HIGH PRIEST

RP blog for Tore Skjeggestad, the Last Atmoran, High Priest of Bromjunaar

[highpricst]

LINKS :: ABOUT (m) | RULES (m) | MEME TAG | OC TAG | THREAD TRACKER BLOGROLL:: BREINA RIVLIN | TORE SKJEGGESTAD | ?

TORE SKJEGGESTAD: Independent, mostly Skyrim-based fantasy OC. Written by HRAFN, 25+ (he/him). Mid-low activity, depending on other commitments.

a study in: NECROMANCY, 'If a person holds ambitions, he suffers knowingly, but very slowly', rebuilding a shattered life, the cost of uncompromising ambition, regret, knowing you're wrong but being trapped by your past actions, finding your place when you are alien to the world. travelling with: @evergloaming (his wife), @icewolfcaptain (his cousin)

[highpricst]

friendly reminder you can find tore these days @deathswcrn <3

[ofmanderley]

uhtred and ragnar ragnarsson - the last kingdom season two

@flowers-in-your-hayr @serasvictoria @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @vannabanana1995​

[highpricst]

honestly tempted to just. stick tore's cultists on here as secondary muses. especially kalfr and hroerekr.

[r0sgifs]

[deathswcrn-a]

i have laundry to do today and i have some food presents to make up for my brother's family so i'm off doing that today; grab me on discord (feel free to ask for it if we're mutuals!)

[highpricst]

come say hello to tore, the man who will make your life exponentially worse for a tiny amount of personal gain

[f4rgd]

It's comfortable, almost homely but it's been so long since he's known what that feels like it's hard to imagine it again. Still, it's the type of place he could happily stay in and the people seem more friendly than anybody he usually comes across in the city, he's there to serve them after all - not be their friend. He can stay for a while but he carries on, or he hopes he can anyway, but he'll have to return home eventually.

Curious eyes look around the longhouse and glance towards the fire watching the flames crackle and emit warmth. " It is comfortable. " He'd happily agree to as much. But on the command he rolls his eyes and huffs underneath his breath before raising his leg. " If you must - though I intend to plant my ass here for some time... like you said, it is comfortable. " Not to mention his legs were tired, especially after taking that hit.

Aksel rolled up his pant to reveal the site of the injury, it didn't look so terrible now Tore had healed it for the most part. It was bruised, the area were the wound was wasn't entirely healed either but he could walk on it even if it was still somewhat painful. " It can heal by itself. There's no need to waste your energy on it. "

[highpricst]

Tore smiled down at Aksel, relaxing by the fire, looking content there. "Remain comfortable. My doors are always open." He would be a poor Norlander if he turned away those in need of hospitality - it was beaten into them at a young age that a stranger at the door be in need of food or lodging, he ought to provide as best he can. "And if you care to stay even longer, we're always recruiting," said Tore, with an almost tongue-in-cheek quality to his voice - only joking as not to pressure Aksel into considering it, but certainly planting the idea within the smith's mind. "Meals, lodging, a salary. A good weaponsmith would be welcome indeed."

Whilst one side of the medic's pouch was made up of dried herbs, the other was full of little envelopes, all stamped with a different symbol. Tore pulled one out with a little crossed symbol on the front, like a pair of beorc runes back-to-back, and emptied the contents into his hands - pre-organised for the spells he wanted to cast quickly. He crumbled them in his palm, which flooded with warm light, light he infused into Aksel's leg until the wound stitched and all that remained to show for it would be aches and the still blotchy purple and green bruising. "There. The limits of my skill, I'm afraid."

Kálfr returned with plates of food and steins of ale - he dropped one of the steins by the bard's side, but the rest he brought to the table. The plates were loaded with simple, but good food - slices of bacon and sausage, fresh fruit, bread, butter and cheese, and little side-plates for them to take what pleased them. Kálfr sat down at the table across from them, greeting Aksel with a nod and a broad smile. "Forgive my curiosity. I love meeting newcomers. What brings you out here?"

