[OPEN] Welcome to Solvunn!

[aquaveiled]

WHO: Anyone in Solvunn!
WHAT: Mingle Meet & Greet for new and old Solvunn Summoned!
WHEN: Early April
WHERE: Primary Settlement: The Drunken Lamb

[ ooc; This is an open log so feel free to jump in and make your own top-levels! The Official Unofficial Welcoming Committee will be trying to invite as many Summoned as possible so you don't need CR with any character to show up. You can also just assume you heard it through word of mouth! The Summoned gather semi-regularly at the tavern so it's likely expected by the locals as well. ]

i. The Drunken Lamb




If walls could talk, these certainly would. The Drunken Lamb, an old staple in the Primary Settlement is where many go to relax and chat after a long day's work. A cup of locally brewed ale and good conversation are a great way to pass the evening and some nights get livelier with heated arguments over local produce and game, and friendly contests over mead and cards. A few nights a week there may also be a musical performance by a bad or just an impromptu sing-along when someone gets the urge. Luckily if you're drunk enough knowing the words may not be necessary.

Don't forget to say hello to the there is an old ewe who hangs out by the front door inside tonight due to the inclement weather. Her name is Myrtle and if she spits on you it's considered good luck.

The atmosphere inside the tavern is warm despite the howling wind outside, stone walls lit by torches and candles. Everyone is welcomed by the local tavern owner standing behind the counter. You're free to grab a drink right away should you like. The tavern boasts some of the best mead Primary Settlement. It's a great time to chat and get to know your new neighbors, but your hosts for the evening also have a few things planned.

Normally you would be encouraged to try the tavern's meat pies, but this evening is a potluck! Your fellow Summoned have put on their chef's hats and whipped together their favorite (or passable) dishes to share as a welcoming gift to the newest members of the flock. Be sure to fill up and go back for seconds because there is plenty to go around. If you're lucky, you may even know what you're about to eat!

If you want to try your hand at the tavern's beloved mead drinking contest, you are highly encouraged. Some of your fellow Summoned have even been crowned as champions before! They will be facing off one another as well as taking on other Summoned who are also capable of making poor decisions. But worry not! If alcohol isn't your thing (or even if it is), there are a few card and dice games available for any patrons to take up and play with one another. There is also a knife throwing board on the far wall. Because you know knives and mead work well together. For the musically inclined, Wanda has created some simple instruments for anyone to give us an impromptu performance, or an instrument of choice upon request. Sing us a song, piano-man!

The Official Unofficial Welcoming Committee is down one member this time around. They normally take more time to get the festivities off to an upbeat start, but you may notice that Himeka, Wanda, and Rocket are a little down. There are no brochures to hand out this time, but Himeka will hand over a whole dried fish (thank you Zagreus for helping her catch so many), including a little bow. If you look like you want more, you can ask for raw as well.

ii. The Storm Bleats

At the height of the evening's festivities, things take a sudden turn. Or rather, the windows take a sudden hit by a flying livestock as a goat is sent crashing through and comically onto a table. It seems that one of the tornadoes has touched down too close to town and a few unlucky animals have been taken for a ride. To those who have been in Solvunn at least for the past month, you know that goatnados have been happening on and off for weeks. The damage the winds do to property is a strain on the community, but airborne goats feel more dangerous.

And it doesn't stop with just one--the walls of tavern shake violently as the storm rages. The thud and "baa"s of goats (and the occasional "moo" of a cow) add to the symphony of chaos. The doors fly open, another window breaks, and the barkeep shouts for help. It's time for action!

Help corral the wayward livestock and find them safe places to huddle together inside the tavern, protect the locals as some may fight the storm terrifying especially in a drunken stupor, or maybe they think they can actually go out and take the tornadoes on themselves. Liquid courage is a hell of a drug. Refortifying the tavern by making quick work of the resources around you against the onslaught is extremely important as well. A few tables may be lost to the cause, but it it may need to be done. Hopefully with everyone working together, you can weather the weather.

iii. Who doesn't love a sleepover?

