Group 1 (Harauld, Elric, Edyssa, Thorfinn):
It is, as always, high noon upon the Bifrost, the hot, humid climate of the Rainbow Bridge serving as a strark contrast to the cold northlands of lost Midgard. In the years since Ragnarok, Midgard’s refugees have adapted to their new home, spreading out from the settlement of Ragnfeld, harvesting trees, hunting the novel wildlife and establishing agriculture. Lately however, Bifrost’s wildlife has been biting back.
Here, at the northern edge of the farmlands taking shape around Ragnfeld, lies the small village of Arnsford, home to a hardy collection of farmers, woodsmen and crafters. This thriving community has lately fallen under the shadow of a winged predator, evoking uncomfortable memories of some of the beasts loosed during Ragnarok. The predator, described as some manner of winged serpent, has been taking livestock for some days now, to the fury of farmers to whom all good breeding stock is precious. There is also the fear it will turn its attention to people. So far, the serpent has eluded efforts to bring it to battle, prompting local Thegn Gulbrandr Frostmane to put out a call for hunters to track and kill it.
Gulbrandr’s call has netted him perhaps a dozen prospective hunters, a mix of locals and people from further afield. It has also netted him an audience of villagers. At present, the interested parties are gathered on the village green, waiting on Gulbrandr to kick things off. There is a low murmur of conversation as people discuss the serpent’s depredations, speculate on the Thegn’s plan, or simply catch up on news and gossip.
Group 2 (Hedrick, Vaynard, Yudra, Ynghildr):
It is, as always, high noon upon the Bifrost, the hot, humid climate of the Rainbow Bridge serving as a strark contrast to the cold northlands of lost Midgard. In the years since Ragnarok, Midgard’s refugees have adapted to their new home, spreading out from the settlement of Ragnfeld, harvesting trees, hunting the novel wildlife, establishing agriculture and exploring the jungles. The rainforest provides a range of resources for the survivors of Midgard. From the obvious resources of lumber, fruits, wild game and the like to spell components and exotic materials for crafting enchanted items. The jungle has its dangers of course, but given appropriate preparations and respect, there’s a great deal to attract visitors.
Perhaps a day’s walk into the jungle, atop a hill, sits a small hunting cabin, constructed for the convenience of anybody hunting in or traveling through the region. It’s not much to look at, but it provides good shelter and facilities for cleaning and skinning catches, as well as preserving meat. Accordingly, the cabin sees a fair amount of use, and often serves as a meeting point. Today, there are only a few people present, gathered together by coincidence or design at this small outpost of an exceedingly small civilisation.
Although they’re close to home, and the region is reasonably well explored, Bifrost’s jungles retain an element of mystery. Corridors of exploration tend to follow rivers, with little revealed about the rainforest’s interior. New plants and animals are constantly being discovered, and nobody yet claims to know just how far the jungle extends. Such matters, however, take second place for the moment to a shared meal and conversation on topics of interest to the travelers.
In a collection of ramshackle huts, shanties and hovels stands the wooden structure of The Wanton Walrus. It's northern design is plain to those aware of that style of architecture, though it is executed in the most crude of form and materials.
The building serves as a tap house of sorts, hardly big enough to serve that purpose, but the escape and relief promised by the fluids bartered and traded for inside draws a crowd none the less.
Inside a north man with hair, braids and personality aplenty holds court at the bar. A mighty bastard sword with a winter wyrm motif is strapped to the mans back while silver and iron religious symbols hang from his neck or are worked into his beard. There is a joyful glint to his eyes, but there also lurks a red rimmed madness to them. Those familiar with the men of the north hazard to guess the man may have the blood of the berserk running through his veins.
"Praise be to the gods that I am alive and found my way here. The world as we all once knew it is gone . . . most everyone we have known are dead, lost or worse, their fates left unknown to us. Our minds are lent to imaginations tainted by seeing ghouls leaping from ships built of bone and fingernail . . . sails fashioned from the still bleeding flayed skins of victims from the last raid."
The man stops for a moment to touch the torc at his neck and murmurs a prayer while making motions with his fingers to his gods.
"Forgive me, but such rituals should not be neglected when one finds himself in a peaceful place and has the luxury to offer thanks and ask for protections. . . What was that?"
One of the men at the bar murmurs his question again.
"Oh, no offense taken. You ask me for an answer to the question many have already asked or wish to. Here friend give me your mug. . . Yes the ale in this place is quite good, but from where I hail we did not have wheat to spare for the purpose of fermenting it. Even in the good times."
