Never comfortable around attractive women, your clumsy advances at intimacy are not lost on the girl.  When it occurs to her you are seeking more from her body than just warmth, she stiffens and pulls away.  ”Ei.” She says softly, shaking her dark-haired head.  ”Minulla on päänsärkyä.”  Though you are a mighty, lustful warrior, you would never force an unwilling girl, even if its for her own good.

And so, you roll over and try to get some sleep, listening to the wind keening outside, the soft pop and sputter of the fire, the distant gurgling of water coming from deep below the glacier and its muted groans and creaks...

After the physical trials of the day, the cold, and now a full belly, you soon find yourself dozing off…

OOC:  Roll 3d6 labeled “Hearing”
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:11, Fri 30 July 2021.

  Her words, but more to the point, her negative movement of her head, was as a dash of cold water upon his desire. Such denial was  not unknown to him, as he had no skills in this area. But it ate  at him all the same. He would not force his attention upon a woman, not willing, but a small piece of his pride, died that night, not because the woman had refused him, but many such woman had done so. He rolled over. And turned his back on her.” What did ye expect, a champion in battle, drinking, and singing the ballads of yore. But with woman……. Bahh!.” He attempted sleep.

Moonlight streaming in from above shines onto your closed eyes, waking you.  Yawning and stretching, it takes a moment for you to recall your circumstances.  Ymir, but you’ve slept deep and well!

However, something is wrong…

The girl is gone -- but her few belongings remain.  With a deep growl, you heave to your feet and hastily pull on your boots and take up your weapons.  You clamber over the rigored horse carcass and climb out of the cave...

Outside on the snow, the wind has died. A gibbous moon hangs low above the western peaks, casting a wan glow of pale gold across the snow fields that will soon be lit by the morning sun. Your keen eyes rake the snow…

OOC: Make roll 3d6 labeled Tracking..

 He woke and instantly became alert to his surrounds. The woman was gone, and Heimdul grew annoyed. He girded himself, then crawled out of the cave and looked around. " Women.. more trouble then they are worth. Give me a good axe, anyday. They are reliable, and never desert your side." There he went, having a conversation with those unseen spirits or gods again.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:26, Fri 30 July 2021.

Searching the snow around the cave entrance for signs of the girl, you spot something that turns you rigid.

Something recently emerged from a gap in the ice a few strides from the overhang. It was huge, long, soft and sinuous, and moved without feet. Its writhing track is clearly visible in the curving path its belly crushed in the soft whiteness, like some monstrous worm of the snows.

Your wilderness-sharpened eyes easily read the path. It leads, curving around hillocks of snow and outjutting ledges of rock, up the hillside away from the glacier — up, toward the windswept peaks.

Warily, you follow the long, undulating tracks until you come upon the girl -- or what’s left of her…

Her head is gone, and with it most of the flesh of her upper body, so that the white bones gleam like ivory in the dim light. The protruding bones have been cleaned, as if the flesh has been sucked from them or rasped off by some many toothed tongue.

OOC: Make a 3d6 roll labeled IQ roll.

  Heimdul followed the tracks until then lead to the woman, or what was once a woman. He had seen corpses before, of both sexes. Her death did bring a certain regret to the Northman. The tracks he saw, declared a beastie of some sort. His axe was in his hand at once, as he scanned the surrounding area.

You scan the surrounding area, finding nothing but the serpentine tracks undulating around a bend and out of sight.  Then you turn back to examine the corpse more closely. With a grunt of surprise, you find that it is frozen solid, and sheathed in hard ice. Though certainly last night was cold, you find it hard to believe Ilga’s body could freeze so solidly in such a short time…

You gaze down at the girl’s ice-encrusted, horribly mangled body, the memory of her beautiful face still quite fresh in your mind.

You have your own rough code of honor. You like to keep your word, and to fulfill obligations undertaken willingly. While you know that you're no stainless, chivalrous hero, you treat women with a curt sort of kindness, without the flowery refinements of so-called civilized men. You cannot help but feel shame that Ilga was slain while under your protection.

OOC: Do you decide to seek revenge on the beast or not?
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:11, Fri 30 July 2021.

 The Warrior decided that whatever had slain the woman, needed to be slain. The woman had been with him, so honor demanded retribution. Heimdul decided to follow the trail of the beast, and cut off it's head.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Sat 31 July 2021.

You grind your powerful teeth and bite your lips in rage, determined to wipe out this stain on your code of honor, even if it costs you your life.  You grimly resolve to track the best to its lair and slay it.

OOC: Do you decide to hunt the creature now while its trail is still fresh (if so roll 3d6 labeled Tracking) or do you return to your cave to plan (if so roll 3d6 labeled IQ).

