ᚺᚨᛈᛈᛋᚲᛖᛃᛏᚱ

lothar. berserker and former mercenary. warrior. mortal affiliated with the warrior's guild.

[prcspero]

The hand on his shoulder was a bigger comfort than the other would ever truly understand. Or maybe Lothar did get it and that was why he did it. Prospero couldn't imagine that such a thought was going through the brute's head though. The only thing he could think about was if he would suddenly start falling again. He had both been on the brink of death and died more times than he cared to admit within the past year alone. Now all he wanted to do was just rest. That was what Damakos had sacrificed his soul for, wasn't it? So that his brother could live? He let out a sigh and took his hat off before turning his head. "Ready for what's next? You mean there's more?" A hand went through his hair as he let out a breathy chuckle. "Just crush my head between your arms before I have to go through anything else. It'll be a noble death. Enjoyable, even."

[lotharx]

Toth had tried to turn the gargantuan brute into a chew toy, but it was still Prospero who had suffered most between the two of them. "Even I am smart enough to figure that defeating a god is not all there is to this puzzle," Lothar's eyes glanced around momentarily, before they focused back on the druid, fearless and earnest; they were death-touched, but still came out on the other side of this each time. Lothar no longer focused on the possibility that each encounter would be their last, instead he fought valiantly and the burning mark on his chest only urged him all the farther. "Enjoyable, maybe, but not the honorable one you deserve," a meaty, sweaty arm looped fully around Prospero's neck, pulling the druid close, though the barbarian was careful not to truly crush him.

[lotharx]

starter for @prcspero.

where: we're out and aboot ( post hero's unite, we're still on da battlefield ! )

when: current timeline

note: battle boyfwends

Lothar was no longer propelled by the rage of any barbarian brew and the barbarian, now relatively normal in stature, walked up behind Prospero and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He needed such tangibility, to know the other was not about to fall through the floorboards again and be swept to some hellish lands, and though the battle had been finished, there was still much to be done towards Iskaldrik's salvation. If there was anything worth salvaging in such destitute lands, pilfered by Aetherian magic and destroyed further by what gods had trampled here. Prospero looked.... well, the other had better days, but Lothar smacked him - a tamed action considering his typical strength - lightly on the shoulder and mustered a grin, "Ready for what's next?"

[alessiathepath]

Alessia's shared grin faltered as the man put his arm down. She wondered if Lothar was being particularly gentle, and it set forth an instinctive chain reaction of frustration and annoyance. Being seen as weak had once been very dangerous. But here? She visibly tampered down the instinct. The grin returned, small and tentative. Who knew how much social maturity could be learned through proximity to other's, and a safe environment? Much about the witch had changed throughout the months, sometimes dramatically, but mostly in ways as subtle as an assassin's gait.

"No mourners, no funerals," Alessia mused, her smile wry. "Alrik and I used to believe that we'd die out in the world and no one would notice or care. And it was better that way for us. We'd even made it a pledge of sorts." She grimaced in anticipatory disgust as she lifted the bowl to her mouth. "At the time I guess it was better." After a few deep gulps of the medication, Alessia glared at the bowl as she put it down to wipe her mouth.

She shuddered again, massaged her offended throat, and gazed over at Lothar as her expression sobered. Everything about the feeling of flipping of bronze coins, watching as they fell on blood, had felt so changeless. Infinite. She'd do the same thing again in a fortnight and it would be all she thought about. Until the changeless suddenly changed, and even the snow under her boots was gone... until the impermanence of all things was so clear it was irrefutable. "But I'm not wishful enough to think that you won't notice this time. Or Prospero. Or, frankly, quite a few people now...." There was a small strength of silence as she stared at Lothar, willing unspoken sentiments into his head. Alessia raised her brows pointedly, as though that could emphasize the point better. Much of Alessia's communication had always been silent; like she just hoped certain people could sense her invisible aura of affection.

Lothar couldn't die alone anymore, nor without mourners. Then she smiled drily, putting down her bowl. "Shit changes. Though, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think Asbjorn Hart died with any regrets - and he knew we'd miss him."

[lotharx]

“In the moment it does feel better,” Lothar stated this with finality, gruffed out in some miserable tone as he realized they were on a similar wavelength in thought. The barbarian raised a brow as Alessia ruthlessly gulped down the medication, only clicking his tongue as she shuddered once it was downed. “You should get used to such offensive remedies, our journey is still only in the beginning stages.” Lothar mustered a grin to this, but it felt hollow, inspired by the violence within battle, but not from any glory or valor hidden within. 

