Chapter 1 - Change

Gann slowly limps towards the village and scans his surroundings for anyone who might appear either elderly or knowledgeable. He attempts to speak to a pair of wandering women but his feral looks and vagrant odour makes them avoid him with no response to his crude Mercian questions. He points afar towards the mound as they walk off. "There's this woman, and she needs help." he turns to some aged man carrying a wrap of rope who mutters something and continues before he would hear the rest, "Healer, even a birth woman will do. Do you know any?" Eventually, Gann stops to give his leg some rest and get a defeated look around. He realizes he has been pushing his leg too much as the pain gets too intense even for someone used to the punishment of lasting injury. He notices to his left when Kara in her armored outfit walks into the tavern longhouse. Gann take another inhale to bolster himself, and then hobbles towards it.  Once inside, he squints his eyes and grits teeth. The laughter, the noise coming from every direction, the smell of food assaults his senses. For a man who has not tasted anything in days but few earthy gifts, he takes moment to compose and then continue towards where he recognizes Kara, as well as Branok and Gawen in a company of a stranger.

Spotting Gann entering the longhouse, Gawen raises his mug to him in greeting across the crowded hall before continuing his conversation with Tucker. "There's another one that could use some of the gods' attention. Found him half-dead in the woods yesterday, a wound in his leg that had gone bad. At least he's walking now so we must have done something right." He takes another sip of ale before continuing, "So are you and Branok part of the same temple, or do you just know each other from previous trips? How many are in your circle, and how often do you perform rituals?"

Gann notices the gesture across the hall and nods in return then takes his time to oslowly make his way across. He has to lean for support as he does so, and almost stumbles over Pen as he races happily from under one table to the near one. Gann ignores the grinding pain in his stomach for now, aware he has none of the meager silver on him. There was ample meat on the wagon now that he had his hands no longer tied as some quarry, and he could wait a bit longer. "Gawen.",  Gann speaks with a gravel voice once near. "The woman, the one with Magan, she needs help. It might nae wait." He crosses glances with both Branok and the stranger, noting the few select words he overheard as he drew closer.

Tucker gives Gann a look of friendly appraisal. "Aye, you look like you've seen better days yourself, lad. The circle will see what it can do, but tonight. I have to send word first and, if I've understood Branok correctly, the girl's out of the woods for now." The elder takes a generous gulp of his ale and gestures to an empty place on the bench opposite him. "Sit. Share our meal. All who honour the Gods are welcome in Wansdyke... especially this crazy old man!" He adds with a raucous laugh, shoving Branok's shoulder besides him. "It's been what? Twenty, thirty years now?" "Long enough, old friend." Branok replies with a soft chuckle, running one hand through the smattering of grey atop his balding head. "I try to visit a site like this at least once a year, although it's not as easy on my legs as it used to be. There's usually several godi here at any given time. Many make the pilgrimage or even stay for a season. Tonight is a full moon! Mani will smile upon us."

Kara was slow to join, for surely this was not the nightly ritual here. It was a bit too much like home, and her eyes even misted over a bit, unsure if she should join in or just stand and watch. Branok however clears that up as Gawen and the new one... G?...Gynn? It started with a G she knew. And where did that other female go? And Guthric? Where did everyone get to? Magan was with Theli doing what he could. She shakes her head as she moves to join everyone, knowing that with a growing band meant she could play a lesser role, and go back to supporting Magan in close fights like they had in the past. Though Gawen wasn't too bad, in a fight. Perhaps I should talk a bit more with him.  However distracting her thoughts might be however, it did not change the fact that focusing on the issues before them was important. While picking her seat, close to her companions though trying to not interrupt their conversations, she does listen to their stories. Letting them tell it was quite different, as she had somewhat just charged forward, and did not pay to much attention to the things they had picked up

Gawen smiles and raises his cup to Kara as she joins them, pleased for the opportunity to forget the unpleasant happenings of the past few days, even if only or a moment. "Kara! Our fair wælcyrie , sit and rest! Are Magan and the others still at the mound? I'll go see they're alright, and let them know there are plans for this evening. This is Tucker, a friend of Branok's, he says there is to be a gathering of their circle this evening. And as Branok says, it is a full moon - things can be accomplished under the lleuad llawn that could not be otherwise. With luck things shall go better than the last ritual we attempted!" Turning back to Tucker, he adds, "Before I go see to my companions - has there been any news from the East recently?"

