[ ] Introduce yourself as...
- [ ] The song-smith of the north, weaver of verses and skald of skill.


A moment flashes past, one of judgement and doubt entwined into one. Thoughts race through your mind, wondering whether you should seek to find the answer she must be looking for, or whether you should tell her what you feel in your heart. Perhaps these are one and the same, perhaps not.

Still, Sons of Odin are not ones to hesitate, and in a sudden flash of insight you choose which one among the many titles you could claim you should choose. Silver tongue unbound, song forged with wit and skill, tale told truly, these do you bring with you, for no other skill is as great as the stave-smithing.

You stand tall and proud, you face the guardian of this strange town, and you sing.

"Hail, glorious guardian, you who would know the one who now stands before her.
Hail, listen to the words, tangled tale untwisted when silver togue speaks.
Listen, you loyal thane who would stand before your hearth and home,
You who would shield the town of spellbound realm, hear honour's voice.

Ask, you who stand sentinel o'er hold and hearth, ask him of his deeds and daring,
Question, you who would wish to know him, answers aright he does as Odin bids.
Wonder, true-hearted thane, what warrior stands before you, know he is a tale-weaver,
Hear his deeds and name, those both who mark a man for judgement, who weigh his worth."

You pause for a brief moment, for dramatic effect as well as for a quick breath, then you catch the trusty thane's gaze with your own and you speak again, power flowing over your tongue and into your words.

"Listen, for one who stands before you is Sigurd Thorgrimson, son of Odin, song-smith.
Verses he weaves, staves of skill summoned when tongue tells truth, as when fable is fashioned.
His is wit and wisdom, well-versed with praised poems he sings staves smithed by skalds of yore.
Words he wields, warrior of blade and song, when glory is greatest he is its author or witness."

There is silence as you let the words end. In the eyes and expression of the great guardian you can find slight

bafflement mixed with a hint of lingering suspicion. Not a woman whose trust is won with words alone, this guardian.

"Hah! What'd I tellya -ze?" The black-white witch wonders while slowly sauntering to the side of the taller woman, mischief evident from the forest witch's features. "Isn't he really awesone, hey Keine? Isn't he -ze?"

If she is annoyed by Marisa's prodding, the woman called Keine hides it well, instead turning back to you and bowing slightly.

"Welcome, Mr. Thorgrimson." She tells you, though not without difficulty when it comes to your father-given name. "Or, owing to the similarity in our family names, I suspect that you perhaps prefer to use your first name?"

"Sigurd shall suffice for song-smith's name, O stalwart shield-thane." You answer her, for no further need in truth do you see for names and titles to adorn yourself with.

"Then, please call me Keine." She replies with a warm, though slightly wry smile, "After all, I have no formal title, and no wish to force every outsider who comes knocking mispronounce my family name all the time."

"Hey hey, now that we're aquainted an' all, we gotta tell you of our great adventures -ze. Y'wouldn't believe how awesome we're when we team up." Marisa interjects, this time managing to visibly sour the mood of the azure-maned thane.

"As for you," The great guardian slowly says while turning on the black-white witch. "You will remain quiet until spoken to, and you will address your teacher with respect."

"Eh? What's that 'bout -ze?" The forest witch wonders, scowling slightly at the guardian. Her gaze is met by a cool stare for a second, then the blue-haired thane springs forward in a blur. A sharp crack is heard as she smaskes her forehead into contact with Marisa's, and the forest witch goes down hard.

For a moment you're unsure what to make of this scene, for seldom should a man stand still and watch when violence is offered against his comrades. Yet still, you must admit, that this guardian holds authority in her hall and that the black-white witch often acts as to draw the ire of others. Besides, judging from the way Alice is smiling, it surely cannot be that serious.

"Do I make myself clear?" Keine grimly asks the fallen witch, who groggily drags herself to her feet while mumbling something.

"What was that?" The guardian again asks, the tone of her voice leaving no uncertainty about the answer she is expecting.

"Yes, Miss Kamishirasawa." The black-white witch meekly replies, an truly uncharacterictic response from the fiery emotions you have come to expect.

