Introduction

The year is 813. The great emperor of West Frankia, Charles the Great, lies dead in Aachen Cathedral, his lands divided between his sons. In an uncertain time of civil war and a scramble for imperial power, the lands lie open to attack. Famine and plague are rife. Earls and kings fight each other for control whilst the ordinary people bear the brunt of almost constant warfare. Europe runs red with blood.
From the windswept lands of the north, the bows of dragon-headed longships scythe through the waters of the North Sea, falling upon all unsuspecting lands before them. Since the infamous raid on Lindisfarne in A.D. 793 these 'northmen' have burned their way through villages and towns across the known world. Stories of brutal murders and terrifying beasts spread round lands as yet untouched, the names of the northmen's dark gods spoken with fear by those desperate for their God to save them.
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This year came dreadful fore-warnings over the land of the Northumbrians, terrifying the people most woefully: these were immense sheets of light rushing through the air, and whirlwinds, and fiery dragons flying across the firmament. These tremendous tokens were soon followed by a great famine: and not long after, on the sixth day before the ides of January in the same year, the harrowing inroads of heathen men made lamentable havoc in the church of God in Holy-island, by rapine and slaughter.
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

Who are you stranger? Are you a feared viking warrior from the shores of Svithjod? Or are you a noble of the kingdom of Northymbre? Whoever you are, your place in this world is far from stable. Men rise and fall like winter wheat. Will you rise to everlasting glory in the eyes of the gods? Will you safeguard the worshipers of Christ? Or will you seek to simply survive? The choices are yours.
As always, the ways of the pagan gods are fickle, and they relish interfering in the lives of men. The creatures of the gods lurk in the shadows, and are drawn to the suffering of warriors and farmers alike. Due to this, a number of mythical norse creatures will be allowed into this story, e.g. valkyries, ice giants, or dwarves. However, in an attempt to keep things to Midgard, only a couple will be permitted.
Our setting will mainly be the Saxon kingdoms of England and the Norse lands in Scandinavia. However, raiding took the vikings to places as far flung as North America in the west and Iran in the East, so other places may be included.
This story will begin in two places, Uppsala and Winchester, seats of power for both the Northmen and the Anglo-Saxons. Whatever your path may be, God, or gods, be with you.

- 42 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
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Four of his Huscarls sat on small logs around a fire outside the Temple, not that he needed them. The fierce and loyal warriors was merely a show of power. He stretched his arms under the thick cloak and looked out over the surrounding lands. It was dusk, and the light was quickly dwindling. The woods around Uppsala and the waters of Mälaren was illuminated by the gloomy orange light.
Although many was still moving among the trees back and forth from the Temple, many had headed down to the village. As was evident by the sound of fighting that crowding has an ability to cause. Turning his gaze to the left, he spotted an old and grizzled warrior sitting by himself, with a black cloak swept around him. Walking over and leaning himself against the wall next to the old man, Erak said "One is never alone, least of all here. The Gods are with us, always and forever."
Slowly turning his head and looking down on the old man, he asked "Tell me, what do you pray for?"
The setting changes from Dark Age Europe to Uppsala
Shaking the snow off his shoulders, Brynjar fingered the blade of his axe, the carefully oiled and honed weapon glinting in the firelight he sat on the edge of. "I have little need of prayer these days Erak. Prayers are usually for those who need something or anger the gods. For those who speak to them regularly it is of little consequence." He knew the man. He'd known since he set foot off his longship and began the ascent. Brynjar had watched him enter the temple, and the one armed warrior close behind. The creature that followed the woman was still here, but a whisper from the raven that perched in the tree above him told him it was none of his concern.
Brynjar sighed. "Cold winters fast approach and leave slowly. This land is in the grip of giants." The sounds of fighting carried up to his ears and made him scowl. More important things were necessary now. Drunken brawls were wastes of everything that should be held dear.
Turning back to Brynjar he said "The giants grip it, then relents and let it go. Only to try again. The day they succeed will be the day when we lose faith. Myself, I have other concerns." Taking a seat next to Brynjar on the wooden bench, Erak stared out into the darkness. "I trust that you have heard of how my brother Ragnar has become a Jarl in Northvegr? He was always restless, even as a lad. And I trust he will keep venturing west with renewed force, possibly he vies for the crown of Northvegr itself. Not only that, things are stirring in Scandinavia. Only a mere year ago, the late king Gudfred of Danmark was murdered. Horik Gudfredsson, his son, was forced to flee when King Harald Klak siezed Power. He is somewhere in Götaland as we speak, trying to rouse support."