The storm still rages outside, but at least it seems like the goats have been collected and what fortifications needed to be done to the building are holding. It's clear that leaving is a no-go, though, for the safety of yourself and those around you. Looks like you'll be spending the night here after all. And not due to the "party all night" atmosphere that you may have hoped.

Well, that's unfortunate, isn't it? Or maybe it is fortunate if you haven't managed to find a more permanent place to stay in Solvunn just yet. The only bed in the tavern is in the back where the barkeep sleeps and he's offering it to an elderly man whose leg bothers him if he stands on it too long. So you'll have to figure out your own sleeping arrangements if you're planning on getting some shut eye. If you can.

But then again, who needs sleep? Maybe you still want to stay up all night and just wait it out. There are still card games and booze to be had if you need something to keep yourself busy. Or maybe you knows some games from your world to teach the people around you. And let's be honest, the goats have a mind of their own and will probably try to interfere no matter what you action you choose. At least you can say your welcome to Solvunn was anything but boring.

Comments

[heelies]

I. The Drunken Lamb

It is an ungrateful man who scorns an invitation to feasting, games, and song — thus, Achilles joins the crowd at the tavern. He drinks the honey-wine, whose deep sweetness grows familiar on his tongue, and bolts down thick cuts of meat, bread, and cheese. When he has set aside his desire for food, he challenges other patrons to contests in mead-drinking and knife-throwing.

With winged words, the son of Peleus boasts, "Come now, who will meet my challenge? Or does the courage waver in your breast?"

As dusk deepens into night, the sight of a lyre stirs in Achilles a longing for home, for fertile Phthia and Mount Pelion's vast wilds, for even the wind-swept plains of Troy, where wait the ashes of great-hearted Patroclus. Beating down his mounting sorrow, he takes up the lyre and plucks a simple melody to test its strings. The song he chooses matches not the shadows in his own heart but the cheer floating around the room.

"Oh, Ares of the glinting helmet,
sacker of cities, destroyer of men,
whose marriage bed did you dare plunder,
blind in love to foolish blunder?

"Lame-foot Hephaestus, famous craftsman!
His bride, laughter-loving Aphrodite,
who beguiles the hearts of man and god —
her rich fields, Ares tilled and trod!

"Who has ever sowed if not to reap?
Hephaestus, lighting on their treachery,
contrived a trap with all his cunning:
rigged high a net to halt their running!"

He goes on to sing of how the net was spun so fine that eyes could scarcely discern it, and how Hephaestus hung it over the bed before leaving for his forge. He sings of how Ares and Aphrodite, set on losing themselves in love, found themselves entangled in the net instead, and how Hephaestus invited all the deathless gods to laugh at their misfortune.

II. Wildcard

Otherwise, when the storm begins to batter the hall, Achilles launches into action with a swiftness that is startling from a man who has imbibed so much. He barricades windows with overturned tables, a bulwark against the onslaught of wind. (Hopefully, you were finished with your drink before he flipped the table...) He carries goats and people to safety — if you purpose to try anything foolish, he may throw you over his shoulder too. Aid him in these heroic endeavors, keep him company through the night, or what you will.

I.

[beautifullies]

Claire's spent her time in the kitchen, helping to both cook and serve, but when things have finally calmed down enough that she isn't needed, she makes her way out into the relatively cooler air of the main tavern. The singing draws her, and when the stories begin to sound familiar, the man doing said singing has her complete attention. If she's being honest, it's the first thing (outside of the escalating weather) that's captured her attention in a positive light since Nero's death.

When the man finishes, Claire claps enthusiastically, then gives it a moment before approaching him.

"That was gorgeous singing, I'm glad I was here for it." She gestures to the table she's been occupying. "If you were planning on having anything to eat or drink, you're welcome to share my table. I'm Claire."

