About Dísa Valbjörndóttir
The door to the feasthall booms as it slams into the wood behind it. From out of the dark and stormy night enters a stranger. Striding up the hall between the long tables, the graceful figure stops before the village's hetman. The stares and open mouths of those warriors and wenches both as she passes causes the woman to smile brightly and the room seems palpably brighter in the presence of her mirth. Her gleaming breastplate shines in the now brighter light and, as you stare at the form fitting contures of the odd metal, you realize you can see your own reflection staring back at you. A great winged circlet rests upon her brow and her bronze hair radiates it's own light setting the silver and copper feathers of the wings aflame. A very serviceable heavy wooden shield is strapped to her left arm.
SQ Mother's Love; revelation (stoic submission, vessel of the Norns)(Midgard: Northlands pg. 42)
Combat Gear Alchemist's Fire (2), Scroll of comprehend languages, Scroll of infernal healing (4), Scroll of weaponwand Other Gear +1 Ironwood breastplate, MW Rún heiti [+2 Profession (Völva), +5% chance for successful augury or divination], Scramaseax, Þungur Úr tré Gaddur Skjöldur,Vængjaður Gríma Stýri, MW Backpack, Bedroll, Bell, Blanket, Chalk, Explorer's Outfit, Fishhook, Flint and steel, Pouch, Belt (2), Rations (10), Rope, silk 50 ft., Scroll Case, Signal Horn, Sliver of Iron, Snowshoes, Weaponsheath, spring loaded, Wooden bowl, small, Whetstone
1x ironwood breastplate 250.00gp 250.00gp 25.00lbs
1x dagger (in wristsheath) 2.00gp 2.00gp 1.00lb
1x scramaseax 7.00gp 7.00gp 3.00lbs
1x +1 darkwood heavy spiked shield 1,500.00gp 1,500.00gp 5.00lbs
1x explorer's outfit 0.00gp 0.00gp 0.00lb
1x snowshoes 5.00gp 5.00gp 4.00lbs
1x MW backpack 50.00gp 50.00gp 4.00lbs
1x bedroll .50gp .50gp 5.00lbs
1x blanket .50gp .50gp 3.00lbs
6x Highmettle Mithril in MW metal flasks 45.00gp 270.00gp 3.00lbs
10x rations .50gp 5.00gp 10.00lbs
1x rope, silk 50 ft. 10.00gp 10.00gp 5.00lbs
1x spellbook, wizard's 15.00gp 15.00gp 3.00lbs
1x case, scroll 1.00gp 1.00gp .50lb
1x scroll of comprehend languages 25.00gp 25.00gp 0.00lb
4x scroll of infernal healing 25.00gp 100.00gp 0.00lb
1x scroll of weaponward 25.00gp 25.00gp 0.00lb
1x signal horn 1.00gp 1.00gp 2.00lbs
1x weaponsheath, spring loaded 5.00gp 5.00gp .50lb
5x pouch, belt 1.00gp 5.00gp 2.50lb
2x Alchemist's Fire 20.00gp 40.00gp 1.00lb
2x Potion of Cat's Grace 100.00gp 200.00gp 1.00lb
1x Potion of Lesser Restoration 150.00gp 150.00gp 0.50lb
1x bell 1.00gp 1.00gp 0.00lb
5x chalk .01gp .05gp 0.00lb
1x fishhook .01gp .01gp 0.00lb
1x flint and steel 1.00gp 1.00gp 0.00lb
1x sliver of iron 0.00gp 0.00gp 0.00lb
1x wooden bowl, small .10gp .10gp .50lb
1x whetstone .01gp .01gp 1.00lb
1x MW runebones 100.00gp 100.00gp 1.00lb
1x feldspar 5.00gp 5.00gp .50lb
70 marcs 70.00gp 70.00gp 2.00lb
8 scillings .10gp .80gp 0.00lb
3 cypren .01gp .03gp 0.00lb
1 agates 10.00gp 10.00gp 0.00lb
1 hematite 10.00gp 10.00gp 0.00lb
1 jasper 50.00gp 50.00gp 0.00lb
1 lapis lazuli 10.00gp 10.00gp 0.00lb
1 smoky quartz 50.00gp 50.00gp 0.00lb
Total 3,000.00gp 83.50lbs
Weight 84.5/86 lbs
Mother’s Love (Su): All falsemen have an empathic link with
Shattered Psyche: Your mind is crowded with dozens of voices, fragmented snippets of your past lives. You take a –2 penalty on all Intelligence-based skill checks, Wisdom based skill checks, and concentration checks. You gain a +4 competence bonus on saving throws made against mind affecting effects. At 5th level, you’re immune to charm effects. At 10th level, you’re immune to compulsion effects. At 15th level, you’re immune to all mind-affecting effects.
