By the time Saga and Sasha had made it back to the longhouse, more people had arrived. The guests were elves, half-giants, dwarves and humans alike. Most wore what Saga had come to realize was the traditional Norther garbs and most of them warriors or the spouses of one. Many of them came armed with an axe or a sword that they relinquished at the front gate. Saga noticed that most of them wore some sort of unqiue designs to their tunics that seemed to be tied to their clan or family. One famile of three all had ornate silver embroidery in the shape of birds in flight. Another family all wore the same, complicated red and yellow geometric knotwork.

From the smell of it people had begun to roll out the food and drink by now, with many a loud voice and cheer going up as old friends met up. The longhouse itself was warm and filled with the aroma of various roasted animals, sweet fruits and steaming hot bread. It had yet to pick up the smell of sour beer and other such smells, since people had yet to go deep into their cups, but Saga could spy people with a flagon already in hand. Sagas eyes scanned the crowd of new people. Saga let their eyes sweep over the room before they spotted Ingrid standing amidst a whole clan of dwarves, many who bore a passing similarity to Ingrid herself. As Saga pointed them out to Sasha, she grinned at them and said. "That would be Ingrids family. Lets go say hello."

“Saga! Sasha!” Ingrid exclaimed and the other dwarves' eyes were immediately on the two. There were five of them in total. A old dwarf who gave Saga assumed was ingrids father, a young male dwarf with a short cut beard and a bookish feel to him. He had a pair of overly large spectacles on top of his nose that he repeatedly adjusted. Saga could tell he was less eager about crowds, they could relate.

“This is the reincarnation I mentioned.” Ingrid motioned to Saga who bowed slightly.

“This the berserker then?” One of the other four dwarves asked. She was by far the largest of the dwarves, a little taller than most of the others and built like an absolute tank. She sported a similar haircut that of Saga, although her hair was a pale wheat blonde.

“That would be me. And you are?” Saga inquired, meeting the dwarfs gaze without flinching or backing away. The dwarven warrior smiled suddenly and reached her hand out. Saga felt as if they just passed some sort of test in the burly dwarven womans eyes. They found there was a lot of that here. A lot sizing each other up as if you were meant to fight them at some point.

“Raghild Stormdaughter.” She said. "Ingrids younger sister"

“Stormdaughter huh?” Saga looked to Ingrid who could tell what had Saga curious.

“Aye. Us Northern Dwarves don't do the 'Son of So and So' that the humans here do. Instead we take our last name from whatever element or occurrence that heralded or welcomed our birth. Stormdaughter, Fireborn, Thornchild. I am also a Stormdaughter, in case you were wondering.”

“Some of the half-giants her do the same, yeah?” Saga remembered that the half-giant mercenary Hallvar had gone by the last name of Half-Moon.

“Some do, aye. But those are usually not people of a specific, powerful family. Half-Giant politics is complicated and lineage counts for a lot.” Raghild said while lifting a flagon to her lips. The two chatted for a bit about the nature of names, legacy and tradition. Saga found themselves once more playing tourist as they asked about different places the dwarves had traveled to, although none of them had left the North. The one with the glasses was named Björn and was the one to travel most. He was apperently an expert in animal husbandry and often helped the family buisness by going to the various Half-Giant clans up north to aquire new Renns keep the familys herd healthy and strong.

From what Saga could understand, The North likely in a size similar to that of the Russia, meaning it was many times larger then their old home. Apperently a large part of the North-East was ruled by the elven king Lenara had mentioned at the bath house a couple of week prior, and that Lenaras attitude towards the king was mostly mirrored among the people among the various jarldoms.

The jarldoms were mostly situated along the coast, from east to west. Most of the North was recognized as Half-Giant territory with various tribes and clans acting as wardens of said territories. The biggest exception to this was Hemgård, which was the northernmost town ruled by a Jarl. None of the Jarls had any interest in trying to expand north, as there was a lot of harsh terrain that was better suited to the Half-Giants herds of massive beasts. And the King had apparently fought and lost two wars with the Half-Giants clans who tended to quickly unite against outside threats. After chatting for a little longer, Sagas eyes began to roam the large hall again, looking for other familiar faces.

Saga soon spotted Olaf as the man was hard to miss. He was with his father and two women who could only be his older sisters. Both seemed to be warriors of some kind, but the oldest stood out. She had a much darker shade of red hair then any of the other siblings and wore a full set of heavy, half-plate armor. Plate armor of any kind was something that Saga had yet to see up until now. It was entirely in black, with the metal having a dull metallic tone to it. She was also the only one wearing full gear in the building, which made her stound out all the more.

One one of her shoulders had an ornate pauldron in the form of a rose with a skull in the middle. As if feeling Sagas eyes on her, the woman turned to look at Saga. Her eyes were aglow with blue light, as if lightning had been trapped within them. Saga could feel those eyes take them in, and much like Raghild, try to take the measure of them. Saga felt compelled to introduce themselves and excused themselves from from the group of dwarves and Sasha.

“Ah. This is on of our soon to be deathsworn.” She spoke as Saga approached, surpising Saga. The woman turned slightly to face them and they saw that the armor had subtle runes in silver along the edges. The woman carried herself with a brutal, honest confidence that Saga found themselves envious of.

“So That pauldron is not just for show then.” They said, motioning at the ornate rose and skull. Before the woman could respond, Olaf stepped in between to introduce them to each other. No doubt fearing a confrontation.

“Saga. This is my oldest sister. Katla. Katla, thisi s Saga.”

