Sigurd Hring's Story

"Gnaeus, fac eos hic prohibere." Reginarus said to his flag bearer in the lion-skinned pelt as the Argosian Three Legions approached the peak of the Weargtooth Mountains, following the cobblestone stairway over the rocky hump overlooking the distantly small but famous Viking Kingdom below. It was not as magical as it used to be, a shroud of grey clouds hovering slowly over the mountains, valleys and Iskjerne Bay itself providing a gloomy and dreadful, if not unwelcoming atmosphere for the observers. Signifier Gnaeus used his aerial telegraphy to make his legion halt as Reginarus remained posed in front of the army on horseback, looking down at the motte-and-bailey ringfort castle below, and the small scattered homesteads and shires just outside of its concentric wood and stone brick walls.

The air was freezing and the wind was crisp, but the army was undaunted. Reginarus had a thick and heavy fleece blanket wrapped around himself, beneath which he was fully armored over a crimson red skirt-like tunic and baggy black trousers, wearing plated torso armor, a neck protector, arm guards, shin guards, thick long socks and fur-trimmed steel fitted boots. His helmet sported a visored facemask which covered everything but his beard, and a crimson red plume of horsehair resembling a mohawk typical of the Argosian Tribunal style, looking like a Roman general in uniform but with a Nordic twist, being already more adapted to the very ground where they were standing as the Legata peered through her looking glass at the decrepit kingdom below.

General Reginarus didn't need a looking glass. Instead, he watched the Viking mercenaries in the wolf-skin pelts as they went ahead of the three legions, following their actual canine companions down the dangerous rocky hills towards the barren woodlands below using skis to navigate swiftly over the slick terrain. Reginarus looked down at his nameless horse and petted his cheek before whispering into his ear and dismounting him, grabbing his crutch and limping over to stand at the edge of a cliff, peering down at the tiny scattered villages around the open valley before him. He was still thinking about the shuriken he had seen Livia use to guard his back up in the mountains, and the other training he had received back on Niihama as he stood by, following orders while trying to formulate his own strategy. Once they reached the bottom of the mountain, the Argosian seige engines were erected into position, prepared to launch hell upon Iskjerne Bay.

Reginarus watched as the first volley of barrel-sized firepots were unleashed and hurled upon the castle before a second wave of firepots were prepared almost immediately afterwards while Livia ordered the ballistae to fire at the gate. There was a short pause and a moment of silence as they all watched the bombs fly towards their targets from a considerable distance away. Reginarus observed with an expression of curiosity and wonder in his eyes. A slight grin appeared on his face as he waited for the explosions and bursts of flames to appear when making contact with the unsuspecting savages and their fortifications.

A small band of Vikings on horseback were galloping quickly towards the gate, riding from the hills as the guards lowered the slow-moving drawbridge to prepare for their entry into the kingdom. As they rode passed the first gate, on to the second gateway and over the second drawbridge to the third and final castle wall, Queen Lagertha the Witchslayer went down to meet them, accompanied by Bjorn Ironside and the handful of guards they had brought with them. One of the horsemen quickly dismounted his large, robust Iskjerne-bred snow horse and removed his helmet as he approached the prince and queen, tucking it under his arm as he bowed respectfully before looking at them both with a hint of terror in his greenish blue eyes. "Pardon my intrusion sire, but it seems we underestimated the enemy. They are more numerous than we expected." Prince Bjorn stepped forward, placing his hand on the viking's shoulder. "How many?" He asked, not being much for small talk. "At least a few thousand, maybe more" the Hestuhar said, "and they are close now, just over the hills." Queen Lagertha rushed up the steps to stand on the curtain wall, peering out over the battlements between the crenels to the distant hills on the horizon, noticing the first sign of danger as the Argosian army started to appear from over the other side of the hills almost like a sunrise in the early morning.

