|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Oct 30, 2010 7:32 am
"So much for that," Aesir muttered as he squinted at the morning sun.
He'd learned his lesson after that first feast, the one at which his ascension to the rank of Warlord was celebrated and he'd given Gunne's consort to one of the Captains as a gift. He and Morrigan had both woken with the most gods-awful hangovers. And Morrigan had decorated their den. He'd been terrified, in truth. Never again had he allowed himself to get to that point, though moderation was not a great deal of fun, honestly.
This morning he was not hungover. He was just not thrilled to be awake so early. There was still dew clinging to the plants for goodness sake. Damn cold dew, he observed when he actually brushed against it. He'd been little more than an adolescent when he challenged into the Stormborn, and he'd been relatively local, but he definitely remembered that the world was not universally as cold as it was in the stronghold first thing in the morning. Bracing, was how the Stormborn described it with a grin which was half grimace.
"Should've slept in," the Warlord muttered, but it was too late for that. Besides, he was thirsty, which meant either a trip up to the ice melts or down to the stream.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 01, 2010 4:25 pm
 Gunnar enjoyed mint as much as anyone else, but he rarely used it to excess. He didn't enjoy feeling out of control, dizzy, uninhibited ... it made him nervous. He didn't want to embarrass himself. The blond-maned lion was frequently up early in the morning, his head clear and ready to enjoy the day.
Despite the cold, Gunnar actually enjoyed being up early. Ah, there was nothing like the brisk air to wake an appetite. He wasn't going to be out patrolling for strangers until later in the day, so he had the morning to himself.
Well ... almost to himself. Gunnar was slightly surprised to see the Warlord himself. He himself usually stayed out of pride politics, preferring battle and sparring with his comrades. As he bowed his head slightly, respectfully, Gunnar reflected that it was a damned good thing he didn't take much interest in thralls. He knew that Aesir had spent a brief stint as a thrall ... it would be an awful thing if the Warlord had any reason to hold a grudge against him.
Gunnar didn't really know how one should greet a Warlord, so as he raised his head he grinned fiercely and greeted Aesir as he would a fellow reaver. "Someday I will kill you!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 03, 2010 12:17 pm
With a grin that bared enough teeth to be considered a threat in any other pride, but which would only be taken for a certain pleasure at the thought of even hypothetical bloodshed, Aesir turned his golden eyes to the Reaver who'd addressed him. His grin grew wider, if anything, as he returned the greeting with its traditional response: "Not today."
He didn't have to work hard to recall the name of this particular Reaver. Gunnar's name was similar enough to that of the former Warlord, Gunne, that it was more or less indelibly seared into the current Warlord's brain. Not that Aesir's feelings for Gunne were also associated with Gunnar. He could clearly distinguish between the two, and had no problems with the Reaver. He actually thought pretty well of him, all things told. He was very much a typical Stormborn, and Aesir could find no fault with that.
"You're awake early," Aesir observed. Of course, it was possible that Gunnar was always awake at this time, and it was Aesir who was actually acting out of character by being awake to notice it, but either way, he'd said it. "I'm guessing you didn't imbibe a great deal last night?"
Aesir had not yet decided whether he would go up to the snow melts or down to the stream, and so in the meantime he was pleased to speak with Gunnar. It was important to him to keep well aware of what his Stormborn were doing and thinking. Not that he meant to try to be everyone's friend - that wasn't a Warlord's duty. But he did want to know his people well. That way they couldn't surprise him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 03, 2010 3:36 pm
Pleased at Aesir's response to his greeting, Gunnar's grin widened in return. He was a bit alarmed by the Warlord's questions, though. Gunnar knew the Warlord likely wasn't quizzing him for any real reason, but being questioned about his habits still made him feel a bit anxious. He had never had much ambition beyond being the best reaver he could be. There was no reason a Warlord should be interested in him. Aesir should be hobnobbing with captains and the like, doing important things.