Gann sits eagerly by Gawen's side once invited and then shifts aside to make space for Kara as well. "If it were not for Gawen I would be lost. Ei owe to him." Gann's tired face cracks a smile of appreciation. Gann listens to the jovial exchange between Gawen and the local druid, catching a few references he recognizes. He notes a previous ritual mentioned but decides against intruding on the good spirit of the conversation, more so when Gawen seizes the opportunity to learn news of the far ahead.

Tucker's face grows more solemn for the first time since Gawen met him. "You refer to the man from Rhufain ? They say he has the King's ear, and I can't say I like that. Why do you ask?"

"That's the way we're headed. I'd hoped perhaps our luck would improve as we carry on our way, but I'd agree with you that their influence is unlikely to be good for anyone." Draining his mug, he stands up and attempts to disentangle his long legs from the bench with some difficulty. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I should go check on Magan; make sure him and Theli are alright. Back soon, with any luck." Returning to the bar, he obtains some bread and ale for Magan in case he's unwilling to leave Theli's side, and, ducking under the low lintel of the hall's door, heads out to look for the rest of their group.

Gann awkwardly shifts along his seat to make space for Gawen's massive frame to raise up. Next to the derwydd, the shorter man looks almost a diminutive runt except for the chiseled forearms and bearpaw hands. Gann nods respectfully to Tucker then follows behind. Before leaving the house, he makes sure to look read the periphery of his sight of anyone who might show interest in anything else but his noon meal and ale. He keeps the door ajar enough for Penn to dart outside as well.  Once outside, he lets several questions emerge in his weary mind. Judging from the last half-hearted exchange before Gawen and his old friend parted with, it was neither the place nor the time of day for any of them. "Shall we need anything prepared for tonight?" Gann asks instead.

Walking towards the mound, Gawen replies to Gann, "I have a good mix of herbs and roots with me, but I'll look for fresh this afternoon - fresher always works better. Though the sort of ritual Tucker was talking about might require some form of sacrifice too; I've seen sheep and cattle used to ask for the gods' favour, but something smaller like a hare or fowl might also work. To be honest though I don't know exactly what form it will take. They may do things different here. Something to ask about once we've checked Magan is alright. Speaking of... ah." Now far enough from the hall that the liveliness within it can barely be heard, the mound is peaceful save for the soft rustle of leaves in the surrounding  trees and the intermittent song of a blackbird. The short scraggly grass of the mound itself is deserted save for three figures - Magan on his knees, with Theli on the ground in front of him and Isolde kneeling to one side, clutching Magan's hand in hers. Pausing in his stride, the tall Welshman is hesitant to disturb what looks to be an intimate moment. He glances at Gann, wondering if they should leave them be for the time being, but... if Magan was praying for Theli, the prospect of help might be welcome. Drawing closer, he hears Magan's quiet utterances. Gawen listens for a second, waiting for an appropriate pause in his companion's prayers before softly announcing his presence. "Magan?"

Magan opens his eyes. The harshness of their recent battles and time stuck outdoors is etched across his face in the wrinkles forming around his eyes. He looks tired and close to breaking. He smiles though, pleased to see his friend. "Gawen, will you join me?"

Gann struggles to keep pace along Gawen, his limp still leaden and heavy. "Ei had spent a moon's wide among holy men of Powys . They were kind to me and offered shelter." He lets this trail off, a momentary sadness that is snuffed in an instant. "Ei have witnessed some of the rituals... not many, but Ei felt the spirits reach out and aid them. The wind would calm, and oaks would rustle in their wisdom." He brushes his parched lips with a knuckle. "Whatever the sacrifice would be, Magan will provide it." The thought trails off as Gawen slows by the end of his destination. After Magan greets and beckons Gawen closer from the top of the mound, Gann remains alone at a distance and then steps back to withdraw.