[highpricst]

if you just saw me reblog an untrimmed post no you didn't

[katabasiiis-moved]

She considered arguing, briefly - very briefly, and mostly out of habit. The blanket he draped around her was warm and soft, and took all the fight out of her. She nodded, fighting distractedly to get an arm free of the blanket so she could call his cat onto her lap. The poor thing looked - well, more confused than usual, at the sudden and inexplicable loss of its bed, and ignored her to stare forlornly at the spot it had recently occupied.

You have a fate. She knew exactly what fate he meant; he promised her death as pillow talk, murmuring her doom with his head between her thighs. One of them would kill the other if he had his way, and likely sooner than later. Sigrid had never particularly wanted to kill him, save for her daydreams of throttling him when he encouraged Ulfric's worse ideas and was in general an absolute fucking pain in her ass. She would do it if she had to, if he forced her, but she didn't want to.

Even less now that he was caring for her like this.

"You don't have to do that," she said softly. "I'll go upstairs. Just make sure I don't fall and break my neck. I wouldn't want to disappoint you when you want to kill me later."

[highpricst]

Tore studied her face, watched her try and fail to lure Dúnkenndur into her arms - probably for the best, given that he had no sense of balance or his own strength and would probably make things worse, even though he had stitched up most of the damage. She was bitter, exhausted. She needed rest and she needed, for tonight at least, to leave the outside world outside.

"I will not deny the God of Fate," was all he made mention of her jab at his desire to kill her. Not even desire, not really - the ritual slaughter of another dragon was Alduin and Alduin's responsibility alone, and all he wanted was to be the one to present him the opportunity. He understood Sigrid's anger, but it was inevitable, written into the stars. All he was trying to do was make sure things happened at their correct time and place. Not crossing the Woodland Man was good sense.

"No. It will be easier to bring water and heat it if the tub is down here. Stay." He only really stored the thing upstairs because it was out of the way there, anyway. With his warnings made, he took himself upstairs and dragged the thing from the corner he kept it and down the stairs. It wasn't anything particularly fancy - basically a mead barrel cut in half with legs and enough room for one person of Sigrid's size. Once it was by the fire, he began to fetch buckets of cold water to fill it, heating it with fire magic as he went.

When it was mostly full and blisteringly hot, like he knew Sigrid liked it, he gestured for her to use his hand to get up.

[highpricst]

this was my first ever attempt at making Tore in BG3 and i cannot believe how well I did it first time. I never nail an OC on my first pass and yet; look at him. No notes. Exactly as I wanted him to come out. The only change I've ever made is messing with tattoos and hair styles.

[tyrantsuggestion]

Take my hand—for some semblance of security, of promise, of peace.

But pray, do not mind the claws which grip thine flesh.

[highpricst]

i should make it clear, in most verses, tore is a hardcore accelerationist. he, through isolation, abuse and indoctrination, fully believes that a) the world he knows will come to an end, and b) his ONLY PATH to survival of that apocalyptic reshaping is to BE THE ONE ON TOP when it all goes to shit - or failing that, he has to be so pivotal in events that his name lives on after him. it is not healthy and i'm convinced he would probably work himself into genuine physical illness by forty through the sheer stress if he lived that long given how much he makes his anxieties everyone else's headache

[tyrantsuggestion]

The cold seeps into your veins, replacing the blood that is lost

[clara-eternal-deactivated202407]

[ @highpricst sent a meme ] 'i don’t know . i want to be your friend , i guess'

A friend? She regarded the man before her with a hint of trepidation, mulling over the notion of companionship. How long had it been since she could claim to have a friend? How many months had passed since she departed from her home, leaving behind the comfort of familiarity? Though it felt like years, the reality was mere months ago. Yet, the prospect of returning now, in the wake of her perceived failure, filled her with apprehension and uncertainty.

Perhaps, she thought, a friend was precisely what she needed. The roads were dangerous and lonely, particularly for a lone half-elf navigating the unfamiliar territories beyond the sanctuary of her grove. The thought of having someone to lean on, to share the burdens of solitude, offered a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows that threatened to consume her.

"Very well," she responded, her smile warm and genuine. "I graciously accept your offer. I could never turn down the chance for a friend."