King Finehair was also observing the horizon from his own viewpoint at the Keep, having a much higher vantage point which enabled him to lookout over greater distances to the kingdom below. The Vikings didn't have looking glasses, however, and as King Harald squinted, his naked eyes took a moment to notice the approaching seige engines and Argosian war banners coming up over the hills about a quarter mile away. Seconds later, he noticed the first volley of barrel-sized fireballs as the six flaming clay bombs were unleashed without any sound or warning, sailing through the open sky and appearing like miniature growing stars as they neared closer and closer to the castle walls. Livia had ordered a pre-eminent strike, preventing King Harald Fairhair from intercepting the Argosian army with his own trebuchets, which still needed to be adjusted, weighted, loaded and calculated. "Shit," he said quietly to himself, before rushing over to the edge of the Keep and shouting down to the vikings on the wall below.

"Þeir eru hér!!! Hljóðið stríðsbjöllunum!!! Tilbúið slingurnar og skothringarnar!!! Allir í skjóli!!!" the king bellowed, just before the first volley of fireballs came crashing down from the sky, tails of black smoke trailing behind them. The barrel-sized clay bombs would not all hit the same area. One of them went too far, sailing completely over the castle before exploding in the fields. Another one fell short of any target, scorching the earth just outside of the kingdom's outer walls. A third pot hit the wall itself, shattering against the brick and stone in a barrage of flames which rained down on the unsuspecting grass-roof sheds and storage houses below. The fourth pot hit a windmill, causing it to collapse as the napalm-like fire spread across its cloth sails, and the structure fell over as helpless Norse villagers screamed and ran or tried to get out of the way to avoid being crushed and burned. The fifth bomb hit the merlons on one of the round guard towers, destroying a tiny upper portion of the outer wall and causing some of the Vikings to fall beneath the rubble as the bastions fell, the stone walkway collapsing in on itself beneath its own heavy weight as some of the important keystone structures had been damaged. Queen Lagertha ducked to one side of the wall and shielded her eyes as the clay pot shattered nearby, some of the small fragmented pebbles and dust showering her hair from the damaged tower above as the Vikings scrambled to prepare their own counter attack.

As the sixth firepot hit a large dead oak tree, it set the wood ablaze. "Undirbúðu kennsluna þína móðurlausu skíthælar. Miðaðu stöðugt!!!" King Harald shouted furiously, pointing to those closest to him and barking orders as he flung his cape over his shoulder, walking back down from the Keep and over to one of the inner walls of the open courtyard. The Vikings quickly prepped their own large trebuchets and catapults, calibrating them and loading them with hay bales covered in oil and pitch, which they set on fire using long wooden torches and firesticks. The catapults they loaded up with wine barrels filled with oil, but these they did not ignite with flames. As the Vikings scrambled to get their affairs in order, the Argosians used their ballistae to fire massive tungsten bolts at the main gate. Fortunately, the heavy wooden gate was protected by a spiked metal inner gate and outer metal grating or sliding gate, being situated to a barbican or gatehouse which offered some temporary protection and reinforcement around the wooden gate itself. The bolts from the ballistae would smash into the barbican or get tangled up in the metal grating, denting the heavy steel caging and sticking to the walls, yet they barely managed to pierce the large arched wooden doors themselves. The gate still held.

The Argosians had positioned their seige engines up in the highlands at the foot of the mountains, which offered them a considerable bit of elevation and range advantage against the Iskjerne vikings, at least with their trebuchets. King Harald drew the ulfberht sword from his scabbard and raised it into the air, glaring in the direction of the Argosian army with hatred and madness. "Á minni stjórn!!!" He roared over the ranks. "Og NÚNA!!!" he shouted, lowering his sword and pointing it forward at their enemies. The Vikings had 3x as many trebuchets than the Argosians had brought with them, evening the odds a little bit as the Vikings suddenly launched their own unlit wine barrels from their catapults over the castle walls towards the hills in the direction of their enemies. Yet even with a dozen more fixed catapults firing simultaneously, their range would not be enough to reach their targets, instead landing just shy of the hills in the open fields in front of them, crashing down and shattering, splintering as they fell short of their target. Reginarus and his army stood still, watching motionlessly from their unbroken formations as the Vikings failed to match the range of their Argosian trebuchets. King Harald snarled, looking down to Queen Lagertha who sighed quietly, looking up at him.

