Randvér Icemarked's page

I'm thinking of his mother as beautiful ice fey of somekind. Perhaps an ice nymph?

Long ago, in winter's heart,
when hunger and darkness beckoned,
set out into the fiercest snows,
a man called Faraldr the Fecund.
Winter may be be beautiful,
but it always takes a toll!

He struggled on in direst need,
despite the cold and travail,
he had fourteen hungry sons to feed,
and could not afford to fail!
Winter may be merciless,
but the strong will still survive.

Then as winter closed upon his heart,
stealing away all his vigor,
through the ever whirling snows,
he spied a terrible and lovely figure.
Winter may be wonderful,
but there always a price to pay.

She came out of the blizzards depths,
beauty so cruel it bought pain,
and as she walked ice form in her steps,
and she sang out this refrain.
Winter may be terrible,
but there always is a way.

Father of starving sons let me intervene,
I shall offer you a perfect deal.
Give me one son for your fourteen,
I'll see they do not miss a meal.
Winter may be hungry,
but those who would live must feed.

And so he lay upon a bed of snow and ice,
and gave to her his vaunted seed,
though he cursed her terrible price.
Thinking of his family he bitterly did concede.
Winter may perilous,
but its not immune to need.

Snows abated swiftly, she faded like a dream.
He found himself beside a great white stag,
red blood upon the snow, and rising from it steam.
Fourteen little lives saved, for one frigid shag!
Winter may be long and dark,
but it the end it to must flee.

Winter passed and spring did come between,
then summer's beautiful blazing days.
Autumn came, gods forgive a man fathering fourteen,
even if he forgot the price he still pays.
Winter may be gone for now,
but its never long away.

As chill returned Faraldr went abroad,
to gather wood to fuel the dwindling fire.
Turning then he saw her, whose price he ignored,
cradling two babes sired by their desire.
Winter may be frigid,
but death is not her goal.

A bargain struck a price you paid,
I can take no more, I have my son,
this one yours, raise him or to the blade,
I have my son now the deed is done.
Winter may be heartless,
but she still reigns supreme.

Faraldr found himself a father to fifteen.
Fourteen healthy hearty boys, strong and warm,
one who waited for the snows recalling what had been.
And to one Winter sang calling with each storm.
Winter may be a nightmare,
but to some it is also a dream.

Winter's son named Randvér, aware of his limitation,
a poor and lonely singer, who for you performs,
songs and sagas to conjure up, a pale imitation,
of stories done, and Winter's majestic forms.
Winter may be bitter,
but who can deny her majesty?

Winter may be beautiful, but she always takes a toll.
Winter may be merciless, but the strong will still survive.
Winter may be frigid, but death is not her goal.
Winter may be terrible, but the great will always thrive.
Winter may be perilous, but its not immune to need.
Winter may be heartless, but she still reigns supreme.
Winter may be hungry, but those who would live must feed.
Winter may be a nightmare, but for some it is also a dream.
Winter may be wonderful, but there's always a price to pay.
Winter may be long and dark, but it the end it to must flee.
Winter may be gone for now, but its never long away.
Winter may be bitter, but who can deny her majesty?

In Whiterook on the banks of the Thundering River, dwelt Faraldr a hard man but strong. To Faraldr came leadership of Whiterook's warrior get, they stood 'gainst raiders and the more wicked foes behind their spell woven wall. And great was Faraldr's pride as he showed his strength to all, and to his bed he took, then wed bashful beauty Heilvé Brightcheek fairest of Whiterook's flowers.

Faraldr proved fruitful, and with scare rest in between, Heilvé had birthed eight sons. Thorgar bleak and bold, Ágeirr quick and stubborn, Almgautr cautious and clever, Hrafn crude and mirthful, Humli guileful and fierce, Jarni simple and loyal, Kali ugly and wise, Magnus surly and shy. Faraldr's sons grew like ivy, owning their father's power and vicious ire. Then broken Heilvé begged reprieve and Faraldr to soothe his ears agreed to fill her but once more with his seed. But such his vigor, and to forever seal his fame, he gave her not one babe but five.

Earning the name Faraldr the Fecund, he named the babes to light his feat, Ein, Tveir, Thrir, Fjorir, and Fimm. Each of these sons was strong, but they fought from tit to cradle, and would grew to be cruel terrors the like Whiterook had never seen.

Exhausted Heilvé called Agithra, the midwife and finally had her administer the herb teas known as Womb Blight. So it seemed that their brood would be capped at fourteen. Life was hard with fourteen sons and Faraldr was forced to spend much of his time hunting to feed his brood.

