When Rehyk speaks of Abbie's talents and significance, Skurn sits back in his throne, regarding the young squire over steepled fingers. She can feel his hard, emerald eyes examining her, trying to look past her surface-level appearance in search of some sign of her hidden import. After long seconds, he frowns and looks back to Rehyk. "I vill take your vord on this, volvan."
When Seba and Salia step forward and Seba explains their actions in Crobyzoi, the voievod watches with a stern, impassive face--save for a brief flicker of sadness at the mention of Sedra's passing. He remains silent as his niece finishes, chewing over her words before he responds.
That thoughtful pause gives another an opportunity to speak, however. He is a man perhaps a decade Skurn's junior, with a single, thick braid running down his scalp and hanging to his waist, the sides of his head shaved bald. His beard is braided into a dozen or so small spikes that jut from his face, decorated with golden rings. Seba and Salia recognize him and his distinctive appearance: Tor, the voda of the Scaugdae. Oddly, even accounting for his striking hairstyle and beard, he doesn't look much at all like his son, Kar.
He stands, looking at Seba for a moment with an intense, angry stare. Given his son's disdain for the would-be heroes, it's easy to assume he means to verbally assail her. However, instead, he bows his head. "I intended to join you, young volves. Along with fifty of my finest varriors. I vas," he turns a pointed glare to an elderly woman sitting at the table across the hall, so shrunken with age that she's almost swallowed by the thick furs she wears, "overruled."
The old woman returns his hateful stare. "You blame me, boy? Your people refused your call."
"Because you filled their heads with lies and their hearts with cowardice."
She scoffs. "I presented them the truth. As I have said, dear voievod," she says, turning to Skurn, "surrender is the only logical option. Look at the realms the Golden Emperor has brought beneath his banner. They prosper! They have peace! Under his rule, ve could be more than vhat ve are. Ve could be vealthy and respected. Our varriors vould be given the finest veapons and armor. Our children vould not starve vhen there is a bad harvest. If ve accept Lucen rule, ve vill know prosperity like never before. If ve resist, ve will know suffering like never before."
Tor slams his fist down upon the table. "You are a coward, Onva."
She smirks, and despite her age and obvious infirmity, there's still something sharp and dangerous in her smile. "Your father vonce called me a coward. How did that vork out for him?"
Tor's face flushes red. Before he can respond, however, Skurn speaks. His voice is loud and clarion, silencing the hall immediately. "Voda Scaugdae. Voda Sabokae. Enough."
The voievod stands and turns to the four would-be heroes. "Ve are gathered here today to discuss how our people vill respond to the Golden Emperor's advance. As you see, some vish to fight, and some vish to surrender. I assume you are here to tell us ve must stand against the Lucens. Perhaps, if you can present a plan for doing so, ve could come to a decision."
Edit History
When Rehyk speaks of Abbie's talents and significance, Skurn sits back in his throne, regarding the young squire over steepled fingers. She can feel his hard, emerald eyes examining her, trying to look past her surface-level appearance in search of some sign of her hidden import. After long seconds, he frowns and looks back to Rehyk. "I vill take your vord on this, volvan."
When Seba and Salia step forward and Seba explains their actions in Crobyzoi, the voievod watches with a stern, impassive face--save for a brief flicker of sadness at the mention of Sedra's passing. He remains silent as his niece finishes, chewing over her words before he responds.
That thoughtful pause gives another an opportunity to speak, however. He is a man perhaps a decade Skurn's junior, with a single, thick braid running down his scalp and hanging to his waist, the sides of his head shaved bald. His beard is braided into a dozen or so small spikes that jut from his face, decorated with golden rings. Seba and Salia recognize him and his distinctive appearance: Tor, the voda of the Scaugdae. Oddly, even accounting for his striking hairstyle and beard, he doesn't look much at all like his son, Kar.
He stands, looking at Seba for a moment with an intense, angry stare. Given his son's disdain for the would-be heroes, it's easy to assume he means to verbally assail her. However, instead, he bows his head. "I intended to join you, young wolves. Along with fifty of my finest varriors. I was," he turns a pointed glare to an elderly woman sitting at the table across the hall, so shrunken with age that she's almost swallowed by the thick furs she wears, "overruled."
The old woman returns his hateful stare. "You blame me, boy? Your people refused your call."
"Because you filled their heads with lies and their hearts with cowardice."
She scoffs. "I presented them the truth. As I have said, dear voievod," she says, turning to Skurn, "surrender is the only logical option. Look at the realms the Golden Emperor has brought beneath his banner. They prosper! They have peace! Under his rule, ve could be more than vhat ve are. Ve could be vealthy and respected. Our varriors vould be given the finest veapons and armor. Our children vould not starve vhen there is a bad harvest. If ve accept Lucen rule, ve vill know prosperity like never before. If ve resist, ve will know suffering like never before."
Tor slams his fist down upon the table. "You are a coward, Onva."
She smirks, and despite her age and obvious infirmity, there's still something sharp and dangerous in her smile. "Your father vonce called me a coward. How did that vork out for him?"
Tor's face flushes red. Before he can respond, however, Skurn speaks. His voice is loud and clarion, silencing the hall immediately. "Voda Scaugdae. Voda Sabokae. Enough."
The voievod stands and turns to the four would-be heroes. "Ve are gathered here today to discuss how our people vill respond to the Golden Emperor's advance. As you see, some vish to fight, and some vish to surrender. I assume you are here to tell us ve must stand against the Lucens. Perhaps, if you can present a plan for doing so, ve could come to a decision."