But the three legions weren't safe just yet. Off to their left flank, there was a stirring in the small barren woodland forest behind them. It appeared that the Ulfhednar and their pack of wolves had encountered a group of Hestuhar who had been trying to ride around and flank the Argosians from their blindside. Since the Hestuhar were on horseback, and seige engines move slowly over rough terrain, it could have been an early devastating blow to the legionnaires had it not been for the wolf-skinned mercenaries and their canine companions. The wolves had detected the scent of the horses from the mountains and led the Ulfhednar right to the Hestuhar, and the Argosians could hear the distant howling, barking, screams and war cries, and the sounds of clashing weapons echoing from the woodlands at the foot of the mountains as the Ulfhednar and Hestuhar engaged in their own little side battle amongst themselves. Reginarus turned his attention back to Livia before mounting his horse again and awaiting orders.

Queen Lagertha ducked to one side of the wall and shielded her eyes as the clay pot shattered nearby, some of the small fragmented pebbles and dust showering her hair from the damaged tower above as the Vikings scrambled to prepare their own counter attack. Her hair was on fire, and she could feel the heat from the napalm-like substance burning the left side of her face. Quickly she reached into the pouch on her hip and grabbed her sheers, a pair of Castle Age snips or scissors forged by Iskjerne's greatest northern blacksmiths, using ideas and technology they learned from Raven-Floki the Wise before he left the bay and went to the red moon. Lagertha the Witchslayer had no options. Her face was burning. She grabbed the snips and clipped her hair instinctively, tossing them aside when it didn't work as she ran down the steps from the stone wall and stuck her whole head in the well bucket full of water. This still didn't work, until one of the witches walked up and grabbed her, throwing her on the ground and wrapping her in a blanket coated with methyl bromide, an organic substance produced by microorganisms that just so happened to put the fire out.

After a moment of silence, staring at the smoking blanket, Queen Lagertha arose from underneath it, looking more pissed off than injured. Her face was red on the left side, and the hair on the left side of her head was gone. She glanced at the kattrfylka for a moment, nodding silently in a thankful manner before grabbing the blanket and draping it over her own shoulders like a queen's cape, representing the House of Munso, albeit not in the greatest of taste, ordering her shield maidens to saddle up and prepare to move out. The uglarii with her quickly grabbed their weapons and mounted their horses, as a great horned snowy owl suddenly flew down and perched on Lagertha's shoulder, being a magical specimen only native to Iskjerne Bay from an extremely rare species adapted to the harsh northern climate. Not all of the uglarii were there with the queen, but those that were meant business.

Thorrun, Torvi, Snaefrid, Gunnhild, Helga and Ingrid were all shield-maidens. Rumor had spread that all of them were the wives of Bjorn Ironside, the queen's oldest son. But rumors had also spread that Bjorn Ironside himself was the biological son of Rollo, fostered by Ragnar, whose own father had fostered Rollo thus making Rollo and Ragnar brothers of the same house, and making Bjorn the bearer of a great honor, burden and legacy beyond what he often demonstrated. He stood on one of the walls overlooking the bastions, his berserkers holding their positions despite the barrage from Livia's seige weapons. Rooftops burned, banners were set aflame, and Bjorn watched as some of the older constructions in and around the kingdom started to crumble and break. A few farmers and scattering peasants scrambled to put out the fires with bales of water, but to no avail. Only the newer constructions made of stone and iron would stand against the napalm-like terracotta firepots. With the order of the king, Prince Bjorn turned to the guardian with the gjallarhorn and nodded. The ten foot horn sounded. It was made from the horn of an Iskjerne Cow, a female bovine which possessed horns like a bull. The low sound carried for over a mile across the mountains, and could be heard by the Argosians in the distance. Things were about to get interesting.