Such testaments of violence would be grueling, it would continue to try and separate his family, pry them apart, but the barbarian would never quit trying to get them home again. “I've come to realize it's alright to care for others,” openly said as though not relating to what Alessia was possibly feeling, but more accepting it as his own thought and realization. There was a fine line to tread with Alessia, she often found such emotions and threads offensive, but he was pleased they'd both come to find some happy medium of these sentiments. 

“I can only hope that is true of your father,” but he would never speak for another man, nor the family he had left behind as he strode towards Valhalla. “-For he will never know what has come to be, what warriors he has created from his loss.”

[lotharx]

starter for @alrikhart.

where: we're out and aboot

when: current timeline

note: get thy lick back part 2 electric bugaloo

Lothar had refused to slow down while others crawled from the collateral. He'd never been a patient man, often restless and reckless as a result, but it came from a survivalist's passion and a mere human in a world soiled with magic. It'd taken time for him to appreciate magic, understand it wasn't all inherently sour, but such dark arts were brimming, ready to burst the seams of this world and implode; Lothar would not allow this, even if it meant his end finally. "Your fight is not yet over," Lothar had respected this.... retirement of Alrik's, but he'd not let it stand any longer; they were better as a unit, fighting darkness together and there had been whispers of something within Iskaldrik that Lothar needed to know about.

[lotharx]

starter for @jovethebarbarian.

where: some woofy woods?

when: current timeline

note: as discussed, thanks for your patience sorry this was delayed < 3

Lothar had another day or two of a journey ahead of him. He'd remained focused, perhaps unhealthily so, on pouring his energy into accepting any and every guild contract which came his way. The effects of the Kossith ship still lingered heavily in the quotidian lives of many and though Lothar had not endured such horror himself there was this great clashing of guilt within him as he looked upon those he cared about who indeed had suffered. Ignorance indeed was bliss and so it toed a similar breath of avoidance and off he often went.

The barbarian, too, was still rather old school; abolishing any use of portals to get him to far off locations quicker. In Iskaldrik they hadn't had such craft to blip from one place to another and Lothar appreciated the hardship of merely going along by foot. Still, a rest was needed as evening would soon be upon him and the barbarian sat on a fallen tree trunk, pulling his axe from the resting place upon his shoulder to plunge it slightly into the loose soil around him.

Lothar paused, some displeased grunt escaping him as he felt a pair of eyes on him from the tree line, "It'd be best to get on your own way or make yourself known already." He was a man of little interest in games, but Lothar certainly was never afraid of finishing them if need be.

[xxdrixx]

The Punisher Season 1 Episode 02 - Two Dead Men

for @castle-of-ruin 💕

[alessiathepath]

Alessia, in the past many months, had shown that she could speak in more than just blunt remarks, sarcasm, or dark humour. She had become quite open in explaining, regaling and even (sometimes, though rarely) complimenting. Sometimes, even more conversational than her storyteller brother. Her nose twitched as she recalled the ingredients, but she recited them with no hint of impatience. "Elderberry, garlic extract, ginger, with honey and hot water. Alone the ingredients sound great but it looks about as good as I feel when I'm drinking it," she grumbled. Indeed, it was a dark color with mucous-looking ends. She casted her eyes around the room for something, moving only when she saw her potted flower.

"Echinacea," she explained, picking one, walking back and crushing the petals within her fist. Lothar would have gotten used to seeing Alessia's odd, random plants here and there. Eventually, he would have found out they weren't meant for aesthetics and most of them made great poisons when the witch treated them to chemistry. Once upon a time, the young witch could not have used magic for her remedies and potions. Coneflowers were the rare purely medical variety, and also aesthetic. (Alessia's favorite color for flowers was pink, as she always bought those.)

She sprinkled the petals into the soup. It looked... a little better. "I had to figure out a lot of weird mixes for our dad in Iskaldrik. You're a barbarian..." Her tone took on more forced lightness as she hesitated. Alessia didn't really speak of her and Alrik's father. "I'm sure you realize that the older you get, the more those potions are going to hurt your body."

[lotharx]

When Lothar had asked what it was he had not expected a slew of ingredients to be rattled off by Alessia, his face proved this as it settled from bewildered to still slightly overwhelmed at the idea of such herbs and tonics. A barbarian, yes, but one who blindly supplemented such rage inducing brews and tonics to ensure he was victorious in battle; it was only recently that Lothar wondered if he should take better care and preservation for himself.