Erak sighed and turned to Brynjar "I pray for that the sons of the North will not succumb to greed and spill eachother's blood. But right now, it looks like I will be sorely disappointed... And as for myself... With the great Charlemagne now gone, the West is in disarray. There has never been a better time to let the longships sail." He added the last part with a crooked smile.
"There is a son of Norvegr in the village. He arrived on a longship from Trondelag." Brynjar reached into a pouch hanging on his belt, clearing the snow from the hard ground with his other hand. Crouching down, the shield on his back slipping a little, he cast his hand over the space. Knuckle bones rolled on the hard ground, the etched runes on them flashing in the firelight from the brazier. Brynjar examined how they fell, then scooped them up and placed them back in the pouch. "Would that I had now what I had yesterday, find out what it was; mankind it mars, speech it hinders, yet speech it will inspire."
The setting changes from Uppsala to Dark Age Europe
Erak rose aswell, turning his gaze upon Brynjar and saying "I have need of capable warriors, join me on my journey to the West, you will not regret it."
That good natured atmosphere quickly died away for Einar as his mismatched eyes settled on a blade withdrawing from the Little Upstart's companion.
Einar was at a moment of disbelief, rarely would one draw a blade during a drunken brawl under another Jarl's roof. The audacity and disrespect were astounding. To his credit however, Einar quickly recovered and crossed the gap before the man could strike again. He grabbed the other man's wrist in his vice-like grip and was satisfied to feel the bones cracking beneath and causing him to drop the knife. With a twist, he raised the man's arm over his head and delivered a crushing stomp to his right knee, dropping him before slamming his fist into his jaw.
By this time he was hoping the Jarl would put an end to this so the loathsome underhanded man's crime could be punished properly.
Einar looked to the young man and his friend, saying, "Get him some aid boy, before he bleeds out!"
The setting changes from Dark Age Europe to Uppsala
"Hold still you git." Gunnar seethed through his teeth as he pulled the make-shift bandage tight. He checked to see if it was holding back the bleeding, then turned to his own scrapes and bruises. One of his fingers was bent an odd way. He flinched as he touched it. Not broken thank Odin. Taking a deep breath Gunnar gripped the finger and popped it back into its socket, waving his hand after. Then he looked to the warrior, the one who had earlier thrown him out and then defeated Hemming's attacker. The man wasn't much to look at but had obviously seen some combat.
Under Hemming's watchful gaze, Gunnar decided that he could put honour aside for the sake of good humour, and pulled a couple of drinking horns off a nearby table. He thrust one towards the warrior and smiled. "Name's Gunnar. My father is the Jarl of Trondelag over in Norvegr. Hemming and I came to pay our respects here before heading off to visit the Danes. What brings you here?"
The wind howled and small flakes of snow began to fall, hissing when they hit the fire. A blizzard was coming.
The setting changes from Uppsala to Dark Age Europe
She mulled it over after they had gone. "Why not go with them?" Her voice was an breathy echo coming from a mouth that did not move. "Or at least give a straight answer...What does a goldsmith's hammer have to do with joining a battle anyways?"
The setting changes from Dark Age Europe to Uppsala
After a long moment, he turned to the creature, silouhetted and huge against the firelight. His shadow dancing on the snow covered ground. Fixing the creature with an icy gaze, he paused before speaking. "The one you follow. If I have read the signs properly, she is of some significance." Touching his hand to his forearm, then to his forehead, Brynjar closed his eyes a moment, as if searching memory. The messages of the gods had been loud of late, and he struggled to understand them all.
The setting changes from Uppsala to Winchester
""Pascoe!" He called back, in his native Cornish. "How far do you recon we've come now then?" Pascoe was the only man who had decided to join him when he left his fathers lands, though the man was a bastard, and had no name himself he found him to be a good travelling companion, if a little slow.
"Considerin' we left Exeter ten days ago, no' tha' far I'd imagine." Kenver nodded and rolled his eyes before turning back to the path ahead, though he may have little idea of where they were, Kenver didn't need telling they hadn't come too far, even though he was only just beginning to grasp the sheer size of the Kingdom of Wessex, how could one man bend so many kings to his will to creat such a vast land?
