Log:SinLore, Part 4

SinLore 2020/07/05 Copycat|Arthur Porter 4

Do you know what's really harsh?

Yes. Precisely. When you are in a hurry to save the world from a time traveling terrorist and your TARDIS-analogue abruptly sends you wildly off-course!

Arthur and Porter find themselves adrift in the midst of the ocean, stranded atop a rather unexpectedly large and flat iceberg. Well, the exposed surface of it is large and flat. There hasn't been time or inclination yet to see what the berg looks like from below.

On the plus side, there are about a dozen large sails approaching from the horizon. Sails mean sailors and sailors mean food, warmth, and a destination that may lead to a way to cause a Quantum Leap out of this time zone that will take our intrepid heroes back onto their proper temporal course of action.

Saving the world? Pfft. Porter's done that.

Time-traveling terrorist? Er, well, he's kind of done that, too.

Adrift? Yep.

Icebergs? Probably.

Warmth? Eh, he has fur!

Sailors? ... They don't eat kittens, do they?

He appraises their current situation and advises Arthur with an astute, evaluated, and summary, "Mrow?"

Arthur is soaked to the bone from their unfortunate appearance above the frigid ocean. At which point, gravity laughed at there being 1.5 Porters in one place and pulled both Arthur and his companion down into the icy waters. As luck would have it, they were able to climb aboard the iceberg.

Unhappily ringing out his drenched scarf, Arthur pulls his fog watch from his pocket. The Fog Watch is his mode of travel across time for the most part, and is secretly the Torus in disguise. "Out of juice for another jump? Come on, there's a temporal terrorist to catch! Don't poop out on me now," he bemoans as he taps the watch face. With a sigh, he slides the watch in his vest pocket and looks down at his brightly colored kitten companion.

"You poor thing, you're positively soaking," he says as he lifts up Jinxy, Porter's disguise while traveling with Arthur. It's at the mrow that Arthur looks up and notices the sails. "Oh, that's promising," he says before giving a wave in their direction.

It takes a while for the ships to arrive in proximity to the iceberg. They started out near the horizon and with the clear skies, human vision can pick out a candle light at 10 miles. Presumably the sails were somewhere in the 10 mile range, but... Distances and visibility can get very strange in situations like this. Just look at all of the witness statements from Titanic survivors that claimed there were ships nearby, but the nearest ships were miles away.

Three of the longboats in the lead of the sailing party smash into the edge of the iceberg with iron-gilded hulls. Ice and snow and debris go flying in all directions, mostly showering Arthur and Porter in the process. Moments later, a dozen or more vikings disgorge themselves from the longboats to land upon the flat iceberg with a loud crunch of boots against hard-packed snow and crackling ice. Axes, swords, and shields are brandished in our heroes' direction by the long-bearded proto-pirates.

Ok, Jinxy -thought- fur was a good thing. That was when he was dry. Now he has to shake, and groom, and he's still cold. And then shivering. Hey! You! Fur! Yes, you, right there. You were just in place a moment ago! Now he has to start all over again. Maybe, if they're lucky (and we all know they are), the sailors will have combs...

Mrp.

Vikings! With axes!

Ha! They MUST have combs! Just look at those beards!

Arthur stumbles as their iceberg is hit, falling on his rear with a wet splatting noise. "Ow." He raises a hand to shield his face from flying ice. It doesn't hurt really, but it seems like it should.

He lowers his hand and blinks as vikings board their iceberg. "Oh. I vastly misjudged when we were," he comments to his kitty-companion. He keeps Jinxy tucked under one arm, and raises the other in surrender. "We mean you no harm!"

By some great stroke of fortune, Arthur's inexplicable luck kicks in with only a small ripple in the timestream. Harmless really. Certainly won't violate causality to cause Arthur and Jinxy to drop into this particular portion of the timestream in the first place. No sir.

"We can see you have no ability to harm us, small man. We can also see that you have no ship to save you from Ran's great net beneath the seas. Njord smiles upon thee though, for our fleet can surely rescue you and your small one from this 'cursed place you find yourselves in," responds a very large man with an intricately braided red beard. He wears heavy hide and fur armor and carries a hulking bearded axe fitted with fine silver filigree on its carved wooden haft.

Arthur squeaks out defensively, "I'm not that small!" Actually, yes, yes he is. Arthur's component donors aren't exactly statuesque. Especially compared to vikings. He lowers his hand after sweeping his mop of brown hair back. "But I do appreciate the timely rescue," he smiles.

"No, no. Not small at all. More like a medium ship rat," scoffs/reassures one of the vikings off to the wings of the crowd on the ice. Porter suspects it's the black-haired man wearing fur and leather armor studded with metal rings. He's not especially burly compared to some of the men around him, but certainly larger than Arthur or Porter.