Nodding to Gann, Gawen approaches and rests his hand on Magan's shoulder for a second before kneeling next to him. He stays silent for a moment, preserving the peaceful atmosphere, before asking, "How is she?"

"The same." Magan says, looking over her. "You think being here will help?" 

"Branok found an old friend of his. He says they will gather here tonight under the full moon and do what they can for her. Until then, she can rest." Gawen glances at Magan's weathered face. He looks tired. "If you want to take Isolde to get some food, I can watch Theli for now."

Gloyn stands from her watchful position nearby as the others join Magan and Theli, she quickly trots over and listens intently. "The healers are coming this eve? I should very much like to witness the gathering and learn what I can from them. I can also stay with Theli should you need to tend to the child, Magan. Or if you prefer to stay with your woman, I can tend to the little one. "

Gann bends his good knee and with a huff, he settled down by the base of the mound not afar from its entrance. His rough matted hands run through the cold, damp soil and the grass provides a welcome carpet of softness. The burn in the leg has almost gone unbearable again and it needed to rest. Idly registering the voices that come from above, his mind is lured by the distant song of a blackbird. As eyes follow the crawl of clouds across the bleak sky, he falls asleep almost immediately. 

Magan shakes his head. "I appreciate it, and would welcome the company, but I will not leave either of them now."

Gawen nods, and puts the food that he brought down by Magan's side. "I understand. There's some food here should you want it." Turning to Gloyn, he says, "Aye. That's what Branok's friend - Tucker - said. They're both inside still - I'll head back in shortly, see what I can do to help prepare. But there's no rush. I'll stay out here for a moment longer."

Magan nods his thanks. Gratitude etched across his face. He sits more comfortable and picks up the plate, taking small amounts of food himself, but mostly giving it to Isolde. 

Kara stays and enjoys the warmth and good food, glad for it all after the last few hard days. She still felt off, and had that lingering question that Gawen had posed to her, but after a few minutes she would ask,  "Friends, while I am gladden by your welcome of us, perhaps one of you skilled in the healing arts can at least look at her? I fear our leader is not exactly at peace until he has it she will be fine. And your priestess of Freya, I would like to speak with her afterwards if possible, but for more of a personal reason."  Her accented words would come across a bit stilted and halting, clearly it was not her native language.

Tucker slides down the bench closer to Kara with a slice of cheese in his hand, and blows some air out from under his bushy moustache. "Branok said that she's already stable? I can find you somewhere warm to lie her down, but this man here has as skilled an eye as anyone here. There may not be much more to be done until the circle gathers." Nevertheless, the old man rises and indicates for Kara to lead him to Theli. "Wansdyke doesn't actually have a temple to any one Goddess," he explains as they walk. "All the Gods are honoured here, and many wise men and women gather here to pay their respects. Perhaps this evening you will find what you seek."

As the group gathers at the base of the hill, Gloyn's eyes land upon Gann sleeping nearby and she notices the angry red color of his wound and the profuse sweat gathering upon his brew despite the chill in the air. When he wakes she would need to tend to that, purge his body of any infections. She also spends some time examining the others of the group and notices one of the hounds of the Pict seem to be whimpering and favoring a wound. The hound is constantly licking the wound and she spots the telltale sign of pus as the dog seems to gag as it licks the wound. She approaches Guthric and offers her healing skills to clean the wound and bandage it properly. "It is a painful process for the beast, if you can keep him calm I will do what I can do aid your animal. I do not wish to see anything succumb to an infection. It is a terrible process for any living creature. Will you help me?"

Kara frowns as they walk, leading Tucker to where she last knew of Theli and Magan to be.  "Thank you for checking. I trust the old man, but hearing some one else say someone is fine is different. You are a... not known person to Magan. That should help when you say she is improving."  Her broken mastery of the language is clear as she struggles to give thanks. She was curious to why they did not have a temple to any one god however, and even asks about it. "To not send doubt on Branok, but he mentioned one of you could help with something my companions notice when I fight, and yet you have no one dedicated to Freya? I am not wise on the ways outside of hers, and even then I fight more in her name than I preach for her. But you have faith a priestess will be here?"  After a short walk however, they would arrive at the hill where it seemed most the party was gathered.

