The Chief's longhouse was now present to the companions, their newest acquaintance Vesteger leaving them with a wave of his hand at their destination. He was holding his nose unwilling to inhale the strong scent of herbs that came from the building. Beautiful Kreoshian woods of a dark-red maple color contrasted the land's inclimate weather, it was a subject of deference to hierarchy in society. The building was imposingly flamboyant when compared to the gloom of the northern skies and the easily acquirable Cemerien Pine of the land; one which gave all other structures a greyish brown of gloomy warmth.

To Godrick and Alana, it stood out visibly amidst the surrounding buildings, lesser longhouses more typical of the common folk dotted the area. And standing out at the front, Four guards could be seen. Armed and red-haired huscarls were positioned in plain sight; they too were in service to the Skrol, guarding it against external threats.

Men and women that looked as if they were derelict in their duty, drinking the honeyed ale of the northern lands; the alcoholic beverage of choice the Slatvians had perfected in generations of service to their homeland. Conversations were being had over who had managed the best hunts, or fought the most fearsome of foes, along with tales of the felled nemeses of their youth. Laughter came from these communal conversations of warriors reflecting on their lives through fondness or mourning.

Godrick stepped towards them with a desire for introductions not believing there to be a problem when one of the warriors shifted. An inhuman feat of agility came out of the shifting guard the closest of the red-haired huscarls. Having shifted rapidly he grabbed the Pilgrim by the neck, lifting him upwards and choking Godrick with a trained ease.

The other warriors were now on proper guard, red cheeks gone from their faces and drinks on the floor. With weapons raised, an air of seriousness had settled, one in which Alana moved not an inch to. The speedy huscarl tightened once on reflex, relaxing his grip ever so slightly only once he detected that no threat would come from either. He spoke to Godrick afterward, looking directly at him, holes being drilled into his bewildered-brown eyes with a glare.

"What bear ye exile? Hossman Skrol, the Swift, stands 'fore you, huscarl of the Chieftain." He pulled Godrick closer to him; noses almost touching from the proximity.

A sigh escaped from Godrick, the aggression expected of all Northmen. But with a quick glance at Alana, he could see her smirking; as if mentally cheering him on to incite more violence. Her inner monologue was visible to him in the form of hostile encouragement, 'Ya got this ya pansy give a right socking ta his face, hahaha.' Clearing his voice after the assault to his neck Godrick spoke.

"No Ill will I assure you, my reasons will be yours, just please place me down. You are all warriors to I who is but a mere Pilgrim and scholar. Pilgrim Godrick is my name, and I seek knowledge in the arts of your Runic Language." A touch of anxiousness was still present inside him, trauma, and mystical malady affecting him in the matters of emotions and the mindscape. Yet, after countless months with the much crasser Berserker that was his companion, a new confidence was found in his voice; resonating through his past as a priest, and diplomatic in its preaching. Small hints of an unseen force beginning from Godrick and connecting to the man swaying him.

Per his request, the huscarl placed him down gentler than when he had been manhandled. Hossman Skrol looked him over once more, his suspicion clearing with the slight of a smile that crept up his face; as he spoke, a less hostile tone came from him.

"My apologies then scholar, one never knows, is all; yer still a traveling wanderer, and an outsider at that, approaching the Chief's house is not common of yer kind lest ya think of conspiracy. Late welcome to Slatvia, but I'm 'fraid yer not gone be finding much knowledge here, but for the next raid's plans, and no outsider is privy to 'em." He crossed his arms in guard waiting for the foreigner's reply.

"Aye we know's that Hossie, don't get yer trousers in a bind. Ya recognize me, ya swift lout, bet ya don't, hahaha." Alana stepped forward, her voice an echo to these men and women elites of the Skrols, they had almost forgotten her if not for the boisterous personality she sported.

"Lannie? What in Marni's scrat, happened to ya? Yer face has been marred with the beauties of struggles and battles. By his sword lass, yer a right she devil now ain't 'cha? hahaha." More laughter came as Hossman stepped forward and embraced her, a gentle side hug that she turned into a proper one.

"Ya know it, kin," She said, then pointed back at Godrick.

"This here be my current mate, I vouch fer him so let us go see uncle. I'm sure he misses dear me no?"

"Indeed. Let 'em through, the Princess be returning. Make way and stand clear. She's got her strengths back, so only our toughest could fight her now."

Cheers went through and Godrick turned to Alana asking "Princess huh? What princess runs away with sword in hand, to sail and battle as a mere Swordhand of the Empire? And to that, you are still quite young, at what age did you exile yourself on your "quest" for power."

"A Skrol princess that's whom." She stuck her tongue out at him hurrying her pace forward, ignoring his second question and moving past the doorway of the longhouse; the final destination that today held for them.

A loud booming cry rang out, shocking Godrick with its might-filled mirth. 'Lannie!' he heard in a disbelieving exclamation, followed by stampeding footfalls. Holding his breath for a second and exhaling, he calmed himself as he walked through the wooden doorway of the entrance chamber.

-----

"Uncle! So good to see ya!" Alana exclaimed hugging her uncle Barnas, the current chieftain of Slatvia. Her petite form sank into his large frame.

He was a man of massive stature and weight; at seven feet tall and eleven inches it was almost comedic to see how Alana would disappear into him. His heft totaled six hundred pounds, adding to his already incomprehensible mass. However, despite such an intimidating form the petite warrior sunk into the folds of his muscles and fat with childish giddy and abandon; a true showing of their kinship.

