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[of_bokthersa]

It's already dark by the time you arrive. It's not the best of situations, but there were other things you had to look into. Things that hadn't boded well when you'd been there. Lips get loose when with a good drink and good entertainment is around; it's why you have several of this particular persona. It seems there's been a lot more activity in the north than you would have liked to hear. It's easy to surmise what they're doing. Take the north, take the Gold Road and they fill their coffers with untold riches to fund them in the war. No, that didn't bode well at all.

Which was why you were here, to find out just how far north they'd gotten. Asengai was the last stop before you headed for Wolde to meet up with Micum and head back south the Skala to give your report. Just in case you start making a mental note of your surroundings and where you've set up camp for the past few days, committing them to memory before heading off to the large keep. Hopefully, Asengai is fond enough of bards that you'll be able to get enough information to be out of here by morning.

You hadn't counted on Asengai immediately imprisoning you under the charge of your being a spy. He's not wrong, but that doesn't make the situation any more fortuitous. Even so, you have to play your part, so you curse and struggle, fight and protest. The light shifts to complete blackness as they drag you into the dungeon chamber.

"Unhand me, you cretinous brutes!" You make sure to remember the lisp that you'd decided on and continue to protest. "I demand to see your master! How dare you arrest me! Can't an honest bard pass unmolested through this country?"

You throw a less than accurate swing at one of the guards. If you were trying, you probably could have done some damage, but you're not. You're still Rolan, and Rolan isn't a fighter. So you let them beat you, heckling you about what will happen when you finally do meet Asengai. Torture, of course.

They drag you to the wall and manacle your hands and feet, and for the first time, you notice movement across from you. Someone's there. You don't say anything, it's not the right time. Once they finally leave, however, you're free to assess the situation.

"Who's there?" You ask, keeping to the role you're in. The other doesn't answer, and you have to squint in the scant moonlight to see anything. Of course, he'd push himself further into the shadows. Make the job harder for you. From what you can tell by the light of the moon it seems to be a young man, but you can't make out his features. You're about to open your mouth to say something when the door opens again.

Comments

[of_bokthersa]

I'll have to learn of it so I can compose a suitable ballad for you then.

[ragnarsson]

I shall tell you of it anytime. I'm not so skilled a storyteller as my mentor is, but I can at least make it interesting.

[of_bokthersa]

The facts are always best when composing a story or ballad of someone's accomplishments.

[ragnarsson]

Good. The facts of my life will make for tale that will be sung of for long after I am dead.

[He's an arrogant little thing, but most of it is pure bluster. Underneath it all, Ivar has a very fragile self-image.]

[of_bokthersa]

That is the hope. But first I would need to know a bit about you.

[ragnarsson]

[He needs no further prompting to tell of his accomplishments.]

I'm the son of the greatest Viking king that ever lived, Ragnar Lothbrok. I was the youngest of his five sons and expected to inherit nothing since I was both the last and a cripple. Instead, I have led the largest Norseman army ever formed, and become a king in my own right.

[of_bokthersa]

Ah, but how did you become so great?

[ragnarsson]

Ever heard of a warrior that couldn't walk and still fought in battles?

[Ivar had earned his reputation fair and square, that much was clear.]

[of_bokthersa]

But what began this glory of yours?

[It's difficult to pull this out of him.]

[ragnarsson]

[Indeed, pinning Ivar down is a tricky feat not easily done. Finally, he answers.]

The death of my father. He wanted me to be more than just the cripple everyone else saw me as.

[of_bokthersa]

And so what did you do?

[ragnarsson]

I did the last thing he told me. 'Be ruthless.' And from there I have accomplished everything else.

[of_bokthersa]

And what does ruthlessness mean to you?

[ragnarsson]

Doing whatever it takes to achieve what I want.

[He's taken the words to heart, as the trail of bodies and destroyed English countryside can attest to.]

[of_bokthersa]

I see.

I'm afraid that 'This young man has done anything he must to attain kingship while overcoming hardship' doesn't exactly expound on your bravery and what you've done.

It's very short for a ballad of your life.

[ragnarsson]

It's been a short life thus far. I plan to do far more before all is said and done.

[of_bokthersa]

I would assume so.