Squashing his foolish nerves, Gunnar shrugged. "I'm usually awake early. The cold makes me feel more alert." There were few lions to spar with and not much to do in the early morning, but Gunnar still liked to be up and about. "I don't usually get very drunk, Warlord. I like to have my head clear, be ready for action." He grinned his usual toothy grin at that. All right, so his real reason for holding back was a loathing of potential embarrassment, but Aesir didn't have to know that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 03, 2010 4:13 pm
Aesir sometimes wondered what the Reavers and Captains thought of him, particularly now that he had become their Warlord. He had not exactly come by the title in the traditional way. In fact, the deviousness he'd displayed could very easily have been interpreted as treachery. There were even worse punishments for treachery than there were for simply losing a challenge for leadership. Thralldom was nowhere near as unbearable as having his soul bound to Priestess Saraneth, kept from the afterlife. That could have been the way things went if the pride hadn't decided his manipulations were clever. If they'd known about the poison...
"Bracing, isn't it?" Aesir remarked. He didn't put any particular inflection on the words or smile to indicate that he was making a joke, but it was a joke in his mind. He remembered clearly having those exact words repeated to him by various Stormborn who had been born into the pride on chill mornings or frigid nights when he could see his own breath in the air. He had learned to laugh, even while his balls felt like they were being frozen off, because no true Stormborn would admit to be discomfited by something as minor as the weather.
Gunnar's very virtuous response brought the Warlord's grin back. It had not been until he had been demoted to being a Thrall that Aesir had learned the value of keeping his head when intoxicants were brought out. Until then, he had reveled in drunkenness and all the exploits he got up to while he was under the influence. It seemed like a Stormborn pastime to get drunk, get hungover, and go out to fight the next morning no matter how one's brain ached.
"I can understand that. And yet there's really nothing like battle to clear the head, is there?" Said a lion who had grown up something of a bully and only lost a few fights in his life.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Nov 03, 2010 6:39 pm
Gunnar nodded at Aesir's comment. He didn't catch the joke at all. Bracing was exactly how he would describe it. Having been born into the pride, Gunnar had been told of the chill's marvelous properties despite its discomfort since he was tiny. Unlike many of his fellows, though, he actually believed it, and enjoyed the morning's chill despite its bite. Yes, bracing indeed.
The blond lion had been a little worried at how Aesir would take his comment about wanting to keep his head clear. He was uncomfortably aware that it was a bit unusual, and if there was one thing Gunnar didn't want, it was to be seen as unusual in any way. Thankfully Aesir didn't seem to think it odd.
Once Aesir had turned the subject to battle, Gunnar was quite a bit more enthusiastic. He returned the Warlord's grin, pleased. If there was one thing Gunnar could talk about, it was battle. "Yes, nothing better than battle. I haven't been a-viking in a while, so I have to keep myself sharp. I don't like the mint making me foolish." He straightened up a little, showing off his scars. He didn't have as impressive a collection as some Stormborn, not by far, but Gunnar was perversely proud of that. Each scar he had received was well earned, from a worthy opponent. "I duel as often as I can, while I'm at home. Perhaps you've met Taraxa? He's a great reaver, an excellent duelist as well." Gunnar couldn't resist adding that little boast at the end of his statement.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 04, 2010 7:28 am
Aesir had lived among the Stormborn for years now, and he still had to stop and marvel from time to time at his good fortune in finding this pride, which so suited his temperament. The fact was, outside of the Stormborn, Aesir really would have been considered a bully, but because the majority of the pride was about as good at fighting as he was, he fit right in and didn't have to deal with negative labels. His prowess in battle and his ability to hurt those who couldn't defend themselves was applauded. Conversely, this had made him a bit less of a bully. Ironically, it was not his strength, but his cunning which had won him his position.
He smiled at Gunnar.
"I was thinking I might take a small viking party out in the near future, once things are a little bit more settled. Maybe you'd like to be one of my crew when I go?"