He paused as he heard the sound of metal on metal, and strange screaming noises ahead. He picked up the pace, it seemed that some form of fight was in the works ahead. He picked his way through the trees- again he was surprised at just how many of the blasted things grew this far north. He wasn't really expecting to burst out of them the way he had, almost being knocked down by one of the fighting men, riding what he assumed were horses, though he had seen the trading Franks selling the odd horse here and there, he had never actually seen one being ridden into battle, let alone ridden one himself. He quickly backpedaled, colliding with Pascoe as he was coming up behind him.
"Woah! Watch where you are going, Pascoe!"
"Here! How was I 'possed to know that you would be jus' standin' there?"
"Never mind that, whats going on here?"
Looking into the center of the fight, it seemed to be two men on horseback, dressed in the battle-finery of kings that clashed together, it would seem one king had declared a battle for the lands of the other, pretty par for the course as far as Kenver was concerned. Both he and Pascoe would have been perfectly happy until he realised their talking their native language, as well his own rather well equipped form had drawn the attention of one of the horsemen, who presumably mistook them both for Danes and decided to charge the pair, sword raised.
"Oh for fucks sake." Kenver muttered before drawing his own blade and raising his oval shield high before letting loose a warcry. "Kernow et Fal! Fal et Kernow!"
Though he was a fair fighter, he had never fought a man on horseback before and he didn't expect the man to come at him at such speed, though he did manage to deflect the oncoming blade his own only managed to score a gash on the horsemans leg. Through some kind twist of fate, this was enough to cause the man to flinch and somehow hit his head on one of the low hanging branches, the crack was probably enough to have broken his skull open, or the painful fall the frozen ground has enough, but Pascoes spear made sure that the man wasn't going to get up again.
Looking back across the sprawl of chaos he could see one of the kings had unhorsed the other and was about to land the killing blow, luckily it seemed that nobody else had noticed them, which for most part worked well enough for him, after all he did have his sword drawn and bloody.
The setting changes from Winchester to Dark Age Europe
The setting changes from Dark Age Europe to Uppsala
As she made her way out of the temple she stopped to pay brief but sincere respects to the representations of Thor and Modi. She even blew a kiss at the statue of Freyja. If she somehow ended up in Fólkvangr rather than Valhalla, being loved by a goddess for eternity might not be so bad. Not so ideal as endless the feasts and battles of Valhalla though. All better options than an peaceful death in bed followed by the cold grip of Hel.
With hand and shoulder Vilhjalma pushed open the temple doors and let herself back out into the cold. The weather had taken a turn for the worse apparently. "Not a good sign."
Drawn to a couple of men that looked like warriors, Erak judged the men closely with his gaze as he walked up to them, dismissing his Huscarls. They looked like they've had a rough day, signs of a fight was still evident on them. Although Everything had apparently calmed down, seeing as they were drinking and talking. "Did you lose an arguement with a bear or something?" Erak commented with a crooked smile as he walked in amongst them.
The setting changes from Uppsala to Dark Age Europe
The crippled Berserker was ready to start down the temple's meager stairs when she stopped. She'd missed it at first, white fur blending in so well with the snow. She had no excuse for missing the dark stripes. Despite having no idea just what a tiger was she was still certain seeing such a creature was significant.
The creature stretched as if bowing and then moved backwards to rise onto its hind legs. Slowly it shrank, giant, clawed paws becoming frail looking hands. Powerful furred muscles became lithe, smooth skin. And the deadly muzzle became a smiling female face. She stood there for a moment, smiling as her white gown flapped gracefully in the wind. She closed her eyes and hummed enjoying the sensation of being in a human form. Then she opened her eyes, the same brilliant silver as the tiger's. "Hello, Vilhjama."
Even the blonde warrior knew that the supernatural was not something to mess with and a shapechanger knowing her name brought the trickster Loki immediately to mind. She took half a step back and changed her stance. "You have business with me, spirit?"
She nodded, seeming unpleased by Vilhjalma's change in stance. "I have had for a very long time. But now is when we finally talk, face to face."
"What could you possibly want from me, and why now?" She wasn't openly hostile but there was something to be said for being suspicious. Few would accuse Vilhjalma of having a smooth personality.