Katla immediately offered her arm for a shake and Saga obliged. The woman was almost as tall as Olaf, meaning she had several inches on the berserker who found themselves staring up into a scarred, severe looking face. Katla entire face was a map of her battles with them ost notable one being large, wide scar that ran across her face from the left side of her chin to her right ear.

“Deathsworn? I take it that is the title of those that hunt undead for the temple of death?” Saga asked, always curious to learn more. Especially about something that was going to affect their immediate future.

“Aye. I took the vow to hunt the undead just as you will. I saw what a shambling horde can do to a unprepared village. Told myself I would be first in the line whenever the cursed things showed up next.” Katlas way of speaking was different from most of the people Saga had spoken with since getting here. Her voice held a quiet, powerful resonance. It demanded attention without being loud.

“How is what panning out.” Saga asked, thinking about the many scares this woman accumelated.

“Well." Katla said, rolling her shoulders. "I am a level 42. So let’s say that I have been kept very busy over the years.“

Saga blinked at the last mention of such a high level. “Woha. I know Olaf and the other are around or nearing 30. But the gap between 30 and 40 must be enormous from what I understand about leveling.”

“Aye. Out of everyone here, only Father is stronger level wise. Its rare to even see you inside Sister. ” Olaf huffed and his older sister gave him a knowing grin. Saga could tell that for all the level headed presence of Katla, being in the presence of family was something the deathworn had likely missed.

“I heard there were some rumblings to the west and my Goddess called for me to return. I see why now. I do not put much heed in then notion of fate, but I dare give the Norns their due here.” She nodded to Saga and then to Sasha who was still talking Ingrid and her folks.

“I heard mention of the Norns before. Are they real?” The Berserkers mind immediately conjured the image of three crones around a weaving-chair. All fuzzing about with fate like it was nothing but a weave they were unsatisfied with.

"The Norns? Yes, they are not quite Gods from the way we understand it. They are the kind of of beings operate on a whole different level from us mortals however. They are like the True Fey and their like in a way. They are so powerful a being that they cam cause reality to bend as they seem to manipulate the the very cosmic fabric of our world itself.” Katla said as Saga listened and trying to commit to memory.

“You dont really see a Norn. But every so often, something big happens and a sudden, violent change occur. And you just know that a thread was cut and the world's weave must have shifted to account for it. The death of kings setting off a massive war, an ill fated spell ending the life of a great magi while unleashing monsters.” Olaf added. "If you feel a pull towards a place, one that you cannot ignore. It is better to go and seek it out, then try to deny it. The Norns are not entities of evil, or good. They simply weave a fabric of fate for the worlds that interest them. And they do not take kindly to stray threads that threaten to unravel their work. “‘

“Huh. Noted. Not sure how much of a fan I am of the idea that some cosmic being is tugging at my destiny to make me do things. But at this point, I am already just rolling with the punches.” Saga confessed. The idea did irk them. The Norns of Norse mythology weren't exactly benevolent beings by default. This seemed to ring true here as well, and they really hoped whatever Norn was in charge of them looked kindly upon their actions.

“Who is. But I find it best to do as well as you can with what you got and try not to get in the face of divine beings.” Katla shot a Saga grin that told the young berserker the Lady Death was something of a gossip, if Katla knew of Sagas behavior at the god chambers.

“Haha. I wish someone told me that earlier” Saga rubbed the back of their head as Olaf gave them a look that was part panicked, part impressed. Katla just laughed.

“She was impressed by the sheer audacity of it." Katla cracked a rare smile while Sagas eyebrows shot up in surpise. "She says you have no gods where you come from?” Katla asked and Saga nodded, thinking of what The Goddess had said about death in the old world was more akin to a force of nature.

“No magic either, from what I know.”

“Must be a peculiar place.”

“Can we go back to the fact that you got up into the face of Lady Death.” Olaf said, staring at Saga in disbelief. Attrid, who remained silent throughout the conversation seemed to look at Saga with different eyes. Once again, Saga felt as if they had passed a test they were even aware of yet.

“Can we not. She just waved her hand a I was helpless. The power she possess is scary as all hell.” Saga said tiredly.

“She is Death after all. What did you expect would happen?” Katla shook their head in soft admonishment.

“I dont know. I didn't expect anything. I was angry and confused.” Saga muttered a bit frustrated at the turn this conversation had taken.

“She holds no ill will, if that helps.” The deathsworn viking said with an apologetic smile.

“It does, I don't think I want to make a enemy otu of Death. I died once already.”

“Yes. I hear dying is unpleasant.” Olaf said with a deadpan expression that made Saga unsure if he had just attempted a joke or not. He wasn’t wrong though, dying had not been very pleasant. Just thinking about it made them touch the scar across their throat as if to make sure it was real.

“That's in poor taste brother” Yrsas voice rang out as the Olafs youngest sister arrived with her two sons in tow. The two had been cleaned up but looked like two compressed springs, just ready to explode from having to behave for more than ten seconds at a time. They had that nervous energy kids always had at big parties, where they just wanted to run off and do something else while the grown ups talked. But for all their apparent brattyness, they remained still and calm.

“I suppose your right. Apologies Saga”

“It’s fine. I would not suggest you try it yourself, unpleasant and all that.” Saga said with chuckle as Olaf scratched the back of his head, his body language apologetic. They didn’t want to think about it to much as they had just been talking to the Goddess of Death only a hour or so earlier. So instead they excused themselves and found where the flagons and the mead could be procured.