The man's eyes get a bit distant as he speaks of the past.
My people made our drink of choice from bees honey. Heh! Well truth be told the sudden freeze killed all the bees quick so we didn't have honey to spare for drink in the dark times either, but all here know of what those times were like. Hand the mug to me."
After being handed the mans emptied cup. The cleric offers up another prayer, but this time with obvious magical results. A heady sweet smelling golden fluid fills the cup which is then handed back to its original owner.
"You see! The gods still exist. They still fill me with their blessings. The entire universe has been shaken. While I, nor anyone I have spoken to have seen or heard from the gods since the dark times, miracles like this prove they still exist as we do. They are likely combating to secure their place in the world as surely as we are here. They have not abandoned us and we must not abandon them either. For surely they still lend us their blessings."
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The warrior wraps up his tale while checking the skin of his knuckles and flexing the fingers on his right hand.
"Eh, so anyway I'm not sure if it was my god talk or the demonstration that I could produce beverages from thin air that got me kicked out of the Walrus. How was I supposed to know that my coin was no good there? I did just arrive a short time before then after all."
"The gods got me here and I am thankful for it. I am not about to renounce them or bear false witness against them!"
"So anyway, what passes as the law in town suggested that I leave for a few days and let things cool off for a bit. . . Amazing how a few tankards of dark beer can improve interpersonal relations. Heh heh heh.."
"So what's your story friends? And can I Interest you in a drink?"
As Hedrick speaks, a nearby man sits at a table with a large bag of nuts, quietly shelling each one. While his features are clearly Ascomi, little else of him seems to be. He wears naught but a simple sarong, which may not be a terrible choice given the heat. His hair, pale blonde, reaches past his shoulders, free of braids or other decorations. Instead, he seems to favor an array of bracelets and bangles, a couple with cheap gems inlaid into them, and a curious lattice of small golden chains that rest upon his shoulders. More interestingly are a series of odd-looking tattoos, thin bands of curious nonobjective pattern trace along his muscles in a curious kind of lattice, possessing a kind of iridescence that makes them shift through a variety of colors as he moves.
More curious is how he shells the nuts. Rather than smashing them open or prying them apart with a tool, he runs his finger along their seam, causing them to split in half as he completes the circuit. Then he carefully pulls out the meat, places it into a small bag, and sets the shell aside. During Hedrick's tale, has made good progress on the hill of nuts he had brought with him to the lodge.
In the silence after the priest's story, he continues to shell nuts for a few moments, then slows and frowns slightly before looking over. "Ah. I do not partake in strong beverages, but I thank you for the offer. If you are new to Ragnfeld, then you have likely learned many of its lessons already." He holds up a nut and says, "This bears more worth than any coin these days. So too is earning the good will of your fellow man, or kobold, or what have you."
When asked for his story, he shrugs. "I am but a huntsman and a forager. I simply came here to have a nice place to sit while I shell these nuts and wait for my brother to arrive. Then perhaps we'll go to town and have lunch together and catch on the week. I am Yudra." After a moment of delay, he lamely adds, "It is a pleasure."
Thorfinn also stood waiting amongst the crowd, occasionally drawing on his tankard of ale.
He had been working in the local smiths shop with a local named Bjarn on some axehead projects of his and his ears were just starting to stop ringing. They had taken a boisterous midday break at the tavern when the crowd in the square drew their attention. People in the crowd said the Theign was supposed to speak on some matter of importance, and he wondered if there was opportunity here...
"Not fond of strong drink? Heh heh, that's why I offered beer! If I could make whiskey or absinthe now that would be a feat. Eh, to each his own. . . Not big on clothes or armor either . . . Hummmm, are you a skin walker? Is that how you are getting that claw to open the nuts?"
"Don't worry if you are, many of those from my homeland carried the blood of beasts, wolf, bear, boar or otherwise. Down south they frowned on it, up north it was a boon."
"Oh! By the way if you find a few rotten ones in there don't throw them away, I can refresh them. Well actually I can refresh just about any food. One of the blessings the gods granted me. Helped me find food when things were real lean. Might be of use in town."
Dot
"No, I merely prefer as little between the stars and I as possible," says Yudra, as he opens another nut. "What you see is merely the result of that understanding. There is, in the end, no difference between the matter of this nut, the matter of the air, and the matter of myself. With that in mind, one need only reach deeply down to touch the true essence. And then..." he opens another nut for emphasis.
