EXCOLO

{?}
{Valda’s Cottage}

Shaking, always shaking inside.

It’s been…time. I remember, but…I can see the dream flying, and I’m too slow to catch it.

I thrash my head from side-to-side. “Swina bqllr!” If I could just remember what actually happened, then this would all make sense. Kicking the door open, I grab a bottle of whatever passes for homebrew in this forsaken existence.

I poisoned a girl, sure. But my patron had her pegged as an oath-breaker, someone this world is better off without. But quickly after delivering the poison, there were rumblings. Angry rumblings. I shrugged them off, they happen in my line of work. As I made my evening offerings to Frejya, I mentioned them, more out of habit than concern.

Silence. I never minded silence, but this was filled with blatant indifference rather than stillness. After a week of offerings, I received a response. I, formerly most beloved by Frejya, most feared of all Valkyerie, was sent a message from The Trickster; he whom those in Valhalla abided because they were forced.

“What do you want, Loki?” I inquired, not bothering to hide the ice or contempt I felt from my voice.

“Frejya wishes me to remind you that you are human.” he replied.

I threw my hands around me. “Why else would I be banished to re-live a life on this forsaken land?!” I screeched. “I was loved and feared whilst I lived, and I had no regrets about giving up that life. Why would I care now; 2,000 years later?!”

“Frejya wishes me to remind you that you are human.” Was all he replied.

“Why?! So she can remind me that the only thing I was ever good at was retaliation? I’ve been doing that! I have chests of gold to prove my worth! Why does she not let me back?!” My anger reaches such heights that I believe for one moment I’m once again touching the minds of those surrounding my Beloved Goddess…Hermóðr, Týr, Víðarr, and all the others who deal with warrior-kind and death. The moment fades, and again I feel the all encompassing abyss of nothingness that my Beloved has left me to rot in.

I turn back to my unwelcome guest. “Frejya no longer cares for my sake, or my well-being. I continue to do her my diligence at the Altar, as is my duty and pleasure.” I make sure to hiss the final words from my mouth, to remind him that no human has ever nor will ever show him the same love and respect that comes naturally to all the other gods and goddesses.

I turn on my heel back into my house, but before I make it to the door, he grabs my elbow and pulls me close.

“Frejya wishes me to remind you that you are human.” And then, like breath on an icy morning, he is gone...and I am left to contemplate that statement. I am human now. I have maintained the same life I had while I actively served Frejya, I see no difference. Well, aside from the fact that I choose my marks now…

Knowledge settles in my stomach like a greased mace. “I am human…” I whisper to the Darkness that expands before my eyes.

I open the whiskey from my cupboard, sit back into the comfy chair on my porch, and wait. The bottle is steady in my hands, as is my breathing. My mind races…Whose followers have I killed, since I was forced to be human again? Whose wrath will I have to endure?

Allowing myself to give in to my humanity for a moment, I whisper “I always hated the waiting.”

{closed...?}

[Tavern of Hell]
[evening]

As the sun began its slow descent into the western sky, I made my decision. I walked from my cottage into town, fully intending on drinking myself into oblivion. Of course, I’d made arrangements to stay at the Inn first. There was no way I could ride Destrier home after the kind of drinking I intended on doing, and I’m too possessive of my precious stallion to trust his care to anyone else. I’ve raised him from a foal, and though he doesn’t realize it, his bloodlines for almost 100 generations have been under my gaze. He is absolute perfection…and the closest I have to a child of my own. Even if he is a shallow and gluttonous bastard, willing to make new friends of any sort, as long as they are supplied with sugar cubes.

I walk through the doors of the Tavern, and pull up chair in an out-of-the way table. When an employee finally makes their way over to me, I pull out another of the gold coins that fill numerous chests hidden throughout my home and the surrounding trees. “Will you accept this as payment? I haven’t been in Excolo long, and I’m not familiar with your currency.”

The need to validate my gold, the precious gold pieces that are one of my last connections to my Frejya, my Mistress, is held out for the employee’s inspection. I never anticipated trouble using gold as currency, but Zann and Ri both looked at me peculiary when we had our breakfast together, so I wonder if counterfeiters run rampant in Excolo. Of course, explaining where I got such coin would mean admitting that I am no farmer, and only a midwife in times of peace…and there hasn’t been a need for that in my life for almost 300 years.

The employee takes my coin without ever breaking eye contact, and simply asks “And what’ll you have?”