Her greeting is warm and given with a smile after making her offer.

[heelies]

"I cannot say no to another round of honey-sweet mead," Achilles answers.

Although, it is with a measure of reluctance that he sets aside the lyre, which in his hands feels as natural as the haft of a long-shadowed spear. It is not the fine lyre that his father gifted him long ago, yet it is a fragment of the home he knows he shall never see again. Presently he moves to join Claire at the table, and sitting he makes his introduction.

"I am Peleus' son, Achilles." In his gaze glimmers pride, bright as the fire in the hearth, for the name he bears and for his father before him. "It was Chiron, wisest of the centaurs, who taught me the art of music, of strumming the lyre strings and singing sweetly. How well it pleases my heart that you have delighted in my song, Claire."

[beautifullies]

There's a deep gratitude for her uncle in this moment, for taking her all over the world, for taking her to Greece, and for making sure she was as immersed in the culture as one could be while he worked on his archaeological studies. Her education and knowledge of the gods and myths is rusty, and there are gaps, but every name said is familiar to her. Especially, and obviously, Achilles himself.

Her smile brightens a bit after his introduction, thinking of the other deities she's met recently. There's certainly been a boom, and she hopes that might help him feel a bit more at ease, eventually.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Achilles. Truly; I know you may not be where you'd like, but we try to make up for it by being a welcoming group of Summoned." There's a pause when she catches the eye of one of the tavern workers. They've worked together all day, and after gesturing for her, Claire asks for more of the mead, along with a small plate of meat, bread, and cheese. With a squeeze of gratitude to the young woman's arm, her attention shifts back to her present company.

"Is there anything that I can do for you to make your first few days and weeks a bit more comfortable? Is there anything that you need so far as basic necessities?"

[heelies]

His name is like a flint on which recognition sparks in her eyes, he can discern as much — and to him, who chose the path that led him inexorably toward glory bought at the cost of his life, it comes as no surprise. If there is any comfort in his doomed state, it is that he will be remembered, and for as long as his memory is alive, so too lives the memory of Menoetius' gallant son Patroclus.

"Well met indeed," Achilles replies with a nod. "Truly I want for nothing — the god-fearing Solvunnians, though their means are humble, have shared all that they possess...food and mead from their stores, goats from their folds, fine clothes to wear and a soft bed on which to sleep. They need not even know the name of Zeus, protector of guest-rights, to offer such a warm welcome as this, which is the custom of the Achaeans."

Presently, the serving woman returns with mugs of mead and a plate laden with food, from which Achilles takes.

"Ah, but one thing more would please my heart, to go to the sea which all my life has been so near at hand. Are there gods who dwell beneath its waves, nymphs like my mother, silver-footed Thetis?"

[beautifullies]

Claire lets him help himself, taking a sip of her own mead while pondering how best to answer his question.

"I've honestly never seen nymphs, but there very well could be more than one god of the sea. The citizens here do love their multiple gods, and when observing certain rituals, they seem to make offerings intended for multiple deities." She pauses, thinking of a suggestion and adding, "You may find out more from someone living in the tertiary settlement."

She does visit often, but someone who lives daily life surrounded by the lore could know more.

i

[aquaveiled]

Never let it be said that Himeka will back down from a challenge based around food or drink. She didn't spend months losing every last gil to her name to pirates to lose every last bit of her dignity to farmers. Or pirates farmers. (More common that you may think!) But having been the champion of this selfsame drinking contest a few times in the past, there is even more than dignity on the line--

It's reputation! Which should probably mean less than dignity but Himeka never worried much about that in the first place. Besides, she could use something to keep her mind off the fact that this is the first little get-together with the other Summoned they've had since Nero...departed.

All five feet and two-point-four inches of her stands at the ready. She places a hand on her hip and shouts back,

"I accept!" Then slaps her other hand on the counter as the barkeep sets down two hearty steins of mead. "It's not a title you'll take so easily."