Guthric had fed his hounds meat and broth since they arrived. For too long on travels, they made do with small game, but having prepared food was truly a luxury. Still, the wounded hound needed more than hearty food. Glöyn's offer was more than welcome, and Guthric whistled and waved the hound over. He caressed the large head in his equally-large hands and touched his forhead to his packmate's, "You're still hurting, but you don't slow down. You are part of us, and we will not leave you behind. I need you to hold still. Come," he sits and pats his thighs, "Lay your head here and let her look at you." The hound complies readily, and the Pict motions for Glöyn to proceed while holding the dog's head with a firm, caring grip.

"I know little of fighting," Tucker admits with a laugh, "but I know the gods. The world is a weave of paths trodden by their power, and this place is a crossroads. It draws the the wise like a beacon, and sometimes, if you're very lucky, you'll see something truly miraculous. All here know your Freya, just as we know Woden, Thor and Heimdallr. Do not fear. You will find what you seek." When they reach Magan, Theli and Isolde, Tucker crouches besides them. "May I see her?"

Magan looks to Branok before nodding his consent and making room by Theli's side. The fight seems gone from the man, and he shudders a little as he sits back, wrapping his cloak around his knees. 

Tucker lays a hand over Theli's brow and inspects the dressing around her throat. "Skilled work, as always," he remarks in Branok's direction. " She's too cold out here, and so are you. Come warm yourselves by the fire. Have some stew. When the moon rises, we'll see what is to be done."

Magan nods, emotionally beyond arguing even if he wanted to and follows as Tucker leads the way. 

Gloyn glances up as the others begin to gather up Magan and Theli to bring them closer to the fire. She ruffles the fur of Fang and nods to Guthric, holding up a finger to indicate giving her a moment. She walks over and gently shakes Gann awake from his fitful sleep. "Gann, wake. The others are heading into the warmth of the fire. I can see you are hot with fever again. You need rest, join the others below. I must help this one's dog, but then I will see to you. In the meantime, drink water and eat something if you can. Stay warm, I will purge the infection. Now go." She doesn't want much more time she she rejoins Guthric and begins removing several dried herbs from her pouch as well as a stone mortal/pestle. She grinds the dried herbs into a fragrant mess and mixes in a milky looking liquid and contains to grind until she has a thick, substance which she sets aside. She removes her seax as she begins to examine the infected wound more closely looking for any gangrenous flesh, which she finds a small flap of skin starting to turn. She points at it and looks to Guthric. "I must cut the rotten flesh away or he will never heal. This will hurt him, but it must be done to help him." She waits until the large man gives her a nod to indicate he is ready to restrain Fang. She wipes some of the substance along the tip and edge of her knife before she begins to go to work, quickly and expertly cutting the bad hunk of skin away as Fang yelps and whimpers, struggling vainly against the strength of his master. Once the cut is complete, Gloyn tosses the hunk of red/green flesh away and removes another small bottle from her herb pouch. She removes the stopper as a very strong, pungent smell fills the air and she pours a small amount of the liquid into the oozing wound. Fang reacts violently as the disinfectant goes to work cleanly out any lingering infection in the wound... effectively, but painfully. She then begins to make a bandage from clean wraps in her pack, soaking a pad of bandage in the thick, herbal substance while the other remedies continue their work. She takes the pad and begins to work it into a poultice which is applied directly over the inflammed wound, which is then wrapped tightly with a bandage. "You must keep him from licking and biting the bandage. The medicine must be allowed to work, otherwise the wound will get infected again. Do you understand? The wound will become clean and and the poultice will help heal and alleviate some of the pain, but it may take sometime to take effect. I hope he will be better soon. Now, let us join the other others. I am chilled and could use a warm drink while I look to our other member who has taken ill."