One thing which had always bothered Aesir, whether he was a Reaver, Captain, or Thrall, was how many crews went out drunk or hungover. As a Captain he'd had little tolerance for it, and would had a very strict policy about how much mint a Reaver could eat or sniff in a day. It hadn't been a popular policy, but since Aesir himself so obviously enjoyed the substance and was also restricted, his Reavers had endured it. The fact that Gunnar claimed to be self-moderating put him in a very good stead with the Warlord.
"I know of Taraxa," Aesir said with a nod. "But you say he's a great Reaver and fighter? Perhaps I ought to see if he'd like to come when next I go viking, too. A Warlord's first viking as Warlord ought to have great Reavers, worthy of song and story, don't you think?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 04, 2010 11:58 am
Gunnar was starting to feel much more at ease now. He'd been a little anxious about talking to the Warlord - surely Aesir had lofty matters to attend to - but Aesir seemed very much a lion after his own heart. The offer to be in Aesir's own crew was wonderful. It would be something to brag about for sure. He would have to be at his very best, but Gunnar was quite confident in his fighting abilities.
Thrilled as he was, it wouldn't do to squeal and gush over the offer like a little female. Gunnar drew himself up a bit more, smiling his toothy smile. "I will fight my best for you, Warlord - of course, I am always at my best." He laughed a bit at his own boast.
As pleased as he was to get recognition from the Warlord, Gunnar was just as delighted that Aesir knew of Taraxa. The Reaver was one of his greatest friends, and Gunnar thought he always fought better with a friend at his back. Particularly one as ferocious as Taraxa. Gunnar nodded to the Warlord. "Taraxa would certainly bring you glory, Warlord." Gunnar was tempted to ask if he should seek out some more strong reavers, but of course Aesir had once been a captain himself. He likely already had a band picked out. "We need some new thralls," he said instead, firmly. "I aim to capture a few myself."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 04, 2010 4:41 pm
"Who of the Stormborn is not?" Aesir countered, not minding Gunnar's boasting in the least. Boasting was a time-honored practice among the Stormborn, and it was from boasts that the best stories were born. There was nothing like a good story to make an evening pass more pleasantly. Or a morning or an afternoon, for that matter. The Stormborn did love their stories and their sagas.
Aesir's voice was beginning to sound perhaps a little gruff. This had nothing to do with his mood, which was fine now that his body had acclimated to the chillier temperature outside his den, but rather due to the fact that his mouth and throat were simply dry. A night of celebration, even in moderation, could leave a lion feeling fiercely dry in the morning. That was why he'd set out from his den originally, after all, to quench his thirst. This conversation, while hardly something he would regret, was not doing anything to slake his thirst.
"I have no doubts about the abilities of any in this pride to bring glory to their names," Aesir said. He naturally excluded the Thralls and non-combatant Freeborn from this statement. Glory was won on the battlefield, and even if a person was exemplary at something else, it was not that thing which would earn them commendation and praise in the afterlife, nor win them a name as a hero for future generations to admire.
"I hope you'll do so, in that case. Myself, I'm only interested in catching something to drink. I was on my way to do that before I interrupted your morning routine." It wasn't quite a dismissal, but it was Aesir's way of letting Gunnar know that he hadn't much else to say, and that unless the Reaver had anything to add, the Warlord would be going about his business.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 04, 2010 8:57 pm
Gunnar was feeling much less intimidated by the Warlord. Aesir might be in charge of much loftier matters than Gunnar (and attached to that mysterious priestess, as well), but he was a Stormborn in the end, just like Gunnar himself. He nodded as Aesir spoke, smiling. Of course all of the pride's warriors would bring glory to their names. That was a good thing. And he himself was sure he would get a bit more than his fair share of it, raiding with the Warlord and his good friend at his side. It would be something to tell his cubs about ... if he ever had any.
The blond lion would have been happy to stand around for a while longer talking about battle and bragging and other such vital things, but he knew a polite dismissal when he heard one. He didn't want to spoil his fledgling reputation with the Warlord by keeping him from his business, nattering away at him like some woman.
"I've already been up to the snow melts this morning," Gunnar said. "A fine view." He wouldn't pester the Warlord by tagging along. He grinned at Aesir and nodded to him before heading his own way.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