[heelies]

Of all the god-favored Summoned gathered there in the hall, he does not expect a woman to rise to his goading. Yet Achilles discerns, from her glittering scales, strange horns, and lizard-like tail, that this is no ordinary woman. Across his countenance, surprise gives way to delight.

"Strange woman! To face one who was crowned victor once before — ah, how it stirs the fighting spirit in me! Very well. Hold fast to that crown, for it shall soon be mine to boast."

For whether the contest demands the strength of one's arms or the strength of one's stomach, the son of Peleus is unrelenting. So speaking, he takes the stein set before him, raises it in prayer to the gods, and waits for the barkeep's signal to begin.

[aquaveiled]

In a town full of hyur humans, she does tend to stand out, but Solvunnites seem to accept that the Summoned will come in all shapes and sizes. (Once you have a giant two-legged shark walking around, a few scales isn't so odd.)

But he's a newly acquired one, so to speak, and what better way to integrate yourself into local traditions than to drink your way through them?

"We'll have to see about that, Mister Challenger." She takes the other stein, holding it aloft to match his. And as soon as the barkeep shouts, she leans back and chugs like her life depends on it, not pausing to take a single breath until she can pull back with an audible 'ah' of satisfaction.

"Another round!" she declares as she slams the stein down on the counter. Himeka suspects a man who boasts so readily won't go down after just one.

[heelies]

To Achilles' thinking, all who were summoned to this land were chosen by the gods, and thus all who bear the honor must bear too some renown in deed or skill, in birth or temper. Or else, why should the gods seek them?

When the contest begins, the son of Peleus tips his cup and gulps down the smooth, sweet mead in one fell swoop. As when two teams of horses are evenly matched in a chariot race, and first this one noses ahead, then the other, their drivers in close pursuit, so too with the contestants in this drinking match. No sooner has Himeka clanged her flagon against the counter than Achilles bangs his. Marveling, he grins at her.

"Magnificent! By the gods, you will find that I am not so easy to best though. Let us go again!"

Another stein. Another silent tribute to the gods. And off they go!

[aquaveiled]

A toast to the gods is one she's happy to make and such a thing would only be smiled upon in Solvunn. Chosen by the gods seems to be the prevailing theory and, after meeting a few, Himeka isn't so sure she believes it. But they have been pleasant enough all the same.

And her opponent certainly proves his point. By the time they're on their fifth cup and Himeka is leaning more heavily on the counter than not, she starts to think she may have met her match. She slides forward a bit and decides that it may be time to take a seat.

"You've def'ntly done this before, aye?"

They key is to drink so fast you can't tell how drunk you are until it's over...or you throw up. Preferably not the latter.

I

[inthenameofhades]

"Achilles! I didn't know you could play," Zagreus says as the song ends, giving a lazy grin for both the performance and the song. Lady Aphrodite and his cousin Ares might not appreciate the humour of the song...but Zagreus does. And, well. He doesn't have to mention it to either of them later, does he?

"Though now that I think of it, I can see why you never mentioned it. Father might have tried to have you fill in for Orpheus as the Court Musician if he'd known."

[heelies]

Now, now, what the gods do not know cannot come back to smite him...

"Come now, son of Hades, what is this you are saying?" Achilles answers as he rises to join Zagreus. "True, in arts of war I am unmatched, no man my equal in all of Achaea — but in music, fleet-fingered Orpheus stands alone among men, rivaled only by shining Apollo."

What he does not say is that he has not picked up the lyre since Menoetius' gallant son Patroclus was cut down by man-killing Hector, since he raged like wildfire through the Trojan ranks, razing everything in his path — since he lay Patroclus on his pyre and watched the funeral flames overtake the dearest life he knew. His fingers remember their way across the strings, but his heart does not follow.

"Moreover, is it true that the Lord of the Dead has made Orpheus his bard?"