Then came the longest winter, anyone in Whiterook had ever seen, when the quintuplets were scarcely weaned, and well into spring the snows abided. Carefully rationed stores dwindled and much as Heilvé begged of their neighbors - for Faraldr would not - there was nothing to spare. His sons wailing for the hollow churning in their bellies Faraldr was forced to set out hunting, as much to escape their wailing as in real hope of finding quarry.

He slogged through the swirling snows feeling the cold cut to his bone, and when he thought he must turn back and watch his sons die, or else meet his end in the snows he spied a figure. Beautiful and terrible, she was a haughtily beautiful woman, but alien and gleaming with skin covered in the thinnest sheen of ice. Fey. She offered him a bargain, if he would give her a single son she would save his fourteen. So he laid with her in the snows, and when he awoke the snows were melting away and a great white stag lay dead beside him. Dragging the beast home, and feeding his family, he did his best to forget the bargain.

The next year in the depths of winter he was hunting again, though the day was clear and fresh. A sudden blizzard enveloped him and fear stirred his heart, as the Fey he had come to think of as the Ice Queen came to him again. This time she clutched two pale babes and gave one to him, saying that their bargain had only been for one child and that he might do as he wished with the other. He tried to kill the babe in the snows, but its face was impossibly fair, and so cursing he took it up and bore it home.

Heilvé loved the babe all the more for the fact it had not come from herself, and was relieved to finally hear the tale that had darkened Faraldr's temper for a year. She named him Randvér for her Uncle who had died in the snows and doted on the beautiful babe, causing the five to come to hate him for stealing their mother.

As Randvér grew he stood out amongst his brothers like a diamond amongst river stones. While he shared their power he had none of their brute countenance, and his hair was silken bronze to their bristly flame red straw. The eldest of his brothers loved him well, but the five born together tormented him and as they grew and his older brothers came to travel out with his father Randvér's life became harder.

All of Faraldr's sons shared their father's prowess in battle, but Thorgar grew to resent his father's curt commands. At fourteen Thorgar left setting out for the soft southern lands to find his fortune. He returned three years later, haunted and changed. Before leaving again he gifted Randvér with a book, The 11 Acts of Iomedae knowing his youngest brother's fondness for tales of heroism, and his oft expressed disappointment with the betrayals and evils of the Sagas heroes. Thorgar departed shortly after, and in time wrought his own dark legend as Thorgar the Childeater.

The Acts were a comfort to Randvér as one by one his beloved older brothers left him to the merciless company of the five. They would beat him every day, knowing that so long as the wounds they inflicted were not obvious their father would take no action, and ignoring their mother's pleading. Eventually he began to slip away each day hiding about Whiterook, only to be hunted by the five.

At seven years old he was saved from another brotherly beating by the skald Vragi Ironjaw. The old singer and storyteller carried him to his hut and his eyes gleamed fury as Randvér told the tale of his woes. From then on Randvér fled to Vragi, helping him with his chores even as the skald taught him the sagas and the songs. Randvér proved to have a beautiful voice, but he knew well what his father thought of singers and kept his new talent hidden.

But all too soon the five, hunts thwarted heard his singing and told their father. Faraldr forbade Vragi from teaching his sons and delivered a vicious beating. Shortly after a song emerged about Whiterook's Rutting Bull, that painted Faraldr as an oversexed idiot stumbling from one foolishness to another. Faraldr sought out Vragi for vengeance but found the old man fled. And forever after that the mocking song, which became a great favorite, haunted Faraldr.

Again the prey of his five cruel brothers Randvér then met a girl named Halla. Halla hid from her drunken father and his angry fists, and the two soon became fast friends brought together by their flight. Halla turned into a pretty girl, tall and curvacious yet strong and she and Randvér loved each other dearly. He showed Halla his prized possession The Acts of Iomedae and she became so enthused with the goddess that she swore she would one day take up her call as a holy warrior of the light. Randvér promised he would accompany her and sing of her deeds.

As Randvér reached his tenth spring his father judged him old enough to begin training in the arts of battle with his brothers. But where all of his brothers would also accompany his father out hunting Faraldr forbade Randvér to do so fearing that his inhuman blood would draw queer things to them. Randvér was glad of these times for they enabled him to sing for Heilvé and Halla and recover from the brutal assaults of the five in training.