The Hestuhar had been broken into groups and divided up in order to cover a larger area. While a group of 25-50 of them were being held up in the dead barren woodlands, another splinter group of heavily armored juggernauts on equally equipped Iskjerne horses had been posted and waiting for the Argosians to pass through the mountains, counting on them to take the easiest path through the rocky passage to Iskjerne Bay, which they did expectedly. In doing so, they had avoided the hidden trail to the Rainbow Forge up in the mountains, where the Hestuhar were preparing a trap. They had disassembled the ten water mill wheels and rigged them with explosives, nailing large metal spikes along the spokes and spindles in order to create five devastating weapons known as the Wheels of Death, and as the Hestuhar heard the sound of the gjallarhorn, they ignited the cordite wicks on the five giant wagon-sized wheeled bombs and pushed them over the mountain slopes, allowing these giant devices to roll down the hill and gain momentum as they bulldozed their way through the Argosian columns, each one weighing over two tons of solid heavy wood covered with 4 foot cast-iron spikes, decorated with many simple leather sacks fitted with cordite wicks and filled with medieval powderless explosives. The bombs were targeted at the Argosian trebuchets, and the hundreds of armored soldiers positioned in their path, with the ability to run them over in the process.

Capitalizing on this sudden surprise attack from above and behind the Three Legions, the heavily armored cavalrymen charged down the slope after them, following their exploding rolling contraptions into the very heart of the Argosian advancement, using the opening caused by their exploding death wheels to storm their way in and cause confusion, hoping to split the Argosian Army into two. The other Hestuhar in the small barren woodlands were already clashing hard and struggling with the Argosian ulfhednar as one of the heavily clad horsemen was grabbed and dragged from his horse by a rather large 180 pound Iskjerne dire wolf, which shook the juggernaut around and mauled his face through the visored helmet he had been wearing just as a couple of the wolf-coated Viking mercenaries prodded him with spears, finishing him off by stabbing him to death through the weak points in his metal armor. Iskjerne Vikings were ruthless warriors, and the Ulfhednar would yip and howl, growling and hollering as they ran through the trees or scurried about on dog-pulled sleds, chasing the Hestuhar.



Titus arrived immediately afterwards, followed by another small band sent by Reginarus and led by Cassicus, who rode beside Titus into the fray. At first it seemed that the Argosians had the upper hand as they pushed the Hestuhar back into the woods, picking them apart one by one as they pursued them without mercy, seeking to kill all of them and spare themselves from any later retaliation. But the Hestuhar had been tactful, and King Harald had already developed an ambush that the Argosians had walked right into without thinking. Suddenly, another group of Vikings appeared in the woodlands, only these were Hornuglar, running on foot between the trees and maneuvering in such a way as to flank the Equites, having already prepared several traps for them in the form of pits, nets and snares, as the shield-maidens started making war cries, hurling javelins and thrusting spears at the Argosian cavaliers, using their shields to engage the Ulfhednar traitors in melee on foot among the barren woodlands while the Hestuhar regathered and pushed back again, clashing with the Argosian troops once more in a renewed battle for dominance.

King Harald Fairhair looked out over his kingdom, and the minor damage that had been caused by the exploding terracotta firepots. So far, everything was going exactly according to plan. His catapults had failed to reach the enemy, but they were never supposed to. The Vikings weren't trying to hit the Three Legions, they were calibrating the distance on their own trebuchets and preparing to strike back with precision accuracy. The shots from the catapults were merely being used to measure the distance and wind factor whilst simultaneously covering the field before Livia with flammable liquid, the shattered wine barrels having saturated the ground with oil that was just waiting to be ignited. But he didn't order the fields to be set ablaze just yet, instead ordering the trebuchets he had prepared to get ready for launch. But before he could give the order, another volley of Argosian fireballs struck the kingdom, this time taking out two of the eighteen Viking trebuchets in a hailstorm of fire and rubble as the wooden debris fell from the walls and towers, crashing into the stables and wheelcarts below and spreading more flames throughout the kingdom.