"As for restoring food, gods or not, it would be welcome. Can you turn a spoiled bushel, or merely a few spoiled apples? The former would make you well in demand."
"Well not a bushel yet, but rather a large basket at a time, or 16 gallons of drink. However with enough prayer, I could do a whole cart load in a day."
He picks up the two discarded halves of one of the nuts.
"There is another gift of the gods I posses."
He smashes the nutshell by pressing the flat of his hatchet against it on the table.
"Most men and creatures of the universe can damage and destroy."
He scoops up the debris into his cupped hand.
"But the gods bless us with the ability to heal and restore as well."
He places the returned to whole nut back on the table.
"Since it looks as though most durable goods here have been brought from afar, my skill at mending a healing should be welcomed. The gods have sent me to mend flesh and minds as well. I am sure there is such work to do here."
"Are you and your brother from this place? The rainbow bridge I mean? I had always thought it was simply a mode of transportation for the gods. I did not realize it was a realm unto itself. Are you one of its native peoples? If it is always summer here I might have to start running around in my baby swaddling clothes too!"
Edyssa stands close to her husband munching away on a delicious golden colored Apple with just a slight blush. One of the favorite apples from their garden. With her she carried a large basket of these crisp apples hoping to sell them later in the day or trade them for some ale. "What all do you think they will say? Perhaps a job?"[b] She offers an apple to her husband winking at him then tossing one up at him. She spots Thorfin in the crowd. She calls to him waving hello with an apple in her hand. She picks the best looking apple from her basket and tosses it to him. [b]"Hope you like it!" She says to him while smiling.
"I hope so, I wonder what he is offering though? Seems these serpents are becoming a pain." Elric replies as he catches the apple Edyssa tossed his way. Greedily taking a bite from it he smiles towards her.
"Thorfinn! I'm surprised you left your forge long enough to join in something like this."
Elric stands at just under 6 feet his hair one long braid formed of many microbraids each one capped with a small metal bead. His bright eyes a stormy gray with a dark ring around the iris. A tattoo of a snake winds its way up his right arm its head resting upon the back of his hand. An unstrung longbow peeks over his shoulder.
She picks the best looking apple from her basket and tosses it to him. "Hope you like it!"
Juggling his tankard, he just barely caught it.
"Ha! Thanks Edy! Blessings of... blessings on ya!" He shouted back.Grinning at the windfall, he took a big bite.
"Thorfinn! I'm surprised you left your forge long enough to join in something like this."
He swollowed his bite.
"What is this? I was just taking a break and I saw this crowd; jest wandered over ta see what was goin' on!"
As those in the hunting lodge made small talk, the occasional brushing noise could be heard from the exterior. Beams of light spearing their way through cracks between the planks of the wall were vanishing, one after another, leaving the motes of dust to travel unseen. The pungent, mineral scent of tar was slowly presenting itself. The perpetrator of the scuffling entered, casting the door open and revealing the dust's laziness once more.
Wrapped in a dull orange cloak, and topped with a shoulder length mop of straw colored hair, the man made efficient strides towards Yudra carrying a small wooden bucket and brush. He set the bucket down next to a stool, and placed the brush across its top as he sat down. His boots were thick leather, oiled deeply and polished well, with steel shinguards matching the simple plate adorning his left shoulder.
"One more coat after this cures should keep the rain and insects out."
His expression was stern as he immediately began digging through his backpack for something.
"The gods are dead, and I am content to leave their graves undisturbed," says Yudra, his voice calm and conversational, as though he were discussing the weather, as he shells another nut. "Here dwell men who prayed to the heavens, to who prayed to the All-Father, who prayed to the forces of the hereafter, who prayed toward their homeland... None are sure if the gods still listen, or if perhaps they never listened and the miracles they granted were but our own. Many debates have been held, and I doubt few have been convinced. It is, however, a sore subject among many, and one that a wise man would consider."
When asked about his origins, Yudra gives a little smirk. "I am of the Ascomi, same as you. Thus far, I've not seen anyone else living here, though we've only explored so much of Bifrost's span. There are stories, of course, and perhaps some are true?"
Then the door opens and the smell of tar comes. Yudra glances over as the newcomer sits across from him. "Good to hear, brother." He glances toward Hedrick and adds, "This is Ynghildr."
