satchel and pulled out a couple bowls, a mortar and pestle, and several herbs. "Could you bring me some of that water dear? I'll make him a tea to help him sleep tonight." She paused and looked back over her shoulder at Azariah. "Or should I give him one to restore his strength instead?" She gave Azariah a teasing smile and tapped the side of her nose as she chuckled again.
"You never change, Mag." Varmod told her with a sigh.
"Oh? Predictable am I?" She looked back to her herbs and shrugged. "It's thanks to my teas that our people are no numerous these days anyway. More babies last year than any other before that." She chuckled again.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 8, 2019 20:08:44 GMT -5
Azariah gave a soft smile as she looked to the Oracle. “Busy indeed.” She responded with a bit of a sigh as she closed the door and followed the woman. Her eyes showed concern as she looked to Varmond though she chuckled as Mag picked on him. “Yes, I imagine he could have just called.” She remarked as she grasped a cup and dipped it into the fresh pale of water. She brought it to Mag and to the remark her cheeks flushed bright pink. Before she had time to answer Varmond spoke and took the attention off of her to which she gave a relieved breath.
The princess watched the Oracle curiously, she was nothing like the Oracle of Whitlock. She was friendly to begin with. She smiled and joked around. The Oracle of Whitlock would have to be insane to laugh, or to spread such cheer. He didn’t assist in healing the townspeople nor did he provide remedies like Mag spoke of. Azariah took in a breath as she glanced to the blood that was speckled over her body. “I should...get this blood off of me, hm?” She gave a soft smile before she slipped away to the tub. She gathered pales of the water and carried them outside to dump the bloodied red water from the tub. Azariah soon gathered fresh snow and melted it just as she had for Varmond. She poured herself a bath and soon after she sank into the tub. The heat felt good on her body as she relaxed.
She washed the blood of the raiders from her skin, cuts here and there appeared on her arms, though nothing like Varmond had suffered. She spent well enough time in the back room that she could have sworn she heard the Oracle leave the home. As she climbed from the water and dried herself off she wrapped her arms and she found a tunic of Varmond’s that looked more like a nightgown on her tiny form. Soon enough she emerged from the back room and she came to his side. “How do you feel?” She questioned as she brushed her fingers through his hair. She looked to the bandaging on his arms and gingerly touched his arm. “Did the tea help?” The look of concern in her eyes was nothing like the looks she’d given him before he’d saved her. Her actions toward him had changed, much as Frigg had suggested she would.
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Post by Nyte on Jun 8, 2019 20:49:54 GMT -5
Mag made pastes and ointments in her bowls that she used to stop the bleeding of Varmod's wounds and re'wrapped his arms and legs as she finished with each one. The woman worked as quickly as she could but her old age prevented her from going to quickly. So while Azariah went to bathe she continued her work and let the banter fall to the wayside as she did. When she finished tending to his wounds cleaned her tools and packed them away neatly with her herbs in her satchel. She also set two bundles of tea leaves on the table in the middle of the room before leaving. "Make the purple flower into a tea in the evening and the yellow in the morning. They will help." She told him and then went on her way. There were lots of other houses she needed to visit that evening.
With his wounds covered Varmod groaned as he pushed himself up in the bed and eventually got up to make his way over to the bundles Mag had left for him. He took the purple one, as she instructed, and placed the leaves in a small cloth bag and placed that inside of a kettle of water as he put it over the fire to boil. While the tea brewed he managed to find some pants and pull them carefully over the bandages on his legs then collected some cups to pour the hot tea into. He had just sat down at the table when Azariah emerged, wearing one of his shirts, and his eyes fluttered slightly as her fingers combed through his hair. "I've seen her give this to others. When they have wounds or nightmares. Allows them to sleep more peacefully." He responded to her question and poured her a cup of the tea as well. "Here, will help you as well." He said as he handed it to her.
"If Mag ever makes you uncomfortable you can tell her to leave you alone. She's always bothering the young women in the village. She never wed and never had children of her own so she pesters the others to have what she didn't." He was thinking back to the old woman's comments to Azariah earlier. "She's a good healer and a kind woman but she is also rather nosy." He chuckled and sipped his tea and grimaced a bit before reaching for a stick of cinnamon setting in the middle of the table in a cup. It would help offset the bitterness of the tea.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 8, 2019 21:04:29 GMT -5
Azariah moved to sit next to him, her silver hues looked over his bandaging carefully as he spoke. When he mentioned the teas use to help with nightmares her brows drew together slightly. A soft smile curved up her lips though as he poured her a mug as well. “Thank you.” She took the warm mug from Varmond. She watched him as he began speaking of Mag.
“Oh...” Azariah chuckled and shook her head, “No I am simply not used to an Oracle such as her.” She let out another soft laugh. “You’ve met the Oracle of Whitlock. He is a man of business and riddles. He offers much and yet at the same time he offers nothing. In return you are to respect him without questioning him and you are to trust that everything that comes from his mouth is that of the gods.” She raised a brow slightly. “To hear an Oracle speak so casually...” She paused a moment in thought as she slowly stood. “It isn’t something that I am accustomed to.” She stepped to the hearth and began stoking the fire. She placed a log over the smoldering embers and she slowly brought the fire back to life.