I grin, and reply “A shot of your most potent potion, and a healthy pint of mead to wash it down.” As they walk away, I look down at my attire. I feel undressed, but the High Priestess was right, wearing this skirt does make me feel like I blend in more; rather than my usual leathers, which seem to serve as a call to battle; at least lately they do. Although, a skirt does pose other problems…mostly figuring out how to sit without showing the rest of the bar patrons the small jewel Frejya ornamented me with, to prove my fealty. I snort as my drinks are brought to me. Fat lot of good that ring and jewel do me now. My goddess has left me to learn to be human.

Well, fie on her. If she really loved me, she’d save me from this hell of humanity. I motion to the server for another round. Thank the Deities-at-large that I have the gold to pay for this…

[open to Liam]
[closed]

[Evening]
[Silk Road]

As Destrier and I make our way down Silk Road, a stately gentleman waves at us from in front of an elegant home. Intrigued, I turn Destrier, and the man approaches.

His face is weathered but handsome, and his smile has a certain edge to it. This is not just a man born into wealth and power; this is a man who has waged battles for his power. Not some gaudy, flowering prince, but a warrior who still manages to exude charm. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but it isn’t every day a beautiful woman rides past on an actual charger.” He nods at Destrier, and continues. “He’s a beautiful animal.”

I keep my voice even toned, and carefully neutral. “Thank you.” His gaze returns to me, and he continues.

“I wonder if you would join me inside? I have a certain matter I would like to discuss with you.” He doesn’t even wait for me to respond before turning and heading back towards the fashionably crafted front door. I clench my teeth, anger rising at his audacity to completely disregard me and the stupidity of turning your back on an unknown opponent. I fight to regain my composure. “I’m afraid you must be mistaken. If you are looking for a companion,” I hiss, “I believe you’re better off at the Follow-Me-Boy.”

He turns, the sunlight glinting of his well made clothing, apparently decorated with gold thread from the way the light hits it. He nods at me approvingly, before continuing. “My dear, while the thought of you is indeed a pleasurable one,” he croons as he apparently reassesses me, this time not trying to hide his lust, “I was hoping we could discuss my procurement of your other services.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a farmer, and formerly a midwife. So unless you plan on giving birth…” I smile as his face tightens. For all his dominance and charm he is a vain one, and much like every specimen of attractive male in power that I’ve encountered, the insult to his pride, no matter how blatantly untrue, is not met with humor. I wink coquettishly, pleased with his predictability.

He re-approaches me, much more authoritative this time. “My lady, a woman who rides warhorse and whose musculature, though hidden through your leathers…” as he speaks he begins to trace one of his hands over my leg and up my thigh, “…marks herself as a warrior. And I promise to make this assignment worth your while.” His voice is low, almost inaudible. His touch ignites a fire not of passion in me, so as he again walks back to his home, I swing off Destrier, and follow the gentleman inside to his study.

[Open]
[closed]

[Valda’s Cottage]
[Saturday Evening]

I know what I have to do. It’s simple, really. Just reach out…only a few inches, even a child could do this. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and slowly release it as I lean forward, arms outstretched…almost..have them…

As my fingers curl around the last of the split wood I spent the better part of the day hauling in from my woodpile outside, the familiar pull beginning again in my back. I grit my teeth, knowing it’s about to become worse. I manage to gently set the final pieces on top and close the woodbox before the searing heat rips through my body, and I collapse to the ground. A pox on this useless human body! A mere day’s labor, and I’ve worked it to the point of exhaustion and excruciating pain. I lay on the floor, soaked in my own freezing sweat, and wait for the pain to subside enough so I can move. I crawl toward the small room that sits to one side of my cabin…just large enough for a potbellied stove and a copper bathtub. Thankfully I had the foresight to fill the tub with hot water before I began hauling in the rest of the wood. I grab the liniment I use on Destrier’s legs after a hard day, and a bottle of whiskey. Half the liniment goes into the hot water and the smell of witch hazel, chamomile, and cayenne pepper wafts up with the steam. Smiling, I pour a healthy glass of whiskey for myself, and before I recork the bottle, I pour some into the bath as well.

For the first time since my breakfast in Excolo, I begin to relax. I think it went well, but everything was just so…strange. While I’m certain no-one uses the formal hand gestures that are second nature to me, Ri and Zann looked surprised when I tried to offer my hands in that wiggling gesture I thought was acceptable as I left. And the expression on Ri’s face when I gave her the initial payment for my tattoo… distrust? Does she think I would cheat her out of her due? Has she been given forged gold before? A strange, aching sensation seems to swallow me from the inside. While Conley seems to be nothing more than a simpering, lascivious boy; Ri and Zann were amiable companions. And when Zann spoke of the Carnival in that melodious and frightening way…

Friends are hard to come by when one spends their life settling debts the cruel have inflicted on those they seek to dominate. But even if we are not meant to be friends, if I am meant to wander this existence alone practicing my art, it would be nice to know that they thought of me as honorable.