Following the great creature’s winding path through the snow proves to be quite easy.  The trail runs parallel to the glacier itself, rising and falling with the contour of the rugged terrain, and passing through stands of trees and around rocky prominences.  For perhaps a mile or two you follow the path, picking up your pace because the winds have risen and threaten to render the trail obscured by drifting snow.  Now the sun begins to rise over the jagged peaks, its light sparkling off the frosty landscape…

Presently you find yourself standing before the mouth of an ice cave which opens into the flank of a small glacier, a tributary to the Snow Devil pass. From your elevation, you can look back down the slope to where this minor glacier curves to join the main one, like the affluent of a river.

You buckle the strap to your horned helm and draw your heavy Asgard axe and stride warily through the opening.  The light of the dawn sun glances and flashes from the translucent ice walls on either side, breaking up into rainbow patterns and polychromatic gleams. It's as if you are walking by some magical means through the solid substance of a colossal gem.

The passage descends sharply, curving in random directions as you penetrate the ice caves deeper and deeper… The sound of melting ice gurgles far below...

And then you freeze when a soft sound fills the passage, filling the air like the rush of the wind, though you feel no breeze. The noise grows, and the ice starts to gently tremble.

Something is coming!

You draw back, eyes peering down the tunnel as you await the arrival of whatever is the source of the strange sound…

And now, before you in the gloom open two cold green eyes, which stare into the roots of your soul. The luminous orbs cast a gelid, submarine light.

By their faint, fungoid phosphoresence, you see a great wyrm. Coil on undulating coil, its immense, boneless length is covered with a silken nap of thick white fur. Its mouth is merely a jawless, circular opening. Above the mouth, two eyes gleam out of a smooth, rounded eel-like head.

OOC: This enormous creature is about 30 feet long and weighs closed to 800 pounds.  You are currently 12 yards away from the creature and it is advancing toward up the tunnel at speed 6.  If you opt to attack the creature roll 3d6 labeled “attack Ice Wyrm”.  Aside from your Asgard axe in your right hand, if you so choose, you may have EITHER your smallshield on your left arm OR your lance/spear in your left hand, or neither if you want your left hand empty. Heimdul’s speed is faster than the wyrm, so you may act first. Also, let me know how you want to DEFEND against the creature’s attack if it scores a potential hit -- DODGE, Parry (with your Axe) or BLOCK if you have a shield on your left arm.


This message was last edited by the GM at 18:36, Mon 02 Aug 2021.

  The trail of the beast was easy to follow. It was like tracking a herd of elk, with all  the obvious signs of passage. Heimdul had is axe and spear in hand, as he  followed the trail sign, until it led to a cave of ice.

 The Northman girded his mental loins, then entered the lair, of whatever this beast was, as he was determined to have his revenge for the slain woman.

 He then heard a sound, of something that approached his way. When the warrior beheld the thing, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was no coward, and braver than most, but even the likes of Heimdul were taken aback, by the size of the thing. “ What are you, one of Ice Giant’s pets? No matter. You owe me a debt, and I shall collect.”

 Heimdul waited a few moments, to make sure he had the things attention. He then cocked back his spear, and cast it toward one of its eyes, then turned to run.

With a roar, you fling your spear with all your strength, aiming for one of the creature’s green luminescent eyes!  But in your haste, your throw is off by a foot and the spear hisses past the thing’s head, striking the icy back wall of the passage in a shower of frozen chips…

Now the ice wyrm raises its blunt head. Its circular mouth opens, revealing a ring of small, inward-pointed teeth. You hear a faint piping sound, a thin, ululating thread of music that winds around your mind. Its weird, trilling, mind-binding song rises about you, pouring over you in lulling, overpowering, narcotic waves.

Inexplicably, your eyelids grow heavy...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1u6fQLv8eFM

OOC: roll 3d6 labeled Will to resist this weird hypnotic magic. If you roll a 13 or less, take another action. If you fail you’re likely doomed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:05, Tue 03 Aug 2021.

 The spear missed the mark, and then a strange sound came from the beast. Heimdul found himself growing weary, and actually felt himself drifting off to sleep. But he suddenly shook his head to clear his thoughts, and turned to flee back towards the entrance.

 Heimdul was no coward, but to fight this beast head to head, was utter folly. He needed to gain an edge. Perhaps he might ambush the beast, as it emerged from the cave on the flank, or perhaps he might gain purchase above .

Even as the missed spear cracks against the ice wall behind the great wyrm, you wheel about and sprint up the passage as fast as your long legs will carry you…

Slamming your fists against your ears to prevent the wyrm's strange song from penetrating your thoughts, you flee through the warren of the ice caverns. The great beast, perhaps sluggish from its recent feast, or confused at having been challenged in the frozen depths of its nest by a puny manthing, does not follow…

Presently, your flight takes you to the mouth of the ice tunnel to breathe the fresh crisp air and feel the morning sun’s warmth on your face...