"Nice to meet you . . . I am guessing you may hold the same belief as your brother? That the gods are dead, despite proof to the contrary. . . Hey, do you like beer?"
Ynghildr withdrew a four foot long section of iron pipe with a valve attached to it from his pack, its magical nature made obvious. He laid it down on the table, lining it up square with the edge. He then pulled a curious tool from the pack; an overgrown mallet looking thing, with numerous clasps and grooves and prongs dug into the sides of the shaft. With a few twists and folds, performed too quickly to quite comprehend, the head of the device was now a wrench of the correct size to begin separating the valve from the pipe. He began working away at it.
"My understanding of the gods is separate from that of my brother."
The valve pops off of the pipe easily, and a small amount of rust and grime shakes out.
He holds up the valve, the internal mechanism corroded to the point that the wheel used to open or close it is wobbling loosely with no resistance.
"Entirely useless."
"That's an interesting contraption you've got there. Some kind of clockwork smithing device?"
He makes a few adjustments, the wrench being replaced with two thick blades and unfolding the handle itself into two, the tool quickly changing into a large pair of cutting pliers.
"It's an anytool."
His tone signals that the demonstration should be more than sufficient to answer any questions.
"You've not introduced yourself," Yudra says. "If you are not from here, then can it be that you were roaming outside the whole time? What did you eat? How did you stay warm? What is even out there, now? No one's been able to return to to Midgard since the Fimbulwinter settled in."
She picks the best looking apple from her basket and tosses it to him. "Hope you like it!"Juggling his tankard, he just barely caught it.
"Ha! Thanks Edy! Blessings of... blessings on ya!" He shouted back.
Grinning at the windfall, he took a big bite."Thorfinn! I'm surprised you left your forge long enough to join in something like this."He swollowed his bite.
"What is this? I was just taking a break and I saw this crowd; jest wandered over ta see what was goin' on!"
"You don't...nevermind. There is some winged serpent that is eating livestock and people are afraid it'll start attackig villagers. So they've asked for hunters and the like to kill it. He says as he draws his bow and in one smooth motion has it strung and ready for use before sliding it back into his quiver.
Ynghildr unfolds a small spike from the handle of the tool and begins scraping out more rust and debris from valve's interior, his focus shifting entirely to his task.
Thorfinn swallowed the last of his apple and licked his fingers while he pondered.
"Huh. Well, d'ye think they're gonna need some muscle?"
He flexed quite impressively.
"It's like eternal night. Eternal winter. . . The appearance of the ships took us by suprise, but the villages fought well. We were all driven from our homes and pushed inland, but we fought them tooth and nail for each hillock, each valley they defiled. The wisewomen consulted the bones, blood and wind. Ragnarok they proclaimed, but one among them knew a portal. A place where the rainbow bridge met with the earth."
"The Jarls selected who would go through with the women and children, for it was unknown what would lay on the otherside. We needed to send strong men to make sure that our young ones were not taken alive . . . "
Those of us without wives or children volunteered to keep the way clear for them and lead the walking dead and creatures of nightmare off if possible. We did our duty and slew many of the enemy!"
"But, they kept coming, destroying, rising, and devouring everything and all in their paths. Soon the great horde of clans was ground down to scattered bands fighting for our places in Valhalla. That's when the gods gave me my gifts. I could heal our bodies, mend our gear, create drink, and freshen what food we could find. In battle Thor lent me his hammer and strength. Prayer fended off the cold that froze our torches and kept us safe when we could sleep. The faithful had it better than those who did not have the blessings. Despite all that I soon found myself with, but a few companions."
"Some of the best men I will ever know."
"We doubled back and scrounged what we could from our fallen fellows. The majority of the dead and terrors had moved on in their need to find living things to rend, but the land was not without dangers. We didn't know what exactly we were looking for. I thought we might find the portal. We were in the vicinity of it I believed at least."
"At last I was the only one left. I feared that the warm sleeping death would take me quietly the snow, but then I saw a light. A wisp perhaps? Such things are not unknown in my homeland. I followed it. Nothing else mattered, but to follow it. It was my only focus as my body gave its last effort."
"I wish I could tell you it led me to a ring of standing stones or down into the earth, but I would be lying. The last thing I remember is following the light then opening my eyes to the lit sky above me."
"I found myself here in this place of green and ever light. I wandered until I found a settlement who told me of the town. I had some trouble there and needed to leave to allow tempers to cool. I followed the trail to this place. So this is where Hedrick of Whitehaven finds himself now."
