Hmm. There seems to be a gaping void here without Lordship running. I'll put this up and see what comes of it. Maybe something decent, maybe nothing. Same general concepts: an historical culture very similar to its real life counterpart, but placed in a world a bit different for the sake of zest. What unfolds next? Only the Vala herself could prophesy, but my money is on... Drama! Action! Vikings! PLUNDER!
But first, a young boy, far from the stuff of saga, prepares to go to the Thing with his father...
VIKINGR
The Prologue
Or how a funny thing happened on the way to the Thing.
"Tell the story again, old one, that tale of yours that begins on a warm Spring day! The wind whistles outside, and in the Winter's cold embrace, it is meet that men should huddle about the hearthstone, and hear what others have to say."
Said the old man in reply, "Very well, young one, but learn it yourself, if you wish to hear it a next time. Old minds forget, and old tongues grow irritable. It begins... Hmm... It begins thus...
"The grass was green on the mountainside, and the sky was ocean's hue; purest white, the flocks of sheep a-grazing on the green; purest white, the clouds a-float upon the blue. Such colors back then! Those colors are gone from the world these days. Those were the exultant colors of a young earth that young boys see. Old orbs shall never see their like again.
"Gold, too, was everywhere about us, though elusive to the grasp, as ever it is among men. The rays of the sun, those fingers of Sól, the mighty maid, who peels back the ice-grip of Winter from the northern valleys in Spring-time. She stroked the mountain valley of my youth with her golden caress and opened the white doors in the mountain passes. Then, their fields planted, their sheep sent to pasture, did the men-folk of Hrimdallir go down to the Thing to settle business and prepare for the summer travelling. I was thirteen, and it was time to become a man, to go down to the Thing with my father, a spear in my small hand.
"The warmth of the sun on the morning-cold ground caused a wispy mist to rise, and my father's trusted houseman exclaimed to us as we rode through it, 'Lokke sĺr havre i dag!' He was a southerner, with the southern accent, a slave caught during the summer travels that my father took in the days before he settled down to farm and herd. He had since earned both freedom and friendship.
"'Let Loki sow his grain today if he wishes, Sweyn. It's common enough in this season. A mist is no fear to honest men on their way to the Thing for the first time!' Father belted out a laugh, turned his barrel-shaped body around in his saddle, and flashed me a broad white grin amid red gold bristles. The smile fled as he returned to speaking with the houseman. 'But I tell you, Sweyn, this matter of the Ulfings wounding Aki in the eastern sheepfold, that's the tricksters' doing. Aleifr Konung will ... '
"The thoughts of a young boy are easily distracted, and I thought of other things when the business of the Thing was broached. Custom cannot make men of boys overnight. How long I thought, I cannot tell, but then I heard a sound, then louder again, then deafening in my ear. My name.
"Thor's hammer, but how will you vote at the Thing if you do not listen? What
alfr stole away with your thoughts this time, boy? What idle dream of yours now?"
The old one stopped his tale and arched a brow. "Is this the tale that you wanted, young one? Hmm? Well, would you seek to know more, or what?"
"Aye. This is the tale. What name did he call you then, old one, and what elf had stolen away with your thoughts?"
Norse Name, son of Norse Name, and
optionally ancestral lineage ending in -ing or -ling
Potential Elfin Distractions:
- Glory in Battle, and a Seat in Valhalla
- I Could Lift Yon Boulder, Father
- Mountains of Gold
- The Love of White-armed Women
- Awe of the Gods in Aesgarđ
- A Clever Riddle
- This Matter at the Thing, Father...
- I wonder what Ari and Friđi are doing...
Or make your own, within reason.
These are boyhood dreams. Powerful stuff. Serious business. Some options will bleed into others' spheres nearby. The two clever options somewhat enable each other, and falseness bleeds into charisma; and the two physical prowess. Most require actual player skill to leverage fully: cleverness with stupid suggestions produces stupid outcomes; but brute strength is fairly hands off and WYSIWYG.
I'll be back in a day or two. I envision a slower pace.
Ari -- a young boy of similar age
Friđi -- little brother of Ari
Klaufi -- a dull-witted boy
A Strand of HairA Length of String