It wouldn't be enough to persuade the Vikings to surrender, however, as they launched their own 16 remaining trebuchets in a timed counter attack, hurling their own flaming claypot jars back at the Argosian legions with a fury they likely were not expecting. The fireballs sailed through the gloomy sky like burning comets, only this time the Argosians were not out of range as the trebuchets had a much greater pull than the catapults, and were much more likely to hit their targets. A third small gang of about 50 Hestuhar on horseback appeared from the open village ahead, charging out on to the battlefield in a full on frontal assault towards the Argosian front line, attacking at the same time as the Viking firepots flew overhead before them, acting like shock troops in combination with all of the unexpected explosions to further divide the Argosian ranks and cause more chaos, hoping to disable their organization and cut off their communications.

As the three groups of Hestuhar began to strike the Three Legions on all three sides, pushing their way against the front line and left flank while driving into their center and spreading outwards from behind, King Harald ordered the trebuchets and other seige engines to be reinforced. The Vikings wasted no time in sliding the large bromomethane covered animal skin tarps over the thick wooden mobile wall garrisons as they pushed them in front of their trebuchets, offering some layer of protection against the Argosian napalm bombs, at least temporarily. The Argosians had chosen to fight with fire, but that was to be expected from the massive billows of smoke they left in their wake. So the Vikings were now resolved to show the legionnaires how to be true pyromaniacs by fighting fire with fire, something that the Iskjerne Vikings had become rather notorious for in earlier years. The Argosians, who had started to takeout the Viking trebuchets, suddenly found their own trebuchets and seige engines being threatened by superior firepower and a handful of carefully orchestrated raiders who had lured Livia and Reginarus directly into an ambush.

"Alright. Steady. Wait for it... Annnnnd now." Halfdan the Black said as he and Thorvald Eriksson turned the mighty Eye of Colossa into position again, accounting for the movement of the massive object in orbit above Gaia's exosphere. The giant space particle laser cannon, otherwise just an attachment on the large 50 ton long twin barrels of the Viking Telescope was aimed directly at the CU Cheerfulness rather than at its tiny dropships as they entered Gaia's atmosphere.

Eric the Red confirmed the coordinates, nodding to his daughter Freydis, who nodded back before repeating the coordinates and issuing the command to start hacking the CU Cheerfulness rather than risking an EMP wave, as Floki the Vitki had advised their new colony to be mindful of the solar system and protect Gaia at all costs. "I detected small pods descending from the target towards Northern Ellaria, possibly towards Iskjerne Bay, but I can't access Iskjerne Bay from the googled satellite, maps or search base due to a strong interference. It could be a snow storm, or the Ward," Thorstein Eriksson said abruptly.

"What do you mean, Googled?" Freydis asked sternly, looking confused and disgruntled with furrowed eyebrows. Thorstein quickly walked over from his station to where Freydis was standing, changing the frequency channel on her screen monitor to display a blurry video and a folder of missing images. "I mean it's not there, it's all googley eyed and distorted, look." Freydis and Thorstein both stared at the blurry screen in frozen silence, trying to make sense of why the video showed an area of space that was strangely distorted.

"It has to be the Ward," Freydis said, referring to Iskjerne Bay's own invisible force field sparked by a clever viking colony's use of magic and powerful witchcraft during Gaia's earlier years, an obscure magical dome of protection against technology which... didn't exist... The distorted images were caused by some other means, not by the Vikings of Iskjerne Bay, but rather by the Vikings of the Empyrean Empire, whose civilization was composed of several magical races and species that used their own innate abilities to perform magic, rather than leaning on the energy of Gaia as some Vikings did.

Floki the Vitki was wise in his old age. He was older now, and bald with no head hair apart from his slanted eyebrows and his rustic greyish brown beard. His eyes were still white with blindness, but after many years, he slowly accumulated to his surroundings to gain more milky grey irises and pupils that were now noticeable. He was still blind, but not entirely, for in his old age he could see very blurry shapes and colors, enough to detect movement but not to identify features.

