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 Post subject: Kvard-Ulf's Journal
PostPosted: Thu Nov 08, 2007 1:30 pm 
Adroit Pirate
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A dream came to me last night. A powerful omen, certainly, but I have not the craft to understand it. In it, an army of faceless shadows pursued my father -- my father in his younger days, when he wandered the southern lands. Suddenly, in Father's place, I was the one fleeing from the shadows! Such is the way of dreams. I woke with a start, but sweet Gunnhildr's tender attention soon drove it from my mind.

I am not ashamed to admit that Father was fearful of the vision when I told him of it. Though he is a wise and powerful servant of the Brawler, he suggested I consult the Seer. The old woman cast the bones and muttered many prayers to Lydia, the Mother of Truth. So long was she in her trance, and so thin my patience, that I nearly left her hut in disgust. Fortunately, as I gathered myself to go, her head snapped forward, and her clouded eyes fixed their blind gaze upon me with an unnatural vigor.

"Tested!" she whispered, and her voice was like a chill mountain wind upon my flesh. "You are to be tested, Kvard-Ulf, son of Haakon Firstborn. Your father's past has returned, but you are the one who must face it. Prepare yourself, for weal and woe!"

Then Old Freith fell back onto her furs, senseless, and I departed deep in thought.



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‎"In this economy, it's not easy to feed a growing family. So we eat Haunkkah gelt for dinner and look at a picture of broccoli." --Paul F. Tompkins
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PostPosted: Thu Nov 08, 2007 1:31 pm 
Adroit Pirate
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Joined: Mon Mar 01, 2004 12:00 pm
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Location: 612 Wharf Avenue
Already the Seer's words of yesterday are proving true. As a winter wolf following the spreading ice, the village today received a visitor from distant a distant part of the Flanaess who bore a missive for me, Kvard-Ulf Wartooth, from that nation's ruler -- surely some bloated, silk-clad fop. Written as it was in the gibberish of the southern lands, I could not make it out, and so had the messenger read it aloud. Just as the Seer had foretold, it requested that I, as the son of Haakon Firstborn, travel to Sterich. The matter, it seems, is related to one of Father's greatest adventures, that of the war waged against the giants.

Many are the tales I have heard of that mighty struggle, and long have I desired a similar challenge with which to test my mettle and spread the name of Kvard-Ulf Wartooth across Oerik. My life has been spent winning glory and fame for myself and my clan among the northern lands -- the Hold of Stonefist curses my name even as the Wolf Nomads praise it -- but among my own people I still live in Father's shadow. With this quest, I may cast a shadow of my own.

Father's face was a mix of pride and envy when I told him the news. To mark the occasion, he gave me my inheritance early: the Sword of Rage, looted long ago from Vlekstaad itself. In Father's hands, it felled the Jarl of the Frost Giants. Let the enemies of Sterich quake and cower at its return.

We set out on the morrow. When I return to Gunnhildr, it will be as a hero.



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Mike Olson
‎"In this economy, it's not easy to feed a growing family. So we eat Haunkkah gelt for dinner and look at a picture of broccoli." --Paul F. Tompkins
Spirit of the Blank: A blog.
Roll Some Dice: Another blog.
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