Last winter the five caught Halla, and took her. Distraught, and believing Randvér would think her tainted by his loathsome brothers she fled out into the snows. Only the next morning did her father declare her absence and only then did Thrir mock Randvér with their foul deed. And in a moment Randvér could truly see the evil in his brother, and he challenged him. Thrir called to the five, but Faraldr heard his call and raged that if they wished to stand as one man he would see they had only one head and one sword arm. He gave Randvér his axe of cold iron and his youngest son fought transformed and smote Thrir severing his arm and leaving him to bleed, running out to into the growing snow storm to seek Halla.

As ever the cold meant little to him, for his wintry heritage protected him, and he struggled onwards against the winds. But he was no hunter or woodsman and could never follow a trail in such snows. But he would not relent and through the night he sought her. Finally in the pale light of dawn he came across her lying in the snow, cold and still. He gathered her to him and tried to give her his own warmth, but she was gone. He carried her home in his arms.

When he returned he found that the five had been banished, and so robbed of his vengeance he collapsed. Though he knew great despair he promised himself that he would one day take up both Halla's vow in her memory, for Iomedae had given him the strength to smite his brother and see true evil he was sure.

But without Halla everything seemed dark and Whiterook a place haunted by painful memories. So he took his leave of a tearful Heilvé, well wishing brothers, and a stern Faraldr who gifted him with his cold iron axes, cautioning him to watch for the Fey who would not easily relinquish one with ties to them. He wore the battered breastplate that had endured so much punishment with him in training, and a warm wolf pelt sewn into a cloak for him by Heilvé and set out into the world.

But when he reached Heldren something called him to stay, perhaps he needed to overcome his grief before he could truly set out to serve Iomedae. So he asked the Master of the Silver Stoat if he might find work for him, as a singer and a hand. After hearing Randvér sing the man gladly agreed, and he has served there since as entertainer, as lugger of barrels, and a watchful eye - and never had there been one better at spotting trouble makers.

Randvér is a caring honest young man, disappointed with the world around him and longing for something more. He sees something greater in the valor and honesty of Iomedae, one who is both a hero and pure, something which cannot be said of The Linnorm Kings. His natural cheer has been subsumed by grief, and he feels that he must transcend himself in order to fulfill Halla's vow, she was better than him so he must be better than himself.

He loves to sing and compose songs of great adventure, but is self conscious about the notion of relaying his own exploits. His good looks and inability to grow a proper beard make him feel less of a man than his Ulfen peers and reminders of both sting. He believes the powers granted to him by Iomedae were truly supposed to be for Halla, and so strives to honor them and preserve them while taking no credit for them.

Currently he feels lost, something he does not understand keeps him in Heldren and he cannot determine whether it is a failing upon his part or Iomedae's will.

Randvér is enduring, well used to both physical and emotional punishment he can shrug both off and carry on. He views his pain as less important than those of others, he is used to such things.

Randvér is loving, quick to see the best traits in people and draw them out. He will empathize with others when he can, but trusts his goddess to tell him when someone is evil, though he knows that evil does not mean unredeemable.

Randvér is self conscious and often doubts his own judgments and devalues himself. He is prone to self deprecation and will often mock himself before others do.

Randvér is sheltered, despite the hardships he endured he was essentially confined to Whiterook for the majority of his life and knows little of the world beyond that does not come from songs or stories. He can be naive and although his heritage protects him from the cold he knows little of the hardships of nature.

In raven feeder's green rampart || by roaring eel's road.
Silver link in steel || became the song silenced by pride.
Beaten brother unbroken || beloved of battle's steely wife.
And with holy heights claimed || honey heart stealer.

Daughter of eleven storied sword || broken on star's sordid points.
Honey heart's vow undone || taken by hearth's bleak herald.
Third star cut uneven || by snow's son singer's wrath.
Debt delivered twice mourned || the drunkard's daring daughter.

Rutting bull's burden || lessened by base beasts.
Pentagon's jagged points scattered || by pale eye plucker's law.
Winter's unwanted left wanting || his world windows veiled in tears,
took up sword sworn swan's vow || and left the scavenger's pale skirts.

Translation

In Whiterook*, by the Thundering river.
Randvér Icemarked's songs were silenced by pride.
Randvér was beloved of Iomedae.
With the 11 Acts of Iomedae he claimed Halla.

Halla was broken by the Randvér's five quintuplet brothers.
Halla's vow undone, taken by winter.
Randvér's brother Thrir was cut uneven by Randvér's wrath.
Randvér mourned Halla.

Randvér's father Faraldr's burden was lessened by his five brothers.
The quintuplets scattered by Whiterook's law.
Randvér left wanting, his eyes veiled in tears.
took up Halla's vow, and left Whiterook.

*The village of Whiterook is surrounded by a wall of magically enhanced vine and birch.