Floki's giant telescope and secret weapon attachments were not the kind of magical weapons that were used by Empyrean Norsemen, as Floki himself was a veteran Iskjerne Viking from the time of Sigurd's sons, and when Erik the Red charged the crystal laser, Colossa itself began to bruise and bleed from the immense energy required to operate the massive tether-like weapon module. The Vikings of Agartha had done something truly epic that no other Viking on Gaia had ever done, by creating a means to observe the galaxy through a microscope and combat against any space-bound foreign objects within their immediate solar system from the surface of their world.

The Empyrean Empire may have had the space ships and the record among Gaian Vikings for exploring other galaxies, but Floki's colony on Colossa had gone the extra mile, using Sigurd Hring's simple sunstone approach to study Colossa's composition instead and learn about its surface, its minerals and all that could be gathered from its stones and sand. The Eye of Colossa, as the colonists referred to it, was built using what available minerals and materials were already present on Colossa's surface, as if the man-made giant cannon was part of Colossa itself, fueled and powered by Colossa's own energy.

That meant that the Eye of Colossa could fire long distances across the solar system, but it would require the moon's life force to do so, which meant that every time the cannon was charged, it destroyed part of the Viking's own protected tropical paradise. Over time, an overuse of that power could therefore cause problems for future generations. The first generation born in Agartha on Colossa knew the risks, and as the old prophet named Floki sat quietly on his bench, he thought about the future and all the children born in Colossa because of him. He wondered for a moment if he had made the right decision to bring the Vikings to the barren red moon, and what decisions their younger descendants would have to make once he died.

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Things appeared tense in the solar system, but as the hours ticked by slowly, most of the Colossan vikings of Agartha had plenty of time to do other things besides work on their giant surface telescope. Leiv Eriksson and Kaleb Flokisson were out prospecting the red moon's barren desert for gold, silver, zinc, iron deposits and crystals such as transparent quartz and red agate, obsidian and whatever other wonders they might find when suddenly they noticed something off in the distance. There was an Empyrean converiboat parked, hovering near the hill where Floki's posse had originally emerged from the Crystal Nexus.



About ten passengers had jumped out of the small transport vessel and were walking around the hill of rocks and sand from the crude failed attempt that Floki's crew had made to build a shelter some years prior. Among the new arrivals were two vikings that were not of Empyrean descent, but were accompanied by Empyrean Norsemen nevertheless on the obviously Gaian viking karvi. The first was William "Longsword" Hrolfsson the Tartarean Norman count, the firstborn son of Duke Robert "Rollo" the Viking, who was older now but still living, and the other young man squatting down gazing at the sand was Sitric Cáech, the Hiberno-Scandinavian son of Ivar the Boneless who had been born right before his father died in Iskjerne Bay, despite rumors that Ivar was unable to procreate and thus had no heirs.

Sitric was staring into the sand at an old runic inscription that had been made many years ago. "Erik the Red was Here", it said, and Sitric Cáech repeated those words back to William Longsword, who walked up and stood behind him, looking down at the inscription. "Who is Erik the Red?" Count William asked, having never heard of him before. Sitric chuckled slightly with a grin. "My mother raised me in Iskjerne Bay, but after my father died, she feared the other vikings might kill me before I was a man, so she sent me to the Empyrean Sea Beach with an old man named Thorvald Bloodyfist, an outlaw returning from exile. He had a son named Erik the Red, but nobody ever knew what had become of him... Apparently, he came here" Sitric smirked, standing up.

Just then, the other Empyrean vikings started shouting and pointing at the horizon, causing William and Sitric to glance over. There in the distance, watching them was Leiv Eriksson and Kaleb Flokisson, who upon being noticed, suddenly turned around and took off running in the other direction. The party's commander yelled at everyone to get back in the convertiboat, and soon they had caught up to Leiv and Kaleb, almost running them over with their silver vessel before stopping and jumping out of the hovering boat with their weapons drawn. Outnumbered and unprepared for combat, Leiv and Kaleb looked at each other before surrendering without a fight.