Within the barren wilds of Iskaldrik often the barbarian faired well for himself, he needn't know the stark differences between a deadly plant or a poisoned berry, villages and even lone cabins were often dotted along the frigid tundra that was his former, now destroyed, home. "Hold your nose and toss it down the hatch," snorted contemptuously but in a sense of good humor as his hand lifted to pat her on the back before it fell down to the table; in her frail state he'd rather not sprain her rib by accident.

Alessia spoke of her father and such descriptors were often vague and said in passing; similar to how Alrik presented the other barbarian. Lothar didn't mind, in some ways he honored their father without ever knowing the man and he could see, within their eyes, that their relationship with him was a complicated one, much like their tether to Lothar. "Unlike your father, I made peace with dying; no ties, no family, nobody to weep if I was gone," but that was before I met you miserable lot Lothar wanted to say but even the barbarian knew when to bite his tongue.

[darlingshane]

Jon Bernthal for GQ Style 2021 | Unpublished shots

[alessiathepath]

Date: They've all had some time to heal now Location: Home Characters: @lotharx & @alessiathepath Notes: Permission has been given to blast you with connection starters <3 - also, the sickness isn't serious, it's literally just from exposure

Alternating between swimming with the wood tucked beneath her arms, and just floating, Alessia tried to thank Fate for the summer's heat. (Cold water is more merciless than starvation.) She was able to find land eventually, and then heave herself onto glorious sand with clawing fingernails and gasping sobs. Looking like a wet vagabond, and sneezing like a plague victim, her feet trailed the dirt paths of somewhere until a kind soul took pity. And then more kind souls took pity in Haven.

She was pale, and still sneezing fitfully, but with wakeful eyes and a desperate need for familiarity, she had found Lothar. Their hug had been silent then, though she recalled trembling in his arms, and holding on far too tightly. He did not hover like old Runa used to, but Alessia appreciated that. She saw how much he cared, and she had seen her own relief mirrored in Lothar's eyes when they found Alrik and Prospero too.

Their night was slow that evening, and so Alessia had found the courage to tell their patient Barbarian more than just vague remarks about how 'it was hard, but we're alive.' She had just finished regaling him all on how she had made it back to land, but anything that had happened to her, or Alrik or Prospero, while on the ship had yet to be spoken of through her lips. "... And then, of course, I found out I can still get sick after surviving an explosion, just cause of 'weakness' and 'exposure. they said..." She sniffled as she, mixed her bowl's contents. "Lucky timing though. The Kossith would have preferred to throw me overboard than deal with making any of us... medicinal slop." She grimaced distastefully, lifting some of the gooey soup up with the mixing spoon.

"Wanna try?" A weak but meaningful attempt at humour.

[lotharx]

How often he underestimated his permanence in another's life. Lothar would have never expected nor presumed Alessia to come to such a reasoning to ever hug him, but with trembling limbs and fearful eyes eclipsed by the simple fact of her survival, Alessia was hanging onto the barbarian, holding on as though she'd somehow slip back into the waters in which she hence came from. There'd always been this cruel barrier, chosen by Lothar, to stand between himself and this found family unit; he was a man displaced, a moth to the flame of violence, and he didn't wish for anyone to ever want for or to miss him. Somehow, within this lonesome pursuit, he'd gained a rather ragtag of siblings, their dream druid, and Prospero to boot.

How often he'd grimace at the thought of the precarious situations they often got wrapped up in, but today Lothar reciprocated the hug, and the barbarian indeed squeezed her tight enough as though whatever was cracked and fractured by the Kossith could thus be amended by such simple and loving act. Silently, eventually, both pulled away and never said much about the hug and it was only when Lothar lumbered towards the direction of Prospero's home did things inevitably fall back into something which replicated their normal rhythm.

Lothar's face instinctually curled not only at the mention of the Kossith but at whatever concoction Alessia was creating for her ailments. A hand was waved to deny her obvious attempt at humor but still Lothar's curiosity won out, "What is it?" He couldn't imagine it would have any similar vitalizing affect as any berserkers brew but Alessia was indeed a witch so he had to wonder if it had magical properties or was simply some withstanding Iskaran recipe from home.

[lotharx]

starter for @alrikhart.

where: alrik's shop since he's retired from being a baddie

when: current timeline

note: my boi! short and sweet for you to get your lick back <3

"This is what compels your spirit these days?" Alrik rarely found himself around Prospero's home since all three - four counting the dream druid - had been retrieved from the violence of their journey on the Kossith dreadnought. Lothar indeed was a simple man and though he could understand the pain each endured and the emotional torment that could stem from it, the barbarian was also, somehow, proficient in breezing by such feelings in a casual regard. Alrik had never said much on the horrors witnessed, each of them were silent when prodded about it, but even Lothar could see how all of them were altered indelibly from the experience and it left Lothar feeling perturbed.