Glöyn had read the signs well. Despite his ability to stand and hobble along, Gann’s forehead has again covered with a slight sheen and his sleep is uneasy, with a hissing wheeze with each breath. Once nudged he wakes with the ingrained instinct of a captured animal, a hand lashing out at the grass for something that isn’t there. He needs a moment to return to the reality of day. “ Ei will go.” , Gann nods then looks at the direction of the mound’s entrance for Guthric and his dogs, but refrains from making any offer of assistance. Taking his time to stand up and follow the group in the distance led by the man Tucker, he maintains a distance behind them. 

Guthric was beside himself. Struggling to keep such a large mastiff in place was a struggle to say the least, but having him finally able to recover in peace was incredible. When it was done, he held the dog's head for a minute and stroked its neck. It's done...it's done, now breath slow. 'Don't touch', she says, it may sting and itch, but it heals.  Before Glöyn can leave, he jumps up and wraps his arms around her, "Thank you. He thanks you too." Guthric whistles to his other hound, and, despite itself, the wounded one comes too, then the three move to join the others by the fire.

Glöyn flinches back, reaching for her warseax as Guthric leaps to his feet and wraps his arms around her, clearly expecting the man to be planning something nefarious while the two of them were--- she freezes when he thanks her and she realizes this was just a friendly expression. "Of course... you are... welcome." She halts in place, and spends longer than she needs collecting her supplies as Guthric and his hounds heads towards the buildings. She had joined these men, assuming their were cut-throat bandits in the hopes she could use them to get what she needed, but... the longer she spent with them, the more she was coming to realize there was much more to them, a deepness she did not initially appreciate. Perhaps there could be more here... she thinks back to all the years in the wilderness, always on the run, never trusting anyone and she feels a tingle run through her body, but then she thinks back to the one time she thought they were safe... 'No. Never again.' She steels the cool exterior of Glöyn and gathers her things to join the others. She finds Gann resting near the fire, she tests his forehead and finds the expected heat there. She removes several dried herbs and a few fresher ones from her satchel. The dried herbs she packs into a thin, fibrous cloth and ties it off. The fresh herbs she hands to Gann. "Chew on these leaves, swallow the juice, but do not swallow the leaves. Do so until I return, then discard them." She stands and remembers one other item and removes a small hunk of root. She leaves Gann to chew on the leaves as she seeks out a mug or cup of boiled water to steep the packet and root in. She returns shortly with a sort of tea, it smells very strongly and not all together pleasantly. "Spit out the leaves, drink this. It is bitter, but it should help purge the fever and the infection. Drink it all before it gets cold." With that she finds a seat close to the fire, leans her spear against her leg, and lets her head roll back slightly as she settles in for the wait...

Several hours pass while the travellers wait out the afternoon in anticipation of the meeting of the Wansdyke circle that evening. Everyone is offered a place by the hearth while Gann sweats out whatever has been ailing him and Theli gets some warmth through her. Eventually, darkness falls and Tucker comes to fetch them, now dressed in hooded white robes. "It is time," he declares simply, and two other men in similar clothing enter behind him. The move towards Theli, with the intent to lift her from the ground. Outside the low hum of chanting can be heard from the direction of the mound, and firelight flickers from within. Here and there others can be seen, dressed in the same white robes and heading towards the mound.