The door open and standing in the doorway was a creature unlike many had seen or would ever again. A Nephiliam hunter, with a catch of several Jackalope hares strung on a line. He appeared to be sweating far more heavily than the others but he, luckily, staggered his way to a table in what little shade could be found. Completely hairless and with ears akin to a cat the Nephiliam stood tall in the room
The heat. It was stifling. Made it hard to breath, hard to focus. Dehydration was a major concern. Even in this dinge of a hunting hall. Sitting heavily in full gear, his armor writhed and twisted ever so slightly. His shield too seemed as displeased as him with the blistering heat. At least the hunting was good hear, no starving himself like in the old days. But this damn heat.
It was in these moments of utter frustration he remembered. He could never go home. Everything was gone, this was all that was left, the Nephiliam failed to uphold the oaths and the clan was lost. However there was something tugging at him, despite the gods being gone he had a strange power flowing through his veins. One that he didn't quite understand, but used quite effectively. However there was something more, he couldn't quite grasp it but remembering that his home and his clan were gone shook him too his core so much that he ignored the strange feeling for now...
He pulls his arrows and begins sharpening them. One at a time, ensuring they were ready for the next hunt.
Yudra listens to the story, shelling the nuts as he goes. There seems to be parts where he almost says something, but does not. He barely makes of note of Vanyard. Just another hunter using the lodge as intended, if a bit more exotic. As Hedrick finishes, Yudra is quiet for several moments, then he says, "Your story sounds quite like many I have heard, save for one thing. It's been years since this happened, but you speak as though it were mere weeks."
Hedrick does a double take looking at the thing that just walked in the cabin.
"Without proper day and night, or another way to tell time passing, I can't give you an exact estimate, but yeah . . . Probably eight weeks or so? Give or take a week? So far I haven't seen anyone I knew, but I was only in town for a few hours. Hope this is where they came through.---Hey are there Elfin and Neibelungen here too?! I've always wanted to meet one of those."
Hedrick's brow knuckles a bit and looks towards Yudra.
"Wow, your saying you've been in here for years?! Well in that case, how big is this place? Can we get anywhere from here? . . . And what the heck does the portal look like anyway?"
Hedrick awaits a response then calls out to the newcomer, addressing the Nephilaiam.
"Pardon me, but my name is Hedrick of the Ulflandic Village of Whitehaven. Could I interest you in a cold drink?"
"A few years, along with no few refugees." Yudra says to Hedrick, "We've quite the thriving city, you may have noticed. Perhaps it pales to the great capitals of the old world, but it is sizable enough all the same. I would estimate that a couple tens of thousands call it home, from all over over the nine worlds. I doubt anyone has taken time to count, it's been a rather busy." He offers a weak grin after a moment.
As Hedrick offers his services to the newcomer, Yudra digs into a burlap sack sitting beside him, and pulls out a scroll case. Opening it, he presents a map to Hedrick. "This should be update to date in all the important ways," he says. "Be careful with it, it bears much worth."
Vaynards ears twitched visibly despite his best self control, the closest one swivels at Hendriks off of a cold drink. Of course he was interested, the man said cold. "Traitorous ears..." Is all he mumbles as he looks to Hendrik with his good eye. "Vaynard, Clan Nephiliam. I'll take a cold drink, anything to break the heat. I can trade meat and the ability to hunt if needed." Barter, always start with bartering.
"Ah! I love maps. I'll study up on this."
Hedrick gets a cup out of his pack.
"Uh, . . . Forgot to mention. It's alcoholic in nature. Beer, mead or ale? Does that meet your fancy? No need to trade for it. I am happy to be allowed to stay in this . . . Ah . . . Hunting lodge."
Thorfinn swallowed the last of his apple and licked his fingers while he pondered.
"Huh. Well, d'ye think they're gonna need some muscle?"
He flexed quite impressively.
"Well then why don't you just go with us then? Split any reward between the three of us.
Vaynard's ears twitched and the left one drooped a little. "Thanks anyway, too early for drink. What brings so many to this burning land?" He'd kill for a tankard of Klah. He never thought he would miss the taste so much.
Hedrick dips his head in a nod then kicks at something on the floor.
"Well, I guess because . . . well. There is nowhere else to go. At least that I know of. . . Um, if you don't mind me asking? How did you all get here?"
Vaynard paused at Hedrick's question...