"My dear princess, my princess oh how I've missed ye!" Tears came out of his eyes in waterworks, years of concern for the missing family member showing through them.

He placed her back down happily as he noticed Godrick's presence stepping past the doorway. Just as he was about to shout him out of the chamber, he halted when...

"Calm down kin, the Pilgrims with me. Let's get acquainted, I'm sure ya got boats of questions for me." The Chieftain settled, validating the man's presence in their reunion. He was still weary of what this meant and the tidings it could bring.

"What in the Dark Upper has brought ya back on to us my dear? It has been so long and yer new visage is a spelling of enchantment and struggles. Yer a true beauty of a warrior now." Pride could be seen coming off him, his aura poking into Alana's, she could see it through her peculiar gift; the onyx gems she held in place of human eyes. Her expression changed to one of a challenge as a smirk appeared on her unleashing her Bloodlust into his aura.

"Hahaha. Ya've gone and done it ya beautiful mad fool hahaha. Ya solidified yer founding, yer roots are solid as the world tree; show me! Show me more!" Another mad grin joined hers, the familial resemblance clearly presenting itself to Godrick; their unhinged expression revealing them both as obsessors in the domineering forms of martial skill, whether of the spiritual or physical.

"Show me the legendary strength of them berserker's lass, show me their fighting spirit!"

His Aura expulsed itself out from him in inundating waves of oppression. Any lesser being would have found it hard to breathe through the suppression. If Godrick had not known better, he would have assumed this man on the level of a god as well, but he knew better now. Through circumstances that exposed him to beings of catastrophic floodlike powers, he was slowly getting used to the idea of a much bigger world. It of course did not help him in breathing any more than back then, the crushing battle of wills happening between the two maddened warriors was actively choking him harder than the Huscarl that had physically performed the action, earlier.

"We'll see then, ya sodden fool." Her insanity overtook her eyes, dilating them into swirling blue and black spirals of psychopathy.

Yet, instead of a disorderly act of aural coverage, as her uncle had performed. Smothering the red vestiges of her bloodlust. This power of hers took on a corporeal and transparent state of solidity; everyone else could see the aura she manifested with its slight red hue. It acted as a tool, withstanding the unseen power of her kin and shaving away expertly at the mass of his power. Nothing came out of it sadly, his aura an ocean to her candling bloodlust.

With a shout borne out of their inherent lunacy, he blew her away, sending the petite berserker smashing through the wooden walls of his office chamber. She barreled through the hearth of the longhouse, a small tear falling from his pride-filled face. He spoke.

"She's grown so much. After so many years; she's finally back. Oh how gorgeous she is, coming back at such a class of her own. My apologies fer any earlier transgressions Pilgrim. But as ya know, we bare not the outsiders here." He said solemnly without stopping and continued.

"Are ya tha' one to finally lock that she-devil in union? Speak or I'll think the lesser of ya." The Chief directed his words to Godrick without looking away from the imprint his kin had left through the wall. Feelings of hostility high against the strange oathbreaker, mixed with his kin's defense towards his character.

"I am not so lucky to have that honor chief, though not for a lack of her charm might I say. I am Promised you see, and my heart belongs to another who I fear may not understand my current status." Opening himself up to the strangely kind, yet, hostile Barnas; Godrick hoped no misunderstandings would arise from his arrival.

"Well, yer at least pleasing to womenfolks eyes. Might be another tale when she clutches ya in her claws or fangs whichever way she attempts it is downright mad of her, but Berserkers are passionate like that. She wouldn't just follow anyone around, least of all if they're not appealing to her gaze." He said decrepitly at his niece's antics.

"So tell me, what has brought the both of ya back here; all the way from, I'm guessing the Aquila?" Barnas continued questioning him, his hospitality now welcoming toward the stranger as he pulled a seat next to the long table that was present in the chambers. Barnas thought the man was at least honorable enough to stay true to his beloved, despite his own kin's insatiable lust. He deserved not to be treated harsher than what the demons of his mind did through his insecurities.

"Yes, should we go get your niece? The uh... damage to your longhouse certainly seems somewhat severe." Godrick said pointing at the human-shaped hole in the wall, worried for his safety without a stalwart companion.

The damage she must have received from the... What even was it, was it a magical, physical, or a sonic blow? Should he even classify it as a form of attack? Regardless of it, he worried about her current state the months of travel turning her into an endearing partner he could not do without.

"Not to worry just give 'er a sec?" Barnas responded pulling out two more chairs with the response.

And just like he predicted Alana came in bursting through the doorway again, chips of wood dangling from her hair. Her unhinged grin was fixed wider now in challenge to her recent defeat.

"Best two, out of three uncle, I was closer this time definitely." Holding up two fingers and ignoring the comical imprint she had left behind to the left of her. The violence of the bloodlust emerged from her once more, albeit in a less tangible way.

"Know yer place childer, ya lost fair an' square. Now sit, come; we've matters to discuss no? I'm not so senile yet as to believe yer here fer a reunion." He said patting her seat, Godrick could already be seen sitting down obediently, not daring to invoke his ire in any way.

An angered pout of frustration plastered itself on her face in denial, but her movements indicated assent as she joined them.