They would lead the Empyrean Viking party back to Agartha to the telescope near the entrance to their underground hidden colony, and soon Erik Thorvaldsson and his other children observed as the foreign convertiboat approached their position with its visor down, so that they could clearly see Leiv and Kaleb seated in the middle of the shallow deck with the Empyrean captain standing at its bow. "Woman, go down and get the others," Halfdan the Black ushered. "I'm not your slave anymore Prince Halfdan, that's my son aboard that craft, go and fetch them yourself" Thodhilda said sternly, looking over at Halfdan before looking at her husband Erik, who shrugged before pulling out his own small pocket lens and gazing at the new arrivals.

Halfdan the Black nodded quietly and turned to enter the scaffold that led down into the cave's open entrance chamber. Moments later, the convertiboat had arrived with all the twelve passengers jumping out to greet Hrafn-Floki the very old prophet and the entire moon colony, along with the first generation of children who were now all old enough to work and fight, and have children of their own. William and Sitric released Leiv Eriksson and Kaleb Flokisson who walked over and hugged their fathers, before introducing everyone to the new arrivals. It would seem that the Empyreans were not looking for a bargain or a fight, but were really just interested in hospitality, food and shelter after having explored the red moon and finding nothing.

"Dad, can I do the rite of koryos?" Kaleb Flokisson asked. Hrafn-Floki the Vitki stopped carving with his seax, pausing before chuckling and responding back with a high pitched voice whilst blindly staring at the sky. "Who told you about the koryos?" he asked, before going back to work in carving his wooden idol of Loki and Sigyn from a single piece of fire-stricken oak. Despite being blind, Floki had spent his entire life building boats and carving wood, and no longer needed his worldly physical vision to smell the trees or feel the grain. Kaleb walked over to his father and sat beside him. "The newcomer, Sitric Cáech said that all young men used to do it. I'm a man now, I'm old enough. I should take care of our family." Floki's son said, speaking openly to his mostly blind father.

"Your son speaks of the koryos," Erik Thorvaldsson said as he entered Floki and Helga's home, checking up on his old neighbors from across the open grove. Floki of course recognized his young friend's voice and said nothing, only chuckling uncontrollably, something he had done all his life as a consequence of pseudobulbar affect ever since he was young. "Were you in the koryos, uncle Thorvaldsson?" Kaleb asked curiously. "Heh, no... Sort of... My father was. The koryos is banned in the Empyrean Empire, but, my father initiated me anyway when I was very young," Erik the Red answered. "What did you do?" Kaleb asked inquisitively. Floki and Erik both paused for a moment, and the only sound in Floki's house was the crackling of fire from the open fireplace, before Floki started carving again silently.

"My father took me far away from our homeland to Iskjerne Bay, and then I came here with Floki... That was the last time I saw my father," Erik Thorvaldsson said calmly, recollecting the past, and the time on the wagon, when Livia Caesarius of the Argosian Empire had paid his father to escort her with some wretched draugr they had discovered on the mainland. "We had a tradition in Iskjerne Bay long ago... It was still practiced there when I left," Floki said quietly. Floki never told his son Kaleb why he left Iskjerne Bay, only mentioning that it was too painful to remember why he left. Kaleb Flokisson till now had never heard anything about his older sister who had died in Iskjerne Bay, as both his parents had never quite finished mourning for her.

"But this isn't the Empyrean Sea Beach, this is Agartha, father. None of you have made any law against the koryos. What is it? I'm curious," Kaleb said with an open mind. Hrafn-Floki again stopped working, and Erik the Red hesitated before nodding and answering the young man's question. "There are four traditions, depending on the tribe," Erik said calmly, sitting next to Kaleb by the fireplace while staring into the flames, trying to recollect everything his father Thorvald Bloodyfist had taught him before they parted ways.