"Hey?! How do you know its too early? Heh heh heh, have you guys found a way to keep time? Or do you just feel yourself winding down so that becomes evening so to speak? Man I bet there are some people on really messed up schedules around here. You will be trying to sleep while the barrister is just getting started and the blacksmith is in the middle of his day."
"I suppose that is the kind of stuff you all have been trying to work out. Heh, maybe living out here is the ticket... is there any reason not to live out here? Anything stopping me from making my own homestead? I guess no one really owns anything out here, or if they do I could just walk a little further away and claim that bit of ground as my own right?"
"Sure is nice to have company again though. Even though it's balls sticking to my legs hot, it's nice to not be freezing for a change."
Vaynard shrugged. "The cold you can put more furs on. The heat you can't avoid... However claiminng ground alone only means others could take it from you unless of course you created a clan... I agree that this land is open for the taking, the thought has crossed my mind and it is rich in bounty."
"It would be wise to check with people around a place before you claim it," Yudra says, as he pausing his nut shelling long enough to eat one. "There have been lawsuits where one man has settled on land another was intending to clear and farm. But that aside, claim a place and do as you like. Though it would be a good idea not to go too far out on your own, this land holds its own dangers; such as spotted cats. Their jaws are powerful enough to bite through a tortoise's shell."
After a moment, he adds. "Should that not appeal, there is no doubt space in Ragnfeld."
"Well then why don't you just go with us then? Split any reward between the three of us."
"Hah!" Laughed Thorfinn as he buffeted Elrics shoulder.
"Thanks lad, it'll be good to get out of the shop for a while!" He said nodding.
Ynghildr continued his task while glancing at the newcomer briefly. What really snagged his attention, though it only showed for a moment, was Hedrick's missing time.
Pulling the internal section of the valve and placing it, along with the rest of the valve and pipe back into his haversack.
He leaned against the wall on his stool.
"The insects this heat breeds are the true problem. I met a man who had the blood drained from his face by one that was essentially a flying horsehair brush. He could not speak for several days."
"I do hope Thegn doesn't keep us waiting too long. I hate standing in one place for long." Elric says as he cracks his neck first the right and then to the left. He then lays an oil cloth rag on the ground and begins to examine his equipment an assortment of arrows ranging from traditional broadheads to odd arrows made to explode with shrapnel. He takes a whet stone to the edges of the arrow heads examining each one before putting it away in a quiver that seems to hold more arrows than it appeared to.
"I would say the monkeys are an interesting problem," Yudra says. "If left to their own devices, they will find a way to get into your home and ransack it. They are at least as clever as the ones I've seen while travelling Midgard in the old days!"
"Do monkeys look like hairy little kids with tails that fling poop at you? If so I think I've seen them."
"The very same," says Yudra. "Some of the ones here can even wrap their tails around a branch and hang from it. Devilishly clever." After a moment he adds, "You'll want a good lock on your stores."
Vaynard listened quietly to the conversation, the beasts of the jungle were nothing compared to the beasts of the frozen wastes. Creatures that hid in the snow, eight legged horrors that collected the brains of thsoe they killed. "Good advice, I shall remember it." He returned to sitting inthe shade, the light breeze cooling the sweat on his skin as his ears swiveled to catch the lightest sounds. The swiveled forward again as he ran a whetstone across the arrowheads in his quiver. Ensuring that the next hunt would be just as swift.
"The way is closed, so my clan appears to be lost to me. Lest their is another route. However, I will carry on, in honor of the glorious dead." He smiled lightly as the 'Last of the Nephiliam' had a good sound to it.
Yudra is silent for a moment, contemplating the last of several nuts in his pile. "I would imagine," he says, looking toward Vanyard, "that they would be pleased to know one of their number escaped and can let their story be known to the rest of us survivors." He seems to ponder for a moment, then adds, "There is glory in being the first of the new civilization as well, I think. Names that will not be easily forgotten."
"Hey, you know what? If we are the last of our clans that means I've just been promoted to Jarl. I kinda like the sound of that, and the clans were still assembled into the horde. So. Heh heh, that makes me War Master Hedrick! Jarl of Whitehaven! Heh, now there is cause for celebration my friends. . . Come now, you must find some humor in it. My first engagement as War Master and I got routed from The Wanton Walrus. Heh heh, a rocky start for my administration I fear."
"You didn't have a fyrd, so it can be said not to count," Yudra replies.
"You're right, I think . . . What's a fryd?"
"A militia." Ynghildr chimes in, matter of factly.