"The only thing I want is for you to fulfill your destiny and for me to be there when you do. And now? Times are changing, something big is coming. Now is the time for us to meet, there was no other way."
Hearing the spirit's purpose suddenly made her feel uneasy. Destiny. It was said that even the Gods could not escape or change their destiny, Ragnarok. What if her destiny was something she wanted no part in? She would have no hope of changing it. "Destiny you say...is mine so important?"
"I would not be here otherwise."
"Do you have a name?" She stood up straight once more, Dane's axe resting against her shoulder. No sense asking about this important destiny of hers. Oh it was tempting, but was it better knowing? Maybe one day she would regret not asking.
She nodded, smiling again. "I am called Kotah." She was happy to see her acceptance so readily. She had not known what to expect, so this was a pleasant surprise.
"Kotah, right." The woman sighed. "You already know my name. Introducing you to my traveling companion may be...tricky." Einar, still waiting for her down at the great hall. He was going to think she was mad.
"I can remain hidden, or in the form of a tiger, if you wish."
"That...is up to you, spirit. Kotah." She finally descended the stairs and passed by her newest companion, asking "Aren't you cold?" over her shoulder.
"Tigers do not mind the cold. But being like this...is somehow more freeing." She shrugs then turns back towards the old man. "It was nice talking to you."
The setting changes from Dark Age Europe to Uppsala
Her footsteps slowed as she approached the entrance of the great hall, glancing back for the presence of Kotah as she shook snow from her cloak. After a deep breath and a weary sigh she entered.
- 42 posts here • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
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View All » Add Character » 12 Characters to follow in this universe
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Yrenhild 'Yre' Asvardottir
Yre is a shieldmaiden of great strength and wits, some claiming she was blessed by the Gods
Kenver Daddow
Third born son of a petty king, heir to nothing and outcast to all
Konungr Erak Sigurdsson
The ambitious konungr of Svithjod, who in the aftermath of Charlemagne's demise seeks oppurtunities in the west.
Einar Eldrson
Sellsword
Aethelstan of Lincoln
The ruthless and ambitious Earl of Lincoln, determined to carve out a kingdom of his own.
Kotah
Fylgja to Vilhjalma
Gunnar Eriksson
A young and belicose viking from Trøndelag.
Ekkhart Dumont
Saxon Huskarl
Lord Landry
Baron
Lady Arlette
Countess of Northymbre
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Lady Arlette
Countess of Northymbre
Yrenhild 'Yre' Asvardottir
Yre is a shieldmaiden of great strength and wits, some claiming she was blessed by the Gods
Gunnar Eriksson
A young and belicose viking from Trøndelag.
Einar Eldrson
Sellsword
Kotah
Fylgja to Vilhjalma
Aethelstan of Lincoln
The ruthless and ambitious Earl of Lincoln, determined to carve out a kingdom of his own.
Brynjar Witch-Breaker
A grizzled old viking and a wanderer of the northern ice fields. Wreathed in mystery, he stares from behind a white beard with eyes as blue as the sky.
Kenver Daddow
Third born son of a petty king, heir to nothing and outcast to all
Lord Landry
Baron
Konungr Erak Sigurdsson
The ambitious konungr of Svithjod, who in the aftermath of Charlemagne's demise seeks oppurtunities in the west.
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Kenver Daddow
Third born son of a petty king, heir to nothing and outcast to all
Einar Eldrson
Sellsword
Kotah
Fylgja to Vilhjalma
Lord Landry
Baron
Yrenhild 'Yre' Asvardottir
Yre is a shieldmaiden of great strength and wits, some claiming she was blessed by the Gods
Aethelstan of Lincoln
The ruthless and ambitious Earl of Lincoln, determined to carve out a kingdom of his own.
Gunnar Eriksson
A young and belicose viking from Trøndelag.
Ekkhart Dumont
Saxon Huskarl
Brynjar Witch-Breaker
A grizzled old viking and a wanderer of the northern ice fields. Wreathed in mystery, he stares from behind a white beard with eyes as blue as the sky.
Lady Arlette
Countess of Northymbre
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18 posts · 5 characters present · last post 2016-01-01 14:38:41 »
Dark Age Europe ↪ Uppsala Owner: LordTalbot
A Norse city in the nominal kingdom of Svitjod.
12 posts · 4 characters present · last post 2015-12-20 13:12:22 »
The capital of the Kingdom of Wessex in Saxon England.
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