"These are dangerous times. Do not mind Harrold or his jests. What finds you so ill-equipped for the ice floes, Small Man? Your clothes are strange as well, but I have seen stranger to the south and the west of the Angle Lands. You do not seem much like one of those soft people though."

Pausing for a moment, the red-haired leader(?) regards Arthur seriously. He spins his axe once or twice, deeply considering Arthur before speaking again.

"You will NOT cause trouble for me or my crew. You will enjoy our hospitality as we sail onwards toward the shores of war with the Pale Cinder Queen, yes?"

Arthur strokes Jinxy while also squeezing out his wet fur. "I'm afraid my...ship...sank. Far from here. We've been stuck since. I suppose I will most certainly enjoy your hospitality during your journey to--whaaat?" his words tumble to a stop at the mention of the Pale Cinder Queen.

"I cannot imagine it to have been too far, Small Man. You are still wet from the waters and have not yet frozen to death."

Chuckling, the red-headed man gestures to Arthur and Porter to advance upon the group of vikings and their ships. He turns and moves toward the prow of the center longship, preparing to climb aboard when Arthur goes full Chris Griffin on the conversation. Looking over his shoulder, the red-headed man arches an eyebrow.

"Aye. Unfriendly shores, but we cannot spare the time to sail you back toward home, Small Man. We are a strong warband though. Fully a hundred men strong, joining no less than twelve other like-sized warbands from across the Northern Lands. Saxons, Angles, Danes, six different tribes of Celts. Not even the Golden Spark of War can stand against so many men. Seers, druids, and soothsayers have foretold that we sail toward glory and treasure. Odin himself smiles down upon us. There may even be some Hjadningar warriors joining us to lay her low. Fear not, we will return you to your native lands one day."

"I'm sure I'll get back to my native lands well enough," Arthur says as he follows their lead to the ship. He tucks Jinxy into his outer coat pocket so he can use both hands to climb aboard.

"Unnnf. Tell me more about this...Golden Spark of War. This Pale Cinder Queen," he asks, familiar with the name.

"What is there to tell that has not been spun in song already? Surely the skalds of your native lands have already told you the tales of her wrath? Of how she has been unleashed upon Midgard in Surtr's place to accelerate the coming of ragnarok? Where Surtr is bound to Muspelheim as the gods are bound to Asgard now, the Pale Cinder Queen was of this world and so can move freely amongst the Nine Realms, unfettered by the chains that bind other beings like her out of this world."

Skeptical eyes are upon Arthur now as he climbs aboard the ship. Vikings clambor aboard the various ships again, joining their fellows in using long oars to shove off of the frozen shore upon which they grounded themselves. The air is full of violent noise for several minutes as Arthur turns that brief summary over in his mind. He also gets a few minutes to get a proper survey of his surroundings.

It's definitely a viking longship, though much larger than anything he's seen in a museum before. Perhaps larger than anything he's dealt with before, even in his extended dealings with previous Nordic types from the mists of history. Definitely a ship intended for the open ocean, long travel, and inhospitable climes. Long and low-slung, its geometry seems more intended to carve through the waters and rely upon wind power, though there are plenty of oarlocks on either side of the ship for rowing when the wind is against the ship. It has a certain gravity to it that Arthur and Porter are free to interpret however they choose for the moment.

Arthur plants his feet on the deck and rings out his coat and scarf a bit more until there's no more dripping. "Our skalds left out quite a bit of that. Thank you for the explanation," he says. He thinks quietly to himself as they begin their journey.

If they're off to war against the Pale Cinder Queen, then this is after his last visit in this general era. But if that's the case, how could he have ended up? He was never supposed to arrive for this event, or so he thinks. "Are you familiar with a woman named Ylva?"

"I've known an Ylva or two in my day, Small Man, but I don't imagine they are the Ylva you seek. Be she a seeress? A seidha? A village elder? Or perhaps a traitoress to your clan?"

The red-bearded man seems puzzled by the question. He does his best to answer without much given information to help him narrow things down. Tilting his head to one side, the burly man strokes his beard for a few moments before shouting orders to his men.

Orders get shouted to the other ships. Nets are hauled out from below decks. The sails are set and rudders get handled by large men whose skin seems almost leathered from sun and surf. Gradually, the ships are guided around the iceberg that bore Porter and Arthur for not nearly so long as they feared. Food and furs are brought from below decks as well to keep Arthur and his precious kitten warm against the weak northern sun and the strong northern winds.

Somewhere along the way, Arthur notices that the ships have cast their nets into the sea and are... Fishing? They're definitely fishing while they sail onward toward war and glory and blood. Every so often, the nets are hauled aboard and the sea's bounty is cleaned from the tough, fibrous tangles before the nets are cast asea again. A handful of vikings on each ship seem engaged in cleaning and preparing the fish for cooking later. Porter gets offered a lot of fish hearts and scrap meat over the course of the day.

