View unanswered posts | View active topics * FAQ    * Search
* Login 




Forum locked This topic is locked, you cannot edit posts or make further replies.  [ 1 post ] 
Aiseth
 
PostPosted: Wed, Sep 30 2015, 18:23 PM 

User avatar

Player

Joined: 21 Dec 2011

What Woke The Dead?


There was a time when the dead did not walk in the night, when they did not tear themselves from the soil to hunt the living, but it is not a time any of us can remember. Our forefathers told of the threat, as did theirs in turn. We had, and have, many a hero of great valour and those of ill deed, none of which we tell tonight. Save one.

Sverre Lenne

He was the first great hero of our time. The father of our traditions and saviour. He is the unspoken champion who holds our darkest shame. He was the one all would forget and bury and the cause of our strife.


Image



The fourth year since the founding of Howness was upon us, the winter was coming and we were settling in for the cold ready to weather it out. But this winter was like no other we had experienced. The cold winds of Brogdenstein paled in comparison and even the first winter was as if resting by a roaring fire. Families huddled together for warmth as the wind howled through their wooden abodes and snatched the life of the fires out – leaving the coals frozen solid and the hearth of no use.

We made attempts to appease the spirits and gods of the land. Animals were slaughtered and given to the land, a tithe of coin and jewels were scattered into the sea in an attempt to calm whatever we may have angered. All to no avail. Many talked of abandoning our town, of retreating away. But Sverre refused to accept this. In the midst of the hall he stood up, axe in hand and bellowed his claim that he would find the source of this frozen hell and right it by blood or deed. Many young men and women clamoured to meet and equal his claim, none wishing to be shown cowering in the face of such bravery and so it was that six set forth into the wilderness.
What truly happened, we will never know. None for Sverre returned from what hell they encountered, but drenched in blood and with a haunted look in his eye. The eye of a man who had seen his death and had no more. A look that sent the children reeling in terror and the hounds barking. What we know is the little he told the elder.

“Three had already been lost before we found her. A maiden of snow and beauty. Of malice and desire. We found her sitting on a throne of ice and skulls, surrounded by beings not from this world. A song that chilled our bones rang through the hall we found ourselves in. We demanded to know why they were making us suffer. We had done no ill to them, and wished to live in peace in this land.We were met with naught but a glare that I never wish to witness again. I could feel my bones stiffening as if the ice itself was creeping up to take hold. The maiden claimed this was her land and one that the Mistress of Frost held command over. Those that wished to live in peace would pay the due respect owed. Knowing the might of the Frost Maiden, I made a bargain. It was a small price for our survival, and I would not allow my kin to suffer for any pride I had. We would carve our own place in this land and thrive. Servitude, in turn for the safety of our kin. I gave it freely, and would do so twice over. Even with the price asked for it. Their blood lies on my hands, and shall taint me until I go to the grave, but our town lies safe. Damned I am, but a better life than damning us all to live in servitude."

A confession of damning consequences, the Elder was horrified. Their hero had slain their own, their blood still staining his fur as he came back with that look in his eye. Haggard and torn, Sverre left into the night no longer the man he once was.

Word was soon to spread and uproar rippled through the village. Kin had been slain and anger and vengeance roared in the throats of child and adult. Blood demanded blood, and so the Elder decreed the price must be paid. Few knew the truth of what occurred, but word spread. The Elder denied it was ever him, a promise made to keep the confession until his grave, but from him alone it must have originated.

To the gallows he was taken, dragged and beaten. Torches risen into the air and rocks thrown, bitterness and disgust was all that was on their tongue.
Silence, as the rope was placed over his neck. His last words cast in their faces, with the spit of disgust.

“Damn you, you wretched fools. You know not was asked, what had to be done. Let your folly curse you for the ages. You may take my life, but I shall have my vengeance on you all. What you do to me, I do to you all”

And so the rope snapped, silence save for the twitching and dying gasps of a fallen hero sating the angry mob.

His body was taken and placed ready to allow his spirit to pass on. Hidden and shrouded for a day, to let it find its peace and not haunt the land. Come the morn, no trace could be found. No sign of his departure, his defilement or any clue as to what occurred. His body had simply vanished into the night.

Strange tales began to crop up, sightings of something from the corner of the eye. Lurking in the trees in the dead of night or staring from a reflection at sea. A face marred and torn, flesh wilting and a look so cold and void of life. The look seen only once before, in the eyes of Sverre Lenne. In the dark, when a man or woman of tale was lost, he would show. A glimpse, a flash... and he would be gone. When those lost beyond the confines of the town went missing, he would show and they would rise. The fallen bearing some grim resemblance to Sverre himself.

The dead must be burnt, it is the only way to cease the rising. Nothing else stops the anger of Sverre Lenne.



The Ones Who Know

By the lessons taught to us from the wisdom of the great serpent that oars the world with its scales along Midgard's ring, Man and Woman were given their hands to make do with them and to grasp the Swords of Helm and the Lash of Loviatar and the froth of Auril's mountains to shape and to shape again, into whatever form the world energy has been able to build. Be it to change the stone or branch or bone into new shape. Be it to their walls, or to their health and throat, all matter is theirs to fondle. Thus we need not fear even the Great Lights from which horizon the great island of Forrstakkr, for it too, shares with us a spring from which we have drank in knowledge past. They who have used Magic, have brought great relief to those ailed with dread or illness. The blade was given fire, and the poison was cleaned from the lungs of great warriors so that they too could row forth toward Helm's succor. Demons were punished and tossed back into the hells from which they leap, and darkness too could be shunned in the midst of night to guide riders and trappers back to the warmth of their homes. These were the times when magic had been good.
Image
From even the earliest accounts of the instrumentation of working with natural salts and nectar, alchemy has preserved the kindness of the first years of the land when village was not quite village. It is the passing down of their gift of knowledge that has given the alchemist the wisdom to further protect and share these powers with our heroes and to assist them in even the most daunting of tests of skill; no zephyr then can pause his might if he is wise to open his heart to these gifts. No chill can frighten his bones from climbing the great ash tree, Firth. His strength may be greater than five bears, his heart may be smarter than ten wolves, but his mind may not be with him. The warrior may have been made from the blood of the gods, but the mystic who fights with their knowledge was made from the sole of gods' feet. For this is the skin which touches the earth, and that is why heroes call them, The Ones Who Know.

_________________
Image
MuseReader: Aiseth Nosdivan- Master EnchantressImage


 
      
Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Forum locked This topic is locked, you cannot edit posts or make further replies.  [ 1 post ] 


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 3 guests


You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum

Jump to:  
cron
Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group