OOC: You have fled the ice tunnel and the wyrm does not seem to have followed you. What do you do now?


This message was last edited by the GM at 11:59, Wed 04 Aug 2021.

 The creature declined Heimdul's invitation  to chase after him.he pondered for a few moments, the decided upon a course of action

 The northman, returned to the small cave,  he had sheltered in. He took his axe, and hacked the  horse carcass in half. He then attempted to drag/ carry the  section of dead meat to the worm cave.

 Upon arrival, Heimdul positioned the horse meat a distance from the cave entrance, so the beast would have to expose itself, to claim the prize. He would see if there might be a perch above the cave.

Once free of the cave, you hike the mile or so back to the snow cave where you spent the night.  There you hack off a large haunch of horsemeat, heave it over your shoulder and then set off back to the lair of the ice wyrm.

You cut off a few smaller sections and toss them into the mouth of the cave, hoping their scent will entice the Wyrm.  And then you drag the largest, bloody section along the snow leading out of the cave another twenty yards out on the tree studded icy slope.  You lay the meat prominently on display and then circle back and carefully scramble up the side of the cave and find a perch above the opening among some small spruce trees.

By now the sun has risen well above the mountainous horizon.  Though it is still cold, your efforts have drenched you in sweat and your mighty thews are weary.  So you rest and wait patiently on your roost, hoping the creature will show itself…

Minutes turn to an hour and you begin to doubt your plan will work…

But then you perk up when you spy movement…  You drop low, gripping your axe, muscles tensed for the charge…

When you spy what it is, you whisper a silent swear...

From around the bend, waddles a wolverine, drawn to the scent of blood and meat.  It resembles a cross between a weasel and a bear, measuring perhaps four feet long and eighteen inches tall at the shoulder.  Though it is relatively small and weighs only about forty pounds, you know of these animals to be extremely aggressive and capable of taking down prey much larger than itself.  Warily the creature approaches the horse haunch and sniffs at it.  And then it sets in, tearing at the meat hungrily…

OOC: To drag a 400 pound half of a horse 1.5 miles would have been a major exhausting undertaking, so I opted to just have you chop off a back buttock and leg for easier portage. It is about 10:30 in the morning. You’ve been sitting up over the cave mouth for for about an hour and you recovered all your lost fatigue points. The meat and wolverine are about twenty yards away. Reminder that your spear was abandoned in the cave and your throwing axe was lost during the fight with the beastmen. If you intend to sneak up on the wolverine, roll 3d6 labeled stealth.


This message was last edited by the GM at 04:51, Fri 06 Aug 2021.

 Heimdul observed the appearance of the Wolverine. It took interest in the meat, and the Northman thought about slaying it. But a thought stayed his hand. Perhaps the beast in the cave, would react to a new scent, and movement. He waited.

You wait, hunkered down in the trees that grow over the opening to the ice cave and watch the wolverine feed.  Perhaps its musky odor will add to the scent of the carcass, helping lure the Wyrm from its den, you wonder.

An hour ticks by.  The sun shines.  The winds die.  You hear the distant gurgles of a thousand tiny rivulets trickling from the melting ice.  The wolverine continues to gorge.

And then, directly below you, you hear that weird, ululating, piping music emanating from the mouth of the cave!  The wolverine jerks up its head, its fur bristling.  A low growl issues from its shaggy chest…  Over the piping music, you hear the slither of the great beast as it draws near the opening...

OOC: You cannot quite see the Wyrm because its just inside the mouth of the cave which is below you.  Roll 3d6 against Willpower.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:20, Sun 08 Aug 2021.

  The large Northman, perched on his small ledge above the cave mouth. The wait had been longer than he liked, but years of hunting, had given Heimdal patience. The wolverine continued its feast, at the expense of his horse, below, Heimdal wanted to slay the creature, for that alone, but prudence won out, and he held his hand.

  Suddenly, his patience might not have been in vain, for the sounds of movement from the cave below was heard. The warrior slowly drew his long-bladed hunting knife with his hand, while he took a tighter grip on his axe, with his right.

You stifle a mighty yawn as the Wyrm's weird song tickles at the recesses of your brain.

Below, you see the Wolverine jerk its head up at the sound and then flee off through the snow as fast as its short legs will carry it.

Now, you watch as the great, furry length of the Ice Wyrm disgorges itself from the cave.  It unwinds its long, serpentine body as it undulates out into the open, slithering forth through the snow as though to give chase...
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:42, Thu 12 Aug 2021.

 ....................................Leap into folly.............................



  At the signs, that the worm was coming out, Heimdul girded his loins, and made ready to do, the greatest folly of his life. He tightened the grip on his axe and long fighting knife and said a prayer to any god that might happen to be listening.