[inthenameofhades]

"Orpheus's is a singular talent, this is true," Zagreus agrees. "I've not had the honour of hearing Apollo myself, but apart from him but I'd say the only one who could compare is Eurydice. She's his muse, after all."

And his partner in music. Orpheus might be the one who had all the credit, but both Orpheus and Eurydice had stressed how their music was just as much hers as it was his. Sometimes even more so.

"But there was a time where Orpheus was refusing to play at all. And yes, Father did make Orpheus his bard. Though he certainly wasn't happy with his refusal to sing."

[heelies]

He cocks his head, weighing out Zagreus' words.

"Here is a side of the story I have never heard, never before turned over, Eurydice as much the musician as the muse. Ah, but it stands to reason that she should love song-making as well as she loved Orpheus. Now, what could make a man such as Orpheus, through whom music beat like a second heart, to refuse to play?"

So speaking, Achilles sets the lyre aside for another cup of mead, which in this hall flows so freely. He encourages Zagreus, with a hand clasped to his shoulder, to do the same.

[inthenameofhades]

"The two of them wrote together, actually. They very much worked in collaboration. And...she was the reason he refused to sing too. He missed her. With Eurydice in Asphodel, and Orpheus in the House...I think by that point, they'd been separated for quite a while. And...it got a bit much for him to bear."

A story which, in some ways, paralleled Achilles's own. Though Zagreus didn't know exactly where in Achilles's life he'd been pulled from. Didn't know whether Patroclus had fallen yet, or if he still lived.

It was something he was hesitant to bring up. And then there was everything that happened after Achilles's death. Was that even something Achilles would want Zagreus to tell him? He didn't know.

I.

[tedandroses]

Despite being in the same clothes as the rest of them, the -- sort of everything about him makes Teddy think the man is probably from an older time, than even the spackle-and-beam buildings and dirt paths in Solvunn would fit into their timelines back at home. The way he carries himself, dives happily into mead and meat, issues challenges in phrasings that even translated sound ancient. Something about his hair and build and the way he wanders in barefoot. If he were pale, Teddy'd guess maybe some kind of Viking or Celt, but his olivey skin makes them reconsider.

When he picks up a lyre, though -- first of all, music, and someone to play with! -- but also, the topic confirms her guess: Greek. He's handling the culture shock better than I probably am, she thinks, and goes to inspect the instruments.

There's a small assortment, most at least medievalish, and Teddy pounces on a mandolin, lifting it to his ear to tune and adjusting a couple of the strings into an alternate tuning to get the whole thing in Dorian mode without having to try too hard. It takes only a few minutes of quietly strumming, figuring it out with his head bent to the strings to get down the melody that the man's picking out.

After a minute, Teddy takes up a perch on a nearby table and lets the chords ring out with a smile, providing some depth for the melody and improvising some little extra grace notes between verses. They grin a little, tentatively, at the singer: there's always a bit of a thrill when they can find someone to play with, though they hope he doesn't think they're trying to pull attention away.

[heelies]

As his song sweeps the hall, this story he learned as a boy and this melody which once wrapped around him as warmly as the sheepskin blankets on winter nights weathered in the wilds of Mount Pelion, Achilles is surprised to hear in its shadow new notes, like flowers blooming freshly beneath familiar trees. Rather than take offense at such an intrusion, he welcomes it, sharing a smile with the stranger.

So tumbles the song through another verse and its final chorus, until the last note rings out, lyre and mandolin and Achilles' voice falling into silence all as one. He relaxes his fingers from the strings and stands to greet the stranger who joined his song.

"How wonderfully you play, stranger! Too many years have passed since I last plucked the lyre's strings alongside one such as you, who must have been granted this gift by Phoebus Apollo himself."

[tedandroses]

Teddy relaxes at his easy smile back, warmed by the welcoming smile and genuinely enjoying the interplay of the melody and harmony, which despite all the training and practice always feels a little magical when it works. They turn the side of their hand to still the strings as the final note finishes, letting the silence fall completely, and their grin widens a little.