Vulnerabilities: Blows from blessed weapons burn falsemen as if they were red hot and negate their regeneration for 1 round, and they take 50% more damage from spells and effects that deal sacred damage. They cannot tolerate the odor of burning wolfsbane and will not enter an area laced with it, and recoil from strongly presented holy symbols of the northern gods. These things don’t harm the falseman but merely keep it at bay. A recoiling falseman must stay at least 5 feet away from the holy symbol or sprig of wolfsbane, and cannot touch or make melee attacks against a creature holding it. Holding a falseman at bay in this manner takes a standard action. After 1 round, it can overcome its revulsion of the object and can
Wolfscarred Face: Your face is deformed, as though you were born with a wolf ’s muzzle instead of an ordinary nose and jaw. Many mistake you for a werewolf, and in areas plagued by lycanthropes, you must take pains to hide your face. You have a severe speech impediment, and any spells you cast with a verbal component have a 20% chance of failing, wasting your action but not expending the spell. You gain a natural bite attack that deals 1d4 points of damage if you are a Medium creature or 1d3 points of damage if you are Small. At 5th level, you add magic fang to your list of known spells and your bite damage increases to 1d6 if you are Medium or 1d4 if you are Small. At 10th level, the damage dealt by your bite attack increases to 1d8 if you are Medium or 1d6 if you are Small. At 15th level, you add greater magic fang to your list of known spells and the damage dealt by your bite attack increases to 2d6 if you are Medium or 1d8 if you are Small.
Disir Dreams: Once per week while sleeping you have a dream that predicts the future, giving you the equivalent of a divination spell. Roll d100% for clarity as normal: Failure produces a very cryptic dream. The GM may also choose to bestow these dreams on you
Falseman: You gain the renegade falseman template (pg. 106 Northlands)
Unscathed: Any resistances you possess are increased by 2.
Disa grew up embracing her destiny. The tales told by her mother of the shield maidens and swanmays judging the worth of dying warriors on the battlefield and weighing the whispered words of lovers set her imagination on fire. Hearing her father's stories of their ancestors, descendants of gods from time forgotten lent Disa a solemnity to her thoughts and words. Her youth was spent joyfully singing the sagas of her fore-bearers as she plied sword and shield against her father and his trusted shield-brothers, training to become a skirnir.
When the old woman came to her family's lands, she heard of the wild warrior girl. When she sat across the table from the jarl, she listened to him extolling the virtues of his beautiful daughter. When the crone sat upon a tree stump watching her practice, the natural grace in her maneuvers caused her old withered heart to leap in longing for a return to her youth in the shield-wall. That night at dinner the jarl once again plied the old woman with mead and meat. She acquiesced, agreeing to teach the girl the discipline of recitation and runework. She would be taught the secrets of the shield maidens, spell battle which stirred the blood and drove average men to great achievements. She would indeed become a skirnir.
Disa trained hard. She learned her runes so as to be able to read the works of other skirnir and of skalds. She learned to cast the bones to divine the auguries of the norns and see fate's pattern in the skeins of men's lives. She learned to mimic spirits and whisper her words for the wind to carry. She began to manifest her will, shaping the very air around her into a shield capable of stopping spells. She learned how to corrode the weapons and shields of her opponents. Disa trained to the point her spells flowed from her hand through her skjöldur.
She fought in two shield-walls. The first in defense of her family lands. The second time was on a raid against an orc tribe. Her clan was too tranquil, the lands too settled. There would be few shield-walls to be found at home. She lusted for battle, mead and men. Disa paid proper homage to her father and mother, explaining her need to do more. Her mother gifted her with a winged circlet of silver and copper. Her father gave her a skjöldur with their clan's symbol upon it. The shield, crafted of the blackest darkwood, appeared ancient yet it was pristine; almost as if it had been made but never used. He affixed it to her arm himself, explaining that she must always proudly bear the insignia of her family so all could show their proper respect.
She left with the dawn, her head held high. For five days she traveled west towards the mountains she had only ever heard of in tales. For the first time in her life, she began to dream. She saw strife. Poor thralls trod the trails, disease plainly writ upon their poxmarked faces. They silently wept as they carried their dying children in their arms.
It was another week before she came across the first of them. It was a small boy, left to rot on the side of the trail. Untouched by any animal, the smell of rot seemed a blessing in comparison to the stench of sickness still clinging to his corpse. For two days, she marched down the trail of death. She finally came to the head of the funeral procession. Breath rattled out in labored moans from the broken man's pustule encrusted mouth. It seemed minutes before his eyes could make their way across his eye sockets to finally fall upon her face. His words were a bare murmur and she had to use her magic to hear him. He told her of how death came upon his village and the townsfolk fleeing before it. He begged her to sing a dirge of their passing so they would not be forgotten even though they had not died with swords in their hands and were doomed to a dreary shadowy afterlife.
Disa never spoke. Her eyes kept hold of the man's gaze until it glazed over in death. She continued on, determined to forget all of what she had seen. They were weak and a bad omen for a new beginning.
That night, the dreams came again. She felt the stern gaze of judgement upon her soul. A voice rang out through her mind, singing a terrible song of vengeance for those unjustly killed. It reminded her that death in battle was glorious, but to be robbed of glory through trickery and deceit was unforgivable.
Disa woke with a start. The night was pushed back, as though it could not touch her. She was basking in the light of day. When it finally faded, she could still discern a subtle glow. As she looked around her, her hair fluttered past her face. It was shining with it's own light.
She slept not another wink that night. In the morning, she set off. At the first village she came to, Disa sang to the people a dirge of such sorrow that the villagers wept. She warned of an impending evil with her words. Spending some time with the locals, she asked of all the rumors and goings and comings trying to find some clue of what was happening. Their stories led her on to the next village and thus it was that Disa found herself in the region of Berghof in the far western reaches of Iobaria.