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"The ravens, the boars, the wolves, and the bears," Erik said calmly, causing Kaleb Flokisson to glance at his own father. "Is that why they call you Hrafn-Floki?" Kaleb asked, causing his father to giggle uncontrollably once again. "Yes, your father was a raven. The best of them I'd say," Erik chimed in. "No bird has ever taken flight the way your father has Kaleb, and we all owe him our gratitude... Whereas my own father was a bear, solitary, never much for words", Erik continued to educate the young master in the ways of their ancestors, watering it down so to speak. What he actually meant was that Thorvald Bloodyfist was a pure viking, and had a bloody reputation for murdering his aggressors rather than negotiating. In fact, his family's bloody reputation was part of the reason why the tradition had been banned in the first place.

"And Sitric Cáech?" Kaleb asked, wondering about the young foreigner who had brought up the topic to begin with. Erik just shook his head, but Floki chuckled. "Hehehe, I knew his father Ivar, yes. I remember him when he was a child," Floki said. "A crippled boy with brittle bones, slithering this way and that like a dragon, I remember... His father was my best friend, who left him for dead when he was only a week old... I remember that boy when he grew up, and became a vikingr. I envy him to this day... Such a brave lad", Floki said, hinting at some deeper disappointment from his past and reason for leaving Iskjerne Bay, almost off topic. Erik and Kaleb listened quietly as Floki tried to remember, but his Alzheimer's disease made it difficult for him to remember exactly every detail from years ago.

"Well... In any case, that was a long time ago, and those old ways have passed. Nobody does the koryos anymore. Especially now, here in this barren wasteland, it's not safe," Erik the Red warned. But Kaleb was still curious, unpersuaded by their stories. "But it's not supposed to be safe... Father, you know you are getting older now. You're blind dad, and your mind and body aren't what they used to be. You and mother raised me to be a Viking, and I am ready to join the koryos, just like our ancestors did on Gaia long ago," Kaleb Flokisson insisted, causing Erik to rest his hand on Floki's shoulder. Floki nodded quietly, letting out a soft giggle. "Am I really that old? Am I so obsolete that I can not protect my family? Hehehe. Tell me boy, who is able to perform this ritual? You boys won't last one week on Colossa, much less the whole winter, and I am not ready to lose another child so soon," Floki said, again hinting at the fact that he already lost his daughter.

The house was filled with silence for a while, as Floki continued to carve his wooden idol. Kaleb Flokisson sat next to him quietly, disappointed, while Erik the Red scratched his long red beard before speaking up. "You know, I can relate to what the boy is saying." He said. "I'm not a boy," Kaleb retorted defensively. After some back and forth bickering and arguing, finally Floki agreed to let Erik the Red perform the rite of passage, so long as the young men in their colony agreed to certain rules and accommodations. For starters, once initiated the koryos would be forbidden from raiding Agartha or even staying to wander on Colossa, and secondly they were not to be banished from the colony for more than a whole season. Kaleb argued for a year while Erik ofted for a week alone, but the wise old Floki met their argument halfway by allowing the young men to venture out during the winter. Afterwards, the survivors would be welcomed home and granted certain privileges as ulfhednar, berserkers, svinfylking and feathercloaks.

This was the first time in a long long time, since Bjorn Ironside, that any young warriors from Gaian Viking descent would actually partake in the koryos tradition and be initiated formally, in a cult-like spiritual manner in order to become wildlings and religious warriors, leaving their parent's nest to fly away from home and die free, or survive and return as bonified men and certified Vikings in some sacred order or union. Erik the Red and Floki the Blind himself would participate in training the young men and preparing them for their journey. But for this to happen, there needed to be a secret ceremony involving magic, fire, and an animalistic feral rite of passage involving a mixture of beer and mead with henbane and nightshade to produce certain shamanic effects that would ultimately lead the young men to discover their own primal natures, and their innate animal spirits hiding dormant within.