"Don't you think that I've read the news?" The shield-thane demands, her anger visibly rising with every word. "Do you have any idea how much you've stirred up the village, or what could have happened if you had killed Lady Yakumo?"

"Um, sorry Miss Kamishirasawa, but I can explain, see..." Marisa replies while giving you a furtive glance. Sighing heavily you resign yourself to the demands of honour and open your mouth to speak.

"Keep down the goddamn racket." A new voice suddenly cuts in before you can spin the word-weave to set things right, this time sounding from above. Looking up you see a wild mane of pure white hair hanging out from a window, obscuring the face behind it. Could this be the third one you saw, the earthbound sun-pyre?

A hearbeat later the figure leaps down from the window and reveals herself to be another young woman of strange yet beautiful appearance, her white hair and blood-red eyes giving off an unearthly aura. Her clothes are odd as well, long red britches and a white shirt all studded with strange paper emblems. Yet despite this strange look, you must admit that the outfit does suit her.

Yet on a second look you can see that all is not well with her. Not only the irises of her eyes are red, the whole sight-orb is bloodshot and she moves as if afflicted by some strange pain. Or rather, she looks like a man who has lingered too long and drunk too well at the ale-feast.

"Um, hey Mokou. How's it rollin' -ze?" The forest witch asks of the white-haired woman, apparently glad to get an excuse to escape from the shield-thane's questioning.

"Got jumped by the bitch and her psycho friend last night." The woman named Mokou replies with a grim smile. "You should see the other guy though."

"You're still working on that excercise is futility?" Alice wonders aloud, her voice slightly amused. As you glance down at your dear dollmaker you see that her lips are curled into a sarcastic smile as well, yet the white-haired woman merely chuckles in reply.

"If it can be done ain't important as long as it's fun trying." Mokou commants after a few moments, then turns her gaze on you.

"Well then, who're you, big guy?" The snow-maned woman wonders, peering up at you with a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as far as you can determine.

"Sigurd Thorgrimson, song-smith of the north." You answer her, reasoning that one in this woman's condition might prefer a shorter, less loud greeting than the one you gave to the village guardian.

"Right, think I heard that much already. Woke me right up you did." Mokou replies wincing slightly as she speaks, obviously suffering from a good headache.

"If so, this song-smith can offer only an apology. Never was it my wish to cause discomfort to any man who did not deserve it." You answer her, for few men deserve a rude awakening after an ale-feast, and you feel as if this woman truly is one who could not be counted among them who do.

"Heh, well said." The white-haired woman replies with a wide grin. "If you feel guilty, you can pay me back with a beer."

"Which reminds me," The white-haired one continues, turning to the two magicians, "I really need a pick-me-up, so what do you all say, up for a party?"

"Mokou!" The shield-thane suddenly protests, "You can't just barge in when I'm beating sense into a fool, and besides, you shouldn't drink so much."

"Shit, Keine, if you'd been through what I've, you'd need a drink too." Mokou replies with a small shrug, "Besides, you can yell at Marisa in the bar."

"Oh, you're just as incorrigible as her." Alice snidely comments, glancing first at the white-haired sorceress, then the black-white witch. "Why must my social circles be filled with drunkards and fools?"

"Beats me, I'm not the one who chooses to hang around with that kind of people." Mokou deftly replies, earning her an amused smile from the dollmaker. Another strange friendship, it seems.

"Bah, do as you want then." Keine interjects, now more annoyed than anything else. In reply, Mokou merely smiles and winks at the thane protector, a gesture that seems to both infuriate and fluster the great guardian.

"Anyway, I'm off. You all come if you want to." The white-maned woman finally concludes, glancing back at you, as if she is waiting for your answer alone.


[ ] Let the snow-maned sorceress lead the way, you shall have your ale no matter who else follows.

[ ] Accept her invitation only if all others agree. Ill would it be to leave a friend behind.

[ ] Decline her offer for now, for you still have matters to discuss with the shield-thane.