Unn Bjarndarson: Seeking of shelter, (Solo)

[Wargie]

The world of the north:
Forests so wide the eye can not see the end of them. The steppes, dead in winter, nothing but snow. It kills all but a few. In summer and spring they transform into vast green fields, giant herds wandering side by side by side with the nomadic tribes. See the coast, magnificent tall grey cliffs, at their shores long ships lie. Feared men with great beards dressed chain and leather stand by the railings, eyes turned towards the south and west, looking for distant shores and plunder to take. See the icy north, the lone bear that wanders on the hard crust of the snow. High above, a cloud free sky. See! A flash of light! What was once a star filled patch of sky, nine stars break free and fall across the heaven. The patch remains black, the stars are gone, and down below the world begins to turn.

Three elder women sit below a tree, their hands move across a loom, and then they stop. Their eyes are raised from the loom that changes beneath their fingers and stare upon the sky. As one they scream.

It is a month to Yule, the celebration of the winter solstice, the day that tells the world that the sun is returning. Unn Bjarndarson is struggling through snow that at times reaches him to the waist and he has been wandering for days without a goal. As far as he knows he is close to the border to Vastergotland and that it lies in a general southwestern direction. Darkness is now not far away and knowing which way is southwest is a problem as wind and snow is pounding him close to senseless. The man built like a bear knows that he needs to either build a shelter in the snow, or find some soon or he shall perish in the night. So with a slightly bent back he struggles forward, and up ahead he notices a drop in the terrain and what can only be the beginning of a forest.

GM

Soo! First thread is started, and I have decided to run a few quick solo's that will quickly combine into one main thread. This is for Vman only.

[Vardaen]

Unn.

It is both his name and the grunting noise the bear-like man makes as he plods through the snow that drifts up to his waste. The north wind howls around him and he echos it with a cry of frustration. Not here. Not like this. Wrapped heavily in the hides of caribu and reindeer, the stalking figure looks like some yeti out of the tundra. His hands are wrapped in heavy wool and fur, his boots, planted deep beneath the snow line, if visible would show the silver fur of some dead animal. Inside them his toes are going numb, his fingers already so. Under his heavy hide cloaks a pack is loaded with frozen strips of reindeer jerky, the only thing he's eaten for days. His waterskin has frozen ale in it, the alchohol thaws somewhat easier than water alone, but becomes stronger with each attempt as the water is removed.

A hand rises to his barely perceptable face, his eyes squinting between a pair of wooden slats that run across his face to block the snow blind. Hgh. Shelter. Catching his breath as he views the slight dip in the terrain he hopes that the start of a forest is ahead and so he continues moving. If he stops he'll probly freeze in place, his joints already screaming in pain against the strain of walking through deep deep snow.

[Wargie]

Unn continues to struggle onwards until he reaches the slight dip in the terrain. Slowly and as safely as possible he begins to make his way down, though to his dismay the snow begins to rumble around him. His eyes goes to the left and right and he sees how the snow begins to slide. He picks up his pace and takes great leaps down the hill. Before him the first trees grow larger and larges as he comes closer and closer. The the rumbling gathers in strength and he looks over his shoulder. A giant white cloud of sound and color comes crashing down towards him and the bear of a man crawls up into a small ball as the force of the snow hits him. He is tossed around, back and forth and struggles to keep his breath, but then after a short moment he feels a solid thud to his chest and he comes to stop. There is no longer any sound of an avalanche, though as he looks around he notices that he is buried in the snow, but there is one thing that is not white.

The bark of a tree.

GM

Survival roll vs avalance: "20" perfect.

[Vardaen]

For a long moment Unn does nothing but breath. He lays there in a ball, his chest heaving against the pain of thre aspen tree he smacked into. Then he begins to look around is personall cave. Its dark, but the white of the snow is obvious in perfect bubble around him, save for that one spot where the tree is. Unnn, that hurt. His breathing is labored, and he knows that is bad news for him as his oxygen supply is probably very small. He forces himself to breath slower, shallow breaths, and to conserve his energy. However the mindset begins to settle in around him, the confined space, the small 'cave' that seems to be getting smaller and smaller in his mind. Panic sets in, "Arrrrrghrrr!" He screams, and begins to punch at what he thinks is the ceiling of the snow, digging upwards. His mind goes ferral, "Out!" He screams pounding at the snow, digging upwards, he hops, slamming his fist over and over again into the snow tunneling through it blindly. With each handfull of snow torn away he screams again and again, his brow covered in sweat in seconds, his legs kicking and pounding below him, pushing him forward. "Out! Let me out!" The rage that overcomes him will either send him digging deeper into the snow, or with Odin's luck, up and out into the fresh air.