[highpricst]

Clara had been easy to sway. And Tore felt a little bad about admitting it - she was such a sweet thing, really - but convincing her that he truly, at his heart, wanted to be her friend was a little like befriending a puppy. A scratch here, a treat offered there, and she had become pliable underneath his hands, susceptible to an offer of friendship. The only reason he did not feel bad was that he knew if he could convince her to not only join the Order of the Wyrm, but could reveal to her, in time, the Cult of the Dragon beneath? Then he could save her from the End Times, too.

None-the-less, despite his mild pang of guilt, he played his part, and played it well - when she accepted, he smiled, the warmest smile he could muster. "I'm very glad to hear it. I value my friendships very highly, Clara. I'd like to introduce you to some others, if you would be amenable to the journey to my home in Baldur's Gate."

Some of the cult members - Hrothmar, his apprentice, for instance. But mostly, he intended to bring her back to the Order, to the other initiates within it. He suspected she would find the warm, welcoming nature of the married couple of Hrœrekr and Kálfr a balm for her lonely soul. Suspected Agnarr's charm, Reidar's down to earth sensibilities, Bergljót's fascination for the earth would all draw Clara in deeper - if she could agree to visit.

[f4rgd]

Even though he'd spent many of his years keeping to himself he knew and had spoken to enough of his customers to know better than to give away too much information. While he mentioned that he knew Breina, he knew he'd be best to keep his lips sealed in case he said too much. She had her own secrets and whilst he wasn't the most intelligent he was ever loyal and dependable. " That is the one, yes. " But he also knew the signs of someone pressing for information and Tore wasn't, it almost seemed as he withdrew a little - the paladin thought better of it and said nothing more. He didn't want to pry when the other may as well have saved his life.

He follows after him and there's a small limp in his step and his leg certainly feels bruised but he's not bleeding out nor is there an arrow head stuck in it - he has no room to complain now. When they reach the farmstead curious eyes look around at his surroundings and then to the man stood in front of him. " Kálfr. " Aksel nods and gives the man what he hopes is a reassuring smile - he doesn't want to make him think he has an ulterior motives.

" I have no preference, I'll take anything at this point. " He had only a little water left so just about any drink that passed his lips now would be preferable to that. Again he tried to offer the stranger a smile and then took another look around. " Is this where you live then or...? " When he only left the city so often he didn't get explore much but even so he'd never heard or even come across this place until Tore had brought him here. " It looks.. comfortable, actually. "

[highpricst]

"We would appreciate some ale, then, Kálfr, and something to eat." Kálfr nodded and ushered them inside the great hall at the center of the farmstead, out of the sun. The styling of the building was that of the Norland region of the Moonshaes - a longhouse with a thatched roof and the great heads of dragons carved into every section of the supports. Inside was cool and quiet, aside from a few people milling about at work, plus a handsome olive-skinned bard sat by the fire and plucking on a lute that Kálfr spoke briefly to, kissed, and then left.

"We do live here, myself and many more of my order," said Tore, offering Aksel a seat at one of the great tables flanking the firepit in the center of the longhouse. He smiled, more to himself than Aksel, as he looked around - at the farm outside, at the comfortable building inside. "I suppose I am fortunate. We have had luck with wealth and the locals, and as much as it makes us a target-" he gestured the direction they came from, the bandits that had attacked them both "-it also means we are quite comfortable."

Sitting beside the spot he'd reserved for Aksel, he slung his pack from his shoulders and dug inside, bringing out a variety of items - some herbs, a magical focus, a little dragon-shaped amulet, and more still. Eventually, he found what he was looking for - a medic's kit, buried deep within the pack. "Roll up your trouser leg - I'm not sending you away again unless I know for certain your wound is healed fully."

[highpricst]

absolutely personally obsessed with "dragonslayer as a mask for the dragon cultist who is itself a mask for a terrified isolated and lonely young man" for tore's bg3 verse. masks are ALWAYS a massive part of him but dude we're operating on several layers at this point. do YOU know who the real tore is or are you masks all the way down, dude?