Finishing my whiskey, I close my eyes and sink further into the water. I’ll have to tell them how I came by that gold.

[closed]

Morning
Miskatonic Cafe

A quiet rumble rouses me enough to wake. Keeping my eyes closed as I continue lying on my belly, I try to locate it's source, while slipping my fingers around the hilts of my swords, still in their resting places under my feather pillows. My grip tightens, and I prepare to spring...

Oh.

Letting go of the swords, I wipe the crust of sleep and drool from my face as my stomach begins to protest it's lack of food with renewed vigor. Muttering curses under my breath, I throw back the covers, instantly regretting the decision. No warming spells...DAMMIT!! I take a few minutes to prepare myself for the battleground my body has quickly become, before hurtling out of bed and dressing in record time.

I stumble to the kitchen, and begin opening cupboards. Plenty of stored vegetables, some fruit, and I know my preserved meat is safe... But the idea of cooking for myself again, especially after getting to spend the past months eating at dining houses and being fed by the cooks at the temple has spoiled what little patience I had for the task. The fact that my coffee canister is also empty strengthens my resolve.

Surely there's somewhere in Town open and serving people food? I think I remember seeing something called the Miskatonic Cafe...I think I'll try there.

The trip into town doesn't take nearly as long on horseback. Hopefully Destrier will mind his manners outside waiting for me.

[open to anyone at the Miskatonic]
[closed]

[Tuesday]
[Late Night]

Shivering violently, I manage to keep myself upright long enough to make it to my bedroom and crawl between my sheets. I barely remember to kick my boots off first, and don’t bother to put my blades away; for now they’ll remain under my pillow, within easy reach. The basic spell I had the witch weave to keep dust and debris out of my cottage seems to have worked; the sheets feel as though I’d just slept in them last night instead of 3 months ago. As I curl up tighter, I mutter a curse at myself for not thinking to have asked for a warming spell in there too.

The letter is still where I left it on my bedside table. After returning from my foray into town and spending a few hours drinking at the Tavern, I came home to find it tucked delicately between the tusks of the golden boar statue that keeps guard beside the gate to my cottage. I remember bristling at first, having only just returned from my first trip into town, I wasn’t anxious to disappear again…but when I saw the Feoh stamped into its golden-red wax, scented with black pepper, basil, and pine; I knew the summons could not be ignored. Only a Priestess of Freyja’s would use that wax and seal, and even they know better than to call upon me…unless the need is dire. The thought of a Priestess of my Mistress being in danger filled my blood with icy rage.

That was months ago. Now, thanks to months of planning and subterfuge, the Priestess and her journeymaids were safe. The former leader of the Gangland town was dead, along with his highest ranking Captains; and the Priestess’ grandson, a handsome man with a face weathered by the sea and piracy he loves so much, had taken over as Leader of this strange place. With his protection, the temple and it’s inhabitants were safe, and the Pirate Prince, as this grandson is known, now owes me a favor.

I smile as sleep finally washes over me. I do so love it when men owe me favors.

[closed]

Day 68, Friday August 7th, Noon


It's been a while since I settled in Excolo.  Or actually, outside of Excolo.  I honestly don't think anyone knows I'm here.

I took the dogs out this morning for a run.  Pigby, the little runt, continued to remind me why I gave him that name when he found a vein of truffles this afternoon.  It's really too bad I don't care for cooking.  Other than stews and pasty, which I admit is stew in a pie crust, I never bothered to learn how it was daddy's cooks made all those delicious treats.  I wonder if anyone in town would want them?

Town...I really can't avoid it any longer.  My apothecary jars are packed to the brim, as are the canisters in my pathetic excuse for a kitchen.  The horses and dogs don't care about Mint, or Sakix Alba, or Valerian root in their food, so there's no one left around here to use it.  But selling it in town means that I must first go into town.  And meet people.  They'll know I don't fit in.

My clothes will be different, they'll be suspicious if my hair isn't right.  What if the women are supposed to wear that paste on their faces?  I've never worn that!  They'll know I don't belong here...they'll shun me.  I won't know their customs, their etiquette...what if I offend someone?  What if it's someone of importance?  Are they still burning people at the stake?  I always preferred beheadings to burnings...there just seemed to be more dignity and honor.  It's more of a warrior's death than a public torturing.

At long last, I make my decision.  I must go to town.  But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.

What am I going to wear?

[CLOSED]