A time of ill omens
Two generations had passed since Good King Sturmvolk the Swift had broken the Jotunn at the battle of Brushivagyr.
The war had raged for five full years, many had died on both sides, the halls of Valhalla surely much have filled two full tables with valiant warriors who would someday fight against the Jotunn again at Ragnarok.
Hragvoll the Fierce had fallen at the hands of the king himself, and when the largest, most powerful war chieftain of all the Jotunn had collapsed, brains and blood turning the river forever red, the will of the Jotunn's to contest ownership of Jotenheimr was broken.
Surely the gods were pleased, for an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity fell upon the warriors and their families. Winters were mind, crops were bountiful, and war raids seemed always successful.
Two score years and four of mind winters.
But now that time seemed to be at an end.
Storms raged. Ships that attempted to leave crashed upon jagged rocks, ships that were expected failed to arrive. The most recent winter had been harsh. To the north, some fields were said to have remnants of snow into late Skerpla (Some time in May). Many farms reported numerous underweight calves and weak unsteady foals.
Runes were cast, sheep intestines were examined, but the reading were cloudy and vague. Fear gripped the common folk of the fourteen cities of man.
As the short summer receded, one ship made landfall at Djúprborg, on the east coast of Jotenheimr. The captain and crew were locals who spoke of terrible storms, monstrous creatures and an unending darkness. The ship also carried four heroes from afar.
Amund Gunvar, tall and hale, with a mighty good humor and a mighty weapon bestowed upon him by Hel* herself. He is always seen with his faithful companion Geri, a dog of great size, and considerable intellect.
Klaengr Aegirson, scion of the storm god who he has taken as his name sake. Rumor has it that it was his prayers that brought them thru the storms that now surround the island.
Ludvig Frydenlund, Klaengr's loyal bondsmen and protector, a might warrior in his own stead.
and Vermundr, the silent man, haunted by his past but dedicated to dying at the hands of the first Jotunn he meets and does not slay.
This foursome had spoken with the masters of the city, in the great long hall of Djúprborg, and were soon given supplies and map to aid them in seeking out their blood-sworn foes the Jotunn, with their initial destination to be Vimursdat, high in the mountains a fortnight north and west. No messengers had been heard from this quarter in several weeks, and rumors fly that the city has been destroyed. The city fathers would know the truth.
Many a brave man volunteered to go along, but the War Chiefs of the city were loath weaken the cities own defenses. Only two had gone against their wishes and joined the hardy band of heroes. (Heroes many felt were doomed to begin with...)
Dragnor Donegal, the Whistling Bard, a traveler who many feel is an ill omen in himself, though the Raven that rides his should is assumed to be an eye for Odin himself, and Hrunnwulf Jorgaldsen, a man renowned for his strength and endurance. Alone of the party, he leaves behind a family, a wife and seven children.
Once the band has gathered at the gate, their next (and perhaps final) adventure will begin. The first glow of the sun has come over the horizon. A small band of holy folk, men and women, sip hot beverages in a circle, while Aki'Alvarr, the Hetman of Djúprborg stood by the gate with his three bondsmen and his favorite wife, all waiting to give their final advice and blessings to the intrepid band...
*Hel is the goddess of death, and as such generally shunned, however she is still of Asgard, and worshiped by the people. The daughter of Loki, grandchild of Odin, she is a being of great power, but expected to fight at the side of the gods at Ragnarok.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:55, Sun 27 Mar 2016.