The man stands, and it's Teddy's instinct to stand as well, although in doing so she makes herself a good several extra inches shorter than sitting on the table would have. "Oh -- thank you. Very much. Your playing was wonderful. I've never played alongside lyre, it was a treat to hear it."

"I don't know about god-granted, but if he did, he must have gifted it to my parents, as well," Teddy adds, smiling. "They taught me everything I know."

He offers a hand. "I'm Teddy. Are you new here, too?"

[heelies]

"Indeed, I have just lately come to this country, called by its gods. I am Achilles, son of Peleus who rules over Phthia."

He is perplexed by the hand the stranger extends. They are not sealing a binding oath, nor does Achilles come to him as suppliant, in which case he might kneel and kiss his hand as a sign of respect. Nevertheless, it seems that he is expected to receive their hand, and so he clasps it in his. Moreover, he is perplexed by Teddy's appearance, which at turns reflects the shape of a woman and that of a man, both and neither at once — all of which lends to the impression that she is no ordinary being.

"Such an instrument as yours I have never before seen much less heard plucked so skillfully. What is it called?"

ii

[lightkeeping]

Aloy isn't really one for social situations, but has lately been making the effort to greet new Summoned when they arrive, even if she isn't particularly good at that. The weather is expected, but aggravating nonetheless, and it's the thing that makes her glad she showed up.

And she isn't the only one who springs into action. She'd noticed Achilles during the mingle, and now watches him as he begins to secure the inn. Maybe a little overzealously, but she isn't going to complain about someone taking initiative. She'll even join him, not that he seems to need the assistance, shoving tables against the wall.

"Here. I've got this." She nods at their makeshift barricade, clearly ready to roll up her sleeves and push, if he wants to go rescue a goat or something.

[heelies]

From head to toe he sweeps her with an assessing look — but as there is no time for debate, he beats down his doubts and answers with a sharp nod. There is strength in her arms, he can see as much, and spirit in her breast. Swiftly, the son of Peleus issues orders as he topples another table for the woman to push.

"Every window must be covered, that the storm does not steal into the hall and topple its timbers."

No sooner has he spoken than the wind hurls a bleating goat through one window, shattering the glass and ushering in the slanting rain. So must Achilles abandon his barricade to wrestle the beast into submission, as in its panic it rams headlong into guests and furniture. He seizes it by the horns and steers it toward the back corner, which shall serve as pen.

[lightkeeping]

Aloy holds her own physically, at least--despite her stature, she's clearly well-practiced in the art of pushing and dragging heavy things. She braces herself against the table and puts her back into it.

Of course, the sound of a goat through the window is enough to make anyone flinch. She ducks reflexively, but isn't quick enough to actually tackle the goat. That's fine. Probably Achilles can take care of that. She hopes.

"You got it?"

The goats are large, and ornery on a good day--and that one just got pitched through the window.

[heelies]

"He raises a good fight, but he cannot best me," answers Achilles as he wrestles the long-horned goat.

The beast bucks and bleats, but it cannot shake the son of Peleus' great grip. He forces it into the corner and pins it to the floorboards. Unfortunately, all of Achilles' godly strength can do nothing to calm the creature. Thus, when he releases his hold, the goat runs headlong into a chair and sends it clattering to the ground.

Yes, he has got it.

[lightkeeping]

In truth, she'd rather watch Achilles go head-to-head with the goat--but there is now a hole in the window, which means she needs to plug it up. While he plays wrangler, she adjusts her trajectory and pushes the table towards the wall, turning it on its end in order to better stop the wind and rain that threatens to further breach containment.

Also there's broken glass all over the floor. So that's nice, and Achilles' current wrestling match is not exactly helping.

Aloy gives the table another shove, and then calls over from across the room, the exasperation in her voice fairly evident.

"You're just making it angry!"