Action

Well wasted no time abusing me! Rage.

[Wargie]

Unn seeks the more primitive sides of himself and so he feels how his body fills with a raw untampered power. Each hand manages to push through the snow a bit further than before. Kicking, punching and pushing the bear like man begins to wiggle through in what he thinks is upwards. His face is torn by the cold snow and soon he has scrape marks all over his red face. He squirms and screams and then he notices how the snow begins to get thinner as light shine through.

From the edge of the forest a plume of snow suddenly explodes upwards like a volcano and out comes a face twisted in what can only be described as panic and anger. Two hands follow and soon the body of Unn Bjarndason is up on the surface panting heavily. Looking around he sees that he lies next to a small tree and up ahead the forest spreads out like a safe haven.

[Vardaen]

"Urrrrrughn!"

The snow errupts as the barbaric man digs himself out from under the snow. He has a wild look in his eyes, hidden beneath his snow blind goggles that manged somehow to stay on. He is both filled with a panic, and a total wrath at his situation. His voice rings out, echoing through the mountainsides and the nearby forest. He claws his way out of the snow, using the tree as a crutch to pull his legs out of the white ocean. He then slumps down, his back against it, and he pants heavily, his breath, hot, fogs out infront of his face in the cold crisp air. "Thank you little cousin." He reaches up behind him exhausted and pats the tree branches. The fear fades, the anger is gone, and now a deep exhaustion settles in on the man. He begins to scan the forest, and the avalanche debris.

[Wargie]

Unn struggles in the snow, fatigue closing its grip on him closer and closer. In front of him the trees begin to stand closer and closer to eachother, and the amount of snow on the ground begins to be less and less. After a hundred yards the sounds of the screaming wind is nothing but a light breeze and his feet does not sink deep into the snow anymore. There is a feeling of security falling over Unn as he struggles through the woods with one thing on his mind, set up a good shelther.

[Vardaen]

The man tromps through the snow coming under the protection of the trees. He appears much like some wild animal, his fur hides that cover him are all matted and caked with snow, pine needles, and bark. Stepping into the forest he gives himself a moment to breath slumping up against a tree and panting heavily. Speaking to no one he forms words, the act of talking to himself out in this lonely wilderness helps him to remember who he is. "First a fire, need to thaw out my ale skin. Then shelter." Unn pushes off from the tree and seeks around looking for a spot with lots of trees close together to act as a wind break, and a place where we can put a fire not directly under any low boughs. Once a place good enough is found he shrugs himself out of his traveling pack, a thick hide sack. He rubs his hands together to try and get some feeling back in them, and then starts collecting fire wood. Once he has a stack of it, he goes about lighting a fire, adding small tinder first, and building up, careful not to create too much heat. He does't want the fire to melt the snow in the limbs above. He hands his ale skin near the fire, and warms his hands and feet for several minutes, checking on the conents of his skin several times. "A shelter next." He turns and considers his options.

[Wargie]

Unn finds the perfect location after only a few moments of searching. As his fire begins to spread some heat he turns his attention to the low boughs. The low boughs are not a big problem for the large man as he cuts them off the tree and then weaves them into a wall which he places between three of the trees, allowing him complete shelter from the wind.

As the shelter has been built with a few spare branches placed on the ground to lift him off the wet snow he turns his attention to his skin of ale. To his luck the ice has melted and it is once again a golden liquid, a bit stronger than the night before, but bound to be tasty. In his shelter the world is silent, the trees makes cracking sounds from the cold and there is a low whispering sound from the wind. High above him the cloud is crimson as night is slowly arriving.

[Vardaen]

The man Unn is at home here in the wild, even this deep into the uncharted forests and mountains. He scoops out some ice from the ale skin, making sure to keep the potentcy at its peak. A few sips to warm his belly, as he adds a few more large logs to the fire to build up a nice base of coals. From his pack that is near the fire also, he draws out a long strip of dried jerky, reindeer jerky. He bites into it and rips a piece free and chews. "In the morning I will check the traps, the night comes too quickly, and I'm tired." He speaks to the fire as if speaking to someone, but there is little worry of the fire speaking back. He eats, and drinks a bit, and then curls up between the fire and the windbreak, a few more logs on the coals to last through the night. His thick wool and fur blankets, and his bed roll are already set out and as he attempts to get some sleep tonight before checking on his snares in the morning. Perhaps I will get enough this time to buy myself a better bow. He gives his short bow (unstrung) a disparaging glance before drifting off into sleep.