"A seeress, I suppose you could say," Arthur the Beardless agrees. "She knew something of the Pale Cinder Queen," he ponders. "What was the danger below you spoke of?" he asks as he jukes to make sure he's out of their way as they prepare the ship to sail.

He's grateful for the furs, taking Jinxy out of his pocket so he can be wrapped in dry furs. He also lets Jinxy eat to his hearts content if he wants.

"Danger below?" asks the red-bearded man. He seems still more confused by Arthur. Taking a post near the stern of the ship, that red beard gets stroked again as he regards Arthur seriously. "Surely you do not refer to Ran's net? The crew of your ill-fated ship must have been cursing Ran as they sank! Afraid of being caught in her net in these northern waters, to be drawn away from the sight of the valkyries, and the grasp of Odin himself. Only Njord himself might bear sway to free a man from Ran's net once he's trapped by it beneath the waves."

Arthur recalls that Ran and Njord are competing gods of the sea in Norse mythology. Ran is generally more primordial - more like a titan, if you will - than Njord and is generally more like a goddess of THE SEA itself. By comparison, Njord is more of a god of sailors. He builds many ships for the Norse gods and has his own shipyard near Asgard. Ran's net is representative of drowning, but also of the insatiable greed/hunger of the ocean for whatever may fall beneath its surface.

"Oh, yes...-that- Ran," Arthur replies as he wraps himself in furs now that Jinxy is taken care of. He's practically swallowed by the furs, dwarfed by them. What manner of beast was this hide from!? "They were cursing Ran to their last."

The red-bearded viking nods a bit at Arthur, though may not seem entirely convinced of Arthur's sincerity. He strokes his beard for a few moments, shaking his head a little bit before consulting with another viking. Comparatively, this viking is an elder and far slimmer man. As they speak, the older man draws some maps from a water-resistant case so that he can indicate something on the charts for the captain(?) while they speak hurriedly.

Consultation time passes. Orders are shouted between ships again. Arthur gets the impression that their course has been corrected according to the wisdom of this elder sailor? Navigator? It's hard to say.

Arthur steps to the side of the boat to stay out of the way, looking down at the kitten wrapped in furs. He sighs worriedly and whispers, "What've we stepped into this time? I don't think I was ever supposed to encounter the Pale Cinder Queen, according to Ylva. She said I wasn't there when I was needed."

Dry furs and food? Yes, Jinxy can do that. Quite well. Snuggle. Purr. Omnomnomnom. He certainly looks like he doesn't eat enough, at least probably not by Viking standards. There are likely rats on board larger then him. hopefully they don't expect him to chase them down. His experiences with rats have been terrible. Hopefully any onboard don't have laser guns. Or axes. Or even beards.

The vikings have beards.

Manly beards.

BEARDS WITH AXES!

Fortunately, the rats on the ships have neither beards nor axes. Jinxy can rest safe in the knowledge that he will not be harried by axe-wielding bearded rats. Every so often a sailor stops by to drop off some fish gore and whisper a prayer to Frigga into Jinxy's ears. Arthur, in the mean time, gets to observe his surroundings and continue to have that sinking feeling in his gut. What sort of temporal connundrum has he stumbled into this time? Will his interference have rippling effects on the legend of the Pale Cinder Queen? Will he see Jinxy grow into a full fledged Portercat?

Arthur cringes at the idea of Jinxy eating the fish gore. He looks around as the ship sails onward. There is indeed a sinking feeling that he may be breaking a rule of time travel. Or maybe he's fulfilling something he's meant to do. It's hard to tell when you're not viewing things from the outside.

Jinxy would really hope to avoid sinking feelings. Especially when they're on a ship in freezing waters. He doesn't seem terribly fond of the fish guts, either, as he noses them over for Arthur. Maybe he's just being generous, knowing that humans can't hunt for themselves? Or wants praise for his catch?

Time passes. As the sun grows dangerously close to the horizon, huge fires burst into existence near the bow of each ship where the wind will not throw embers back toward the sails. Several sailors turn to cooking dinner for the crew of each ship while Arthur and Jinxy watch.

Once again the red-bearded viking approaches our dynamic duo with a broad smile. Arms spread wide open, he ushers them away from mid-ship and toward the fire at the fore. There is a great deal of boisterous invitation involved and loud speaking over Arthur's objections, if any. Somewhere along the way, both of our heroes begin to smell the delicious scent of freshly cooked fish stew and some kind of heated mead along with the scent of burning wood.

"Come! Join us for food and the tales of the skald!"