Last among the newcomers, Gann hobbles into the building. He takes a moment to read the local crowd then makes way to where Gawen looms head above all. The smell of food assaults him stronger than before, and hunger pierces through his stomach and leaves jittery weakness in his weary joints. Cautiously, exchanging simple greetings and genuine words of gratitude, he is passed a warm bowl a large chunk of bread. He eats ravenously, soaking the bread and helping himself with rough hands, only taking occasional pause to breathe heavily due to his nasal impediment. He takes his time before he approaches for seconds and repays the kindness with a conversation with the woman by the fire, calmly nodding to her drawn story. At least, until she is interrupted by Glöyn’s approach and he withdraws with a full bowl. “ Ei will, Glöyn .” Gann responds to her care with few words and polite obedience, chewing on the leaves as ordered once his vicious appetite empties another bowl. He observes her from his place by the hearth as she diligently labors to steep and boil the roots.  Such a strong woman, and yet besieged by her strength. No surprise she saw my gratitude for an insult. , he ponders.  At least she has an honorable purpose, one to guide her spirit.  The last thought caused the leaves in his mouth to taste bitter than they do.  He glanced aside when Glöyn turns and for a moment his mindset upon Magan’s weary face. Gann recalls his conversation with the man and the way it had abruptly ended. He had no doubt his honesty had brought his chances to naught, but at the moment he was among people who staggered with loss and scar, not any band of mercenaries. He tried to remember that while he observed silently Magan. Gann had experienced the hammering blows or pain and loss for so long that it had become routine reminder he was still among the living, but how others dealt with loss had always enthralled him. Gann wonders about it as he spits, then drinks the contents of the cup by Glöyn’s order.  Gann dozed off for short streaks of time despite the lively noise in the room. As time passed, the soft burn in his damaged leg had subsided completely, offering an almost forgotten relief. Gann would only liven up to give faint rub across Penn’s muzzle as dog lazily checked on him looking for scraps and the stew-stained fingers were a tasty lick. Though he tried to focus, conversations sounded distant and obscured for him to focus before dozing off again.

Magan doesn't move to stop the men taking Theli, but quietly follows to the circle gathering on the mound. 

The moon shines bright overhead, like a giant disc of shining silver poised amongst the heavens. Closer to the mound the many voices of the circle can be heard recanting segments of the edda . Tucker leads the way inside and Theli is lain in the centre of the chamber, atop a table hewn from the stone beneath.

Gawen has to bend low to enter the mound, following behind Tucker. He wasn't overly familiar with the worship that took place here, but the sense of ritual here was not at all dissimilar to the worship that took place back in Glywysing. He stands (as much as he is able) behind Tucker, curious to witness this unfamiliar rite, and ready to aid in any way he could.

Kara, always one to get ready and join into any ritual that would bring her closer to Freya watches with excitement, having cleaned up, and even pulled a dress from her belongings, just to appear more formal, though the shield and sword gave away her standing as a warrior. Still, she had cleaned up a bit, and even bathed, braiding her hair along with Isolde, keeping the child busy somewhat to cheer her while Magan sat in his depressed state. 

The nine members of the circle can be seen stood around the edges of the mound's interior. They step forwards and raise their arms as they chant. Overhead, moonlight pierces the darkness, shining through a tiny hole in the top of the hillock, illuminating Theli where she lies upon the stone table. The chanting mounts in volume, calling upon Woden, Donar, Frija, Ziu, Palter and Heimdallr, and the moonlight warms like silver turning to gold. Kara feels something inside her resonate with the growing power, and Theli lets our a sudden sharp gasp as the light strikes her.

As Glöyn stands to join the others for the ritual, she notices Gann still sleeping and she walks over to rouse the power man. "Gann, wake thee. Come! The ritual is nigh! I wish to see the healers work their magics, it is an exciting moment." For quite possibly the first time since meeting the young woman, he can sense an eagerness to her voice and the slight beginnings of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Despite the dourness of the gathering, Glöyn's steps are light and springy as she excitedly follows the others towards the hillock. As the ritual begins, she watches with wide eyes, the bright green of them standing out in the bright moonlight. When Theli gasps she immediately looks around, catching the eyes of Gawen to see if something feels amiss to him... Surreptitiously she tightens one hand around the hilt of her warseax, prepared to cut down the nearest member of the circle should any of them prove traitorous.

Gann wakes up with a jolt of coiled instincts, his hand striking at Glöyn's direction and grabs at empty air. The sudden movement draws wary looks from a few people by a nearby table, but at first sign that the two know each other they go back to their drinks and laughter. Even if Gann notices her rekindled enthusiasm, little in his confused state shows. "Ei is coming, you go and be by Magan," Gann exhales, helping himself by a nearby bench to stand up from the ground. Trailing behind her, he limps between the tables and washes his senses in the cold fresh air outside before turning towards the moonlit mound where the voices have joined in an echoing chant. Halfway towards the mound, his uneasy gait slows down and comes to a stall at about thirty yards from the gathering. Remember what happened at Polys. The memory stung and snuffed that early seed of curiosity and awe that slowly grew inside him. He still approaches but remains at a fair distance behind the rest, avoiding attention upon himself. This is for Magan and his woman. Do not soil the moment. You mean no harm. Though the burn in his bad leg had subsided to warm coal of pain, he wished he had a stick to lean on.