The princess came to Varmond and she ran her fingertips through his hair once again, a gentle smile upon his lips. She then moved to sit beside him once more. “She spoke that you haven’t had wounds in a very long time...” Azariah drew her brows together. “The feather...you gave the feather to me, and then when I was poisoned...you used the feather to help me pull through. But now in battle you are no longer protected.” She let out a sigh and shook her head slightly. “I will protect you, even if it means dressing your wounds after battle.” She kissed his cheek before she sat back and sipped her tea. Her eyes moved to the flickering flames a moment as she seemed to relax after a few sips. “I’ve never seen this flower before.” She noted, “Is it something that is native to Skajadol?”
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Post by Nyte on Jun 8, 2019 21:17:02 GMT -5
Varmod listened intently to Azariah as she spoke and watched her movements as she got up to bring the fire back to life. She was a graceful woman and he rather enjoyed watching her tend to various things. The careful way she moved and handled objects but with a firmness that came from confidence and certainty. When she made her way back to his side he smiled and gently took one of her hands in his as she sat next to him once more. "It's not that I wasn't wounded with the feather, just not to a degree that I needed Mag, or anyone else, to help tend to them. Also, I thought I was supposed to be the one protecting you." He smirked then brought his cup to this lips and quickly drank down the rest of his tea and shuddered.
"The flower is native here but I have no idea where it grows. Mag keeps that secret to herself and says she'll only tell the one who is going to replace her where it grows." He shrugged and picked up one of the remaining flowers on the table and turned it slowly between his fingers as he examined it. "I've asked her why she guards it so closely many times but her response is simply that she must protect them. I don't even know their name." He set the flower back down and turned back to Azariah and brought her hand that he held up to his lips to give her a kiss on the back of her fingers. "The mountains around Skajadol hold many secrets and some say that there are even beasts on the peaks that will grant wishes. None are willing to make the trip though. Even those who are accustomed to the harsh winters here cannot survive the mountain side for very long."
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jun 8, 2019 21:34:39 GMT -5
Azariah looked to her fingers as she laced them within his, his hands were warm against her cool skin. Her hand fit within his like a puzzle piece, this only caused a smile to grow upon her face as she gazed to him. “Hm, you are supposed to protect me yes. But...who will protect you if I do not?” She smirked, her voice playful. She gave a squeeze to his hand then before she took a sip of her tea. As he spoke of the flowers Azariah continued to sip upon her tea. It was bitter, yet sweet. A strange flavor, like nothing that she had ever had before.
“I’m sure she has her reasons for protecting the flowers.” She finished off her tea as he began to speak of the hidden secrets of the mountains. Her interest was peaked as he spoke of the wish granting beasts. “Hm, interesting to think there could be something out there.” She looked to their hands, “There are a lot of things that have changed for me. Things that I didn’t think possible.” She looked to him, “Though, I’m glad for it.” She gazed into his eyes a long moment, her fingertips lifted and she traced along his cheek and jaw. She seemed deep in thought as a smile curved up her lips. “Come on.” She nodded as she stood slowly. She kept her hand in his as she waited for him to stand. “You need rest so that you may heal.” She spoke as she led him to the bed. Azariah carefully helped him to lay. She tucked the furs in around him before she moved around to the other side of the bed. She climbed beneath the furs and she moved close to him. She gingerly slipped so that her body was hugged to his side. “Get some rest, Varmond.” She whispered, her eyes heavy from the tea. She traced along his skin just as she had the night before. She lay quietly until her hand grew slack against him and her body loosened. Her breathing became deep and even as she slipped into the world of sleep.
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Post by Nyte on Jun 8, 2019 21:58:32 GMT -5
The following days, after putting their dead to rest from the attack on them by the raiders, Varmod instructed the men and fighting women of the city to begin their preparation for the inevitable battle in the spring. The thick winter snows on the ground made it hard to move so Varmod had the work animals brought around to plow the snow and clear a field in order for them to practice on days where the weather was tolerable. The days they were trapped in doors Varmod held meetings in his home with the council Varmod kept to help him manage the city. They discussed defensive plans and possible strategies for a counter attack on Whitlock. Though an attack on Whitlock was something that Varmod knew Azariah would not like he had to consider the option. If a true war broke out and they did not want it to drag on for years they would eventually have to take their enemy out. Having a permanent enemy to worry about to the south was not an option.
Since Skajadol had a nearly a whole tribe's worth of boys approaching their coming of age Varmod also had to prepare their ceremonies so that they could go through a trial just as he had when he was their age. Every man in Skajadol went on a hunt with two of their peers when they were old enough. Their goal was to bring back a worthy prize from a hunt. Rabbits, foxes and other small fauna would not earn them their rite of passage. It would take a stag, bear or some other large beast for them to become warriors of the tribe. Normally the ceremony was conducted in the spring but with the threat of war they were simply waiting for Mag to give them grace on if the weather would hold long enough to for the boys to set out on their hunts. Communing with Skadi had been more difficult as of late and Varmod wouldn't even consider going to his mother to ask for her graces concerning her storms. After their last encounter she would most likely have a mind to make the winter even more brutal.
When they were able to use their cleared field Varmod silently oversaw the work Azariah did with the other fighting women of Skajadol. The women were proud and good warriors and fought back against their new teacher at first, until they received disapproving looks from Varmod, but slowly came around to listen to Azariah and eventually embraced her techniques. The men were much easier to motivate. One of the council members had a daughter that had also come of age and offered up the chance to court his daughter to the winner of a tournament. Of course it was nothing near as grand as the one Varmod had taken part in to earn Azariah's hand and it was only for the chance to court the girl, but the young boys and men leaped at the opportunity. The tournament allowed them to practice their hand to hand combat as well so Varmod allowed it. Not to mention it boosted morale to have a contest.
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