 Once the head of the worm appeared from the cave mouth, Heimdul leapt from his small ledge and attempted to land on the creature’s back just behind those things, that passed for eyes. If successful, the Northman would attempt to bury his axe in the spot between those eyes. If he could, he would then slam his dagger, into the worm’s hide, to use as a purchase.

You hold your breath as the giant wyrm slithers from its cave out into the open, directly below you.  Its weird piping music having failed to tranquilize the fleeing wolverine, the wyrm now appears intent on pursuing the animal and its two great, luminescent eyes are focused on it…

This is when you make your move.

Rising from your hiding place, knife in one hand, axe in the other, you leap off the snow-covered ledge and drop straight down, on top of the monster!

Your heavy bulk crashes down upon the wyrm, driving its head straight into the snow…  And then, instantly, with every ounce of your strength, you ram the knife to the hilt in the creature’s left eye!

The instant your blade strikes home, you feel an overwhelming frigidity seize your knife hand and shoot up your arm!  Cold ocular fluid squirts out of the sundered and now deflating eyeball and the greenish glow in that eye snuffs out!  Suddenly, the wyrm lets out an ear-splitting shriek that reverberates across the mountain tops!  It snaps its head up, hoisting you violently into the air and begins twisting and whipping itself in a frenzy!  Clods of snow and powder fly everywhere!

Straddling the shaggy thing with both thighs, like a rider atop a bucking bronco, you latch on with all your might!

OOC: Okay! Your excellent jump was a critical success and earned you a Hero Point.  Roll against Health You have grievously wounded the wyrm with your knife by penetrating and blinding one eye and driving the blade deep into whatever bundle of nerves that passes for its primitive brain.  You have thus far managed to hang on to the thing, but its rolling and twisting and flailing all over the place.  Roll 3d6 labeled Dexterity and roll 3d6 labeled Strength and roll 3d6 labeled Axe attack).

  The time of folly or courage had arrived. As the creature emerged from the cave, Heimdul removed himself from Terra Firma, and entered the realm of the air spirits. Such caressed his person, upon the descent . His scarlet hair, contrasted against the brown of his bear skin, as both fluttered in the wind.

  Upon impact, the  Northman, found himself astride the furry Worm. He raised his hunting knife and plunged it into one of the  thing’s eyes. With a cry of “ HARRO!” upon his lips. The creature cried out in a sound, that the Warrior deduced was anguish, from the thrust cold iron. It twisted, and bucked, and twisted. Heimdul held on for dear life, as he aimed his axe, for a blow against the other eye of the beast.

 As his axe fell, he was heard to shout to the heavens. “ I am Heimdul, son of Ragnar. I collect a debt of honor, owned!”

Though the great wyrm whips and thrashes wildly, you manage to hang on, with your legs and ankles locked around the beast’s shaggy body…

Once it flips completely over, smashing you into the ground hard as it tries desperately to dislodge you, shrieking with ear-shattering intensity.  Clouds of powder obscure your vision!

Somehow you hang on, your knife still lodged in the thing’s left eye socket…

Now you draw back your battle axe with your other hand and, with a roar of effort, you hack the keen Asgard steel completely through the side of the wyrm’s head, rupturing its right eye and crunching the fur-lined endoskeleton!  Cold green goo spurts out everywhere, drenching your face and beard…

Down crashes the ice wyrm, its tail end whipping about crazily in its final death throes…  You are battered and bruised as your body is pummeled into the snowy ground, but you refuse to let go until, all at once, with one last, spasmodic ripple down the length of its long, sinuous body, the creature goes utterly limp and collapses, its piercing wail fading off to silence….

Sobbing for breath, you drag yourself out from under the dead wyrm and roll away.  Lying flat on your back, you stare up into the clear blue heavens, feeling the sun on your face.

You have defeated the ice wyrm!

OOC: Geez, anticlimactic battle against the big bad but you deserved it, given your excellent tactics and rolls. You are suffering superficial bumps, bruises and abrasions, but no real hit point loss. Congratulations!
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:03, Tue 17 Aug 2021.

  With a shudder and groan of what must have been pain, the great worm, crashed upon the ground, then lay still. Heimdul was numb and sore, from crown to toes, from the struggle to have remained on the creatures back. The sudden silence, where before there had been much noise, was a sort of sound unto itself.

 The Northman slowly slid off the beast, with great care, after he had buried his axe into the beast’s  eyes twice more, to make sure, it was in truth, slain. His booted feet touched the snow and ice of the north, and Heimdul Raised his axe towards the heavens in a salute to the gods. “HARRO!” He cried in triumph, his shout was carried upon the chilled winds, perhaps even to the throes of the gods.

 After time, taken, to dislodge one of the worms’ giant teeth, as a trophy, Heimdal, started the long trek down the pass, toward his next adventure.

The End
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:16, Mon 23 Aug 2021.