The barbarian was situated in the doorway, the forge was too hot on any regular day, but the sun had been blazing in the sky for hours now and it only added to the brutal heat within Alrik's workspace. "At least tell me what you're working on, and that you do not accept just any job which comes your way." As an Iskaran he had a very skewed opinion on the craft even if he likely could not make anything worth it's salt himself.

[spiralailani]

The relevance of the modifications click, finally, when he begins to explain that the carvings should personalize the weapon to their owner. With as many conflicts as they are seeing, bodies are beginning to pile, and after a while, they will all look the same. Magic can be used to recognize the corpses, but when that is not an option, something like a recognizable weapon is likely to go a long way. 

“Oh, I quite like that,” she admits after hearing the story behind his first carving. “It definitely will feel bolstering, to carry such a reminder with you into battle. I am beginning to understand the appeal.”

[lotharx]

"It should tell your story, especially when you are about to end another's," yes, sometimes even the barbarian with abysmal intelligence and wisdom could possess a deep thought, but his greataxe was the very extension of himself; it explained Lothar in it's entirety. Lothar stood, each day the war drums of the Kossith grew closer, "I expect, when I see you next, to have something that speaks to your character, Lailani." The barbarian managed a mild smile at this, merely verbally poking at the other.

[xdeimosx]

Deimos tilted his head, though he looked expectantly down at the body, "Care to take him, then? I've had a bit of a rough day." The druid had little patience, and the exhaustion from being a prisoner for weeks and saving someone's life had about taken every last bit of compassion from Deimos' bones. Lothar looked like he was sturdy enough, didn't shower often, and lived on the land – he'd do fine taking the body.

[lotharx]

Lothar could have been obstinate over the order, but the barbarian crouched and threw the collapsed person over his shoulder with ease; to his relief they were still breathing, albeit shallowly. "Were you an emissary of Haven?" Poor Lothar pretending to know what he was talking about as he turned to walk in the direction of said wolf city.

[lotharx]

Lothar hummed in some sense of recognition to her explanation, though it sounded more like a perturbed grunt. Still, the barbarian would not elaborate beyond this mere gesture, nodding only after a brief pause. Seriswyn spoke of her time in Iskaldrik next, nothing that painted a picture that could end in anything but tragedy. "I had resided in Iskaldrik much of my very long and winded mortal life," he teased this considering the true longevity of the elvhen in comparison to mortals, "They always believed they were safe once they condemned magic, but true monsters do not have to live among us to destroy us." The vuldak who had slaughtered his own had merely been passing through when his families blood had stained the cottage he'd grown up in. Lothar wasn't sure what he was trying to say, the barbarian never had much depth, but it felt something of any apology for her losses.

There was some triumphant sense in his posture as the elvhen's fingers slid over the freshly etched rune, Lothar nodding once in this affirming sense. He was confident they would prevail even if blood was spilt.

[seriswyn]

“It was certainly an interesting place,” Seriswyn said of Iskaldrik. “I was not able to meet many of its people, for obvious reasons. But the region I inhabited held great beauty. I hope the land will rise once more to its formal glory, though you’ll excuse my questionable opinion of its politics.” She looked at him and understood the joke hidden within his phrasing. It entertained her, but she didn’t quite smile. “I won’t live a fraction of the length of the Elvhen you may have read about or met since. I had hoped to opt for a life well spent, not long lived. It is something I admire about those who are not born with the Light, there is more of an appreciation and less of a passivity.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think much is truly safe,” Seriswin admitted sadly. She left the rune be for the time being, but her eyes lingered on it. “I hope those will help. I will keep an eye out for them.”

[lotharx]

end.

[darlingshane]

Jon Bernthal as 'The Bear' THE AMATEUR (2025)

[lotharx]

This one was much more attuned to their emotions than Lothar would ever be, but he thought of his family often. Family had been the drive for his entire existence and he wasn't ever sure what he was meant to glean from losing them. A vuldak had destroyed his blood, a mother and a father who'd never wanted for much outside of Iskaldrik, and it had left Lothar alive just on the spur of cruelty. But he'd found it, avenged them, allowed their spirits to rest knowing that their sacrifice had been paid. He couldn't imagine having to lose another, one he had collected bit by bit; frangible pieces, scrabbled together in some gauche sight that represented some cobbled mosaic of a found family.