Kara had tried her best to stay to the side, having little information outside of her own Goddess. But everytime they went to Freya, she could not help but mutter a prayer. Something in her called out to the power, and while she did not understand what or why it did, she struggled to guide it. Having no idea how to, she does what she always did, and prayed. She could swear Freya was the one answering the prayers, not to dismiss the others called for, but if asked, she would swear it was due to the grace of Freya, for she solely knew something was present. She was still armed, and was happy to be so, for sometimes calling to power something must be given. She went somewhat to the back, a clear away from the circle that she would raise no alarm of those in the circle, and those who knew would clearly see what it was. She knew Helgi would not harm her as others, and so she would call Helgi forth, slicing the blade across her palm with a wince of pain and prayer to Freya, that blood given freely as sacrifice was sometimes the best medicine. She then would move back to the group of her now companions, and would await what came next. Perhaps soon the gasp would be explained.

Gawen can feel the land resonating with the divine power emanating from above, like a confluence between heaven and earth. He watches Theli carefully, keen to see how this power is channeled or adjured.

The chanting eases, and the golden aura infusing the moonlight recedes with it. Theli's breathing seems to normalise, her chest steadily rising and falling, no longer shallow and laboured. A murmur goes up around the interior of the mound as Kara ignites Helgi's blade, and several of the other onlookers turn and stare, muttering amongst themselves. Who was this tall northerner and what magic had she brought amongst them? As the ceremony comes to an end, two of those from the circle come close and reach out to Theli, first helping her to sit upon the table, and then to stand. Meanwhile, another turns away and immediately approaches Kara. "My girl," she says. Beneath the white hood a bevy of golden curls can be seen framing the face inside. "What is your name?"

Gann reacts to the sudden unsheathing of bright light and he freezes into place, his mouth agape. While others may be accustomed to the power of the Æsir granted upon chosen mortals, he had never seen anything like it. He remembers Kara and her towering stature, and in hazy recollections, he remembers himself bowing in respect to the image on her shield, but he never imagined... My eyes can't deceive to me. Great spirits of this land, proud ancestors of mine, what power is this? He breathes heavily as takes in every detail of this momentous occasion, as Kara approaches the druids.

Kara blinks, unsure of why those gathered thought a bit of blood strange. However, it was most likely due to their confusion about what she had intended with her sword. Which was understandable. Not everyone could be expected to know her blessings from Freya, and unless seen in combat, there was not really any point in her using them. This eased her mind some, and she would put Helgi back once she had sliced her hand. The blood would stop after some point, a small splashing of blood to the ground before it stopped. Afterwards, with the hooded woman approached, Kara bows her head. Keeping her tone respectful, for she was unsure the woman's age, but guessed she was an elder somewhat, since she was apart of the circle. " I am called Kara Olmsdottor. I travel with the woman you have healed. May Freya bless you greatly for your efforts."

"Freya..." the woman echoes, "the goddess that you call Freya, our people know her as Frija. You may call me Ædelflæd, Kara Olmsdottor. You carry a relic of great power, may I see it?" She holds out a hand for Kara to pass Helgi to her.

Kara frowns, not because she was asked to hand over her sword, but because this played a scene back in her mind, of someone previously attempting. She then says, while handing over the hilt, "Be warned Elder  Ædelflæd, another has already tried to bring Helgi out, and was unable. Do not think if you fail this as a mark of ill will by Freya, but more as the sword itsself seems to have a personality. She is like... like.. delicate butter".  Kara's grasp of the native tongue still not the best, but her intentions and motions were as friendly as could be for one who brings justice forth for a higher purpose.