"Thora is an honorable warrior," he'd known her from the Guild, respected her, and would not mourn her for even a moment before attempting to fight for her and the others captured. Lothar couldn't speak on the others, he wouldn't speak on those he did not know and the barbarian did his best to speak on those he did.

"I'm not sure I had a foothold in this world, nor a heart in my chest, until I came to know them. I've wandered a long time, inflicted pain with no real purpose; when the Kossith see me, this pain and this bloodshed, it will have meaning. For yours and for mine." That was a promise he intended to keep, "All three - four - are strong in their own ways - Brute strength, of mind, of power, if any are wise enough to break free it is them. One has already been captured once before, faced the troubles of darkspawn; Kossith should be easy." He would underestimate them, their legends, their plight against the blight, until he could see the Kossith himself with the blade of his ax at their throats.

[zelihatheflight]

Zeliha managed a smile full of hope, rather than just sympathy. His family sounded strong - strong in the way that was likely going to be the best indicator of their survival, logically. But she would have prayed hard for these folk and held hope for Lothar even if that had not been the case.

But the now brighter flicker of hope had her smile widening. She reached over and squeezed his hand between both of her's. "The family of Lothar. I will add them to my strongest prayers so that they feel your affection... and that they return to you." She would let go of his hand then, gently. "When the Kossith took the people we both love, it sounds as though they had no idea what they were in for." Her voice, and the crinkle of her eyes, held a note of pride.

At the moment, Zeliha wished nothing more but to sit in pensive silence with the older warrior, keeping him steady and constant company. Even if he didn't pray with her, she'd pray with him. But the wolves were running, and noise of fear and unrest still filled the air of Haven. Violence would be arriving, even if not everyone remained to fight. And her prayers would need to wait for nightfall when the caravans were all loaded up. So, Zeliha stood and looked down at Lothar with steady resilience. "You just make sure you're still here to greet them, okay?"

[lotharx]

end.

[xdeimosx]

That was at least good news, and perhaps the preferred one. How many would've been able to get away had they been forced to march on the Kossith instead of shipped away to conquer other things and be forced to serve in Itzcoatal? "Good. And the rest of the army?" He looked at the stranger, though he eventually looked down at the body he'd pulled as well. "You know them?"

[lotharx]

"Tails tucked between their legs once their leader fell," Lothar looked as though he was bearing his teeth as he stated this; the barbarian had itched for a battle, though the alpha of the Feronia pack had fought well to provide victory for her lands and he had no true complaints in lieu of this. Grimly, Lothar simply shook his head, "No. There are medical tents set up not far from here." He made no move to pick up the other who looked worse for wear unless otherwise asked of.

[seriswyn]

“No, perhaps not. But the anatomy does make a difference,” she said quietly. There was plenty she could do to ease the suffering of a creature, man or beast, too far gone for saving. Seriswyn wouldn’t, however, put her coin on her ability to save a critically injured human as quickly as she would a creature. “Perhaps it would be more accurate to say my skill set is better suited for the organization and facilitation of espionage than the act itself?” She offered Lothar a slight smile as she proposed the idea. 

She nodded quietly in agreement to his later comment. “While the fall of the kingdom wrought many tragedies, it also allowed for a cycle of new things to spring forth, too.” This was not true for Seris, who had hidden herself away, but she had always known there was opportunity and much to gain outside the hovel she sequestered herself too if she only reached out to grasp it. Lothar had, from his account, and it made her glad for him. “Tenuous ones for a short time, but yes. I was born to a noble house of Avalon, but met a woman who I followed back to Iskaldrik. There was also a child we took in.” Lothar, she was certain, could fill in the rest. Or at least the end. 

“I hope it does,” she said softly, pressing her fingers to the carving as if the touch might imbue it with her intention or bolster it’s warding power.

[lotharx]

Lothar hummed in some sense of recognition to her explanation, though it sounded more like a perturbed grunt. Still, the barbarian would not elaborate beyond this mere gesture, nodding only after a brief pause. Seriswyn spoke of her time in Iskaldrik next, nothing that painted a picture that could end in anything but tragedy. "I had resided in Iskaldrik much of my very long and winded mortal life," he teased this considering the true longevity of the elvhen in comparison to mortals, "They always believed they were safe once they condemned magic, but true monsters do not have to live among us to destroy us." The vuldak who had slaughtered his own had merely been passing through when his families blood had stained the cottage he'd grown up in. Lothar wasn't sure what he was trying to say, the barbarian never had much depth, but it felt something of any apology for her losses.

There was some triumphant sense in his posture as the elvhen's fingers slid over the freshly etched rune, Lothar nodding once in this affirming sense. He was confident they would prevail even if blood was spilt.