Ardo's Family Found!

I took the serpent to Kassau, laden with my goods and trinkets. I took the Lady Ira with me, for she wanted to buy some fine cloth. We wandered the markets there and I stumbled upon two of the greatest treasures...

The greatest treasure a man can ever have... 

...His family.

There behind the potter's wheel was none other than my sister Maeve!

You can imagine my joy at finding my lost sister, a sister I thought dead - slain by the vile kurii as they raided our village of Sotvann.

She also believed I was dead, slain by the stinking beasts; but I had been knocked senseless and awoke after the evil beasts had killed all. I thought my beloved sister and my only child had been killed and eaten.

All were killed and eaten...

Save Maeve and...

My darling daughter Ana!

Both sail as we speak, they arrive as soon as wind and tide permits.

I am beside myself with joy!

My dear friend and warrior Mamut saved them, but died from his wounds. I know he now sits in Valhalla, above the salt on the Allfather's table, among all the greatest heroes.

Ardo beats his chest and howls praise to Odin and Mamut.

Blood and steel!

My daughter is now a young woman, proud and free, kept so by the love and labour of my sister.

Ardo Acquires Ama

 After the fall of Kassa He wandered, coming to rest at a tavern in the city of Lara on the River Vosk. 

He saw a girl on stage, the look on her face showed she was battered and bruised and scared to death - being made to dance for her life (a normal practice there). 

He saw her handler crack a whip at her - the tip coming within an inch of her face, and the crowd were baying for her blood. 

He felt enraged at the cowardly and brutal way the girl was being treated, and he approached her handler about purchasing her after the show was over.

He acquired her for a pittance and took her onto his chain.

Ardo's Back Story

 I was born in Kasra, the son of a warrior. I was a young Scarlet Lieutenant on an errand as protective escort to an ambassador. When I returned, the city had been sacked and it's inhabitants slain or sold. Miraculously my sister Maeve had survived; she had hidden in a storm drain for four days.

We buried our loved ones and roamed the land with my sister and brave Ama for a long time, searching for sign or story of our lost citizens - all to no avail; each lead ended in a lost trail or was too dangerous and futile to consider pursuing, without an army of warriors to guard my flanks.

We travelled to Turia and I enrolled as a Guard of the Scarlet Order, but the city was then led by fools ruled by their women. I will not bear the frustration of serving under vain and incompetent boys, so we took up our baggage and once again embarked on our travels.

We arrived at the desert city of Tor and made our home there, but for us the city was as empty and barren as the desert it served; so we once again took up our travels in search of adventure and fortune.

We headed north, following the childhood stories of our father's adventures, eventually finding a home in the tiny hamlet of Søtvann, where I became innkeeper, brewer and carpenter. I took a companion Holga and we raised a daughter, Ana.

Søtvann fell prey to the vile kurii and the village was burned, only a handful survived to tell the tale, and these were scattered to the four winds. Sadly, my beautiful Holga succumbed to her wounds and I was once again alone in my travels. I know not what became of my beloved daughter and sister or my slave Ama.

I wandered along the coastline and stumbled upon a secluded village in the shadow of the Hrimgar Mountains called Hamrar, where I was met with a cautious but warm welcome. Enjoying the good natured humour and hospitality of the village, I decided to offer my services as a hunter, skinner and fur trader, having learned that the position was vacant. 

A Lofty Perch

Ardo sat perched in a tall tree, looking for signs of game on the plain beyond the edge of the forest. The brief Torvaldsland summer had arrived and life was blossoming all around him. His nostrils were filled with the astringent scent of pine resin, some of which he picked from the bark of his perch and stowed in his pouch; pine resin had many uses, but Ardo used it mixed with powdered charcoal to make a strong glue with which he mounted arrowheads to the shaft of his hunting arrows. He often gave a few pieces to Aellah the Jarlswoman and Healer, which she used in several of her medical preparations. 

Distant movement registered on his peripheral vision and his head swung quickly to allow him to focus on the source of the movement. Nothing showed, but with the patience of the hunter he kept his eyes on a distant bush. After a while he relaxed and allowed himself to scan a wider area. Movement again and his green eyes pulled focus on a deer which seemed to be limping, injured somehow. He thought about sliding down the tree to track the hapless beast, but in a flash the deer was set upon by a kur! The large bipedal canine moved with alarming speed, burying its huge claws and teeth into the stricken deer. Ardo watched horrified as the kur tore the poor deer apart in a savage feeding frenzy. The deer was being eaten alive!

Ardo took the time now to study the kur; it was a sorry-looking specimen, probably an outcast or a stray, but nonetheless a dangerous and fearsome creature. Ardo was glad he was down wind of it, for even a mangy kur was a dangerous opponent for a man, no matter what his skill-at-arms. Kurii were as smart as humans and had much better hearing and sense of smell, so Ardo stayed perched in his tree until the dreadful kur moved on, dragging the remains of the deer behind it.

It was then the memories of the kur raid on his former village of Søtvann came flooding back to him. The raid had cost the lives of his companion of many years, Holga, and that of a damn fine bond maid Ama. Ardo had been knocked unconscious and he had fallen into a fissure in the rocks, where he lay until he regained consciousness; by which time the raid was over and Søtvann had burned to the ground.

For a moment a surge of intense hatred overcame him; hatred for the vile kurii and all of their kind. This was tempered by the memory of brave Mamut, his friend. Mamut had saved his sister and daughter, at the cost of his own life. Ardo looked to the sky and imagined fearless Mamut, his place above the salt on Odin's table in Valhalla. Ardo's hatred was replaced with a smile of pride as he remembered his brave friend, and that his daughter was now apprentice to his sister Maeve, safe now as a potter in Kassau.

Ardo slid down the trunk of the tree carefully, and then his interest was piqued by a fine tabuk buck, perfectly posed in range of his longbow. 

Ardo knocked an arrow and did what he did best.

The Lady and the Warrior by Keera Cazalet

Alone beside the wind tossed surf,
The lady‘s past just died.,
She carved her sanity in frozen turf,
As her tears of renewal were cried.

Warriors had come, and Warriors had gone,
Kingdoms built, to only shatter,
Just fools by the time it was done,
Yet, somehow, it did not matter.

Her dreams were never swallowed,
And hopes were harbored with care.
It was a hidden secret kept hallowed,
Too precious and fragile to ever share.

Alone within a kingdom of beauty,
From sunrise to rise of glorious moons ,
She honored her longing with duty,
While singing those aching tunes.

The lady nurtured little dreams,
And celebrated the smallest joy.
A smile hid her fraying seams,
Her laugh offered grand decoy.

Then one day a single word,
Created the most amazing song.
To many it might seem absurd,
But this Warrior could do no wrong.

He reached simply for her hand,
Held tight and didn’t let go,
A grip that spanned across the land,
That caused her heart to glow.

Now together they dance,
Beneath Freyja’s  benevolent gaze,
Giddy that they took the chance,
That ended their lonely days.

Together now they walk the shores,
Voices singing true,
“You are mine, I am Yours“…
“I love You”. …..“I love You”

Ardo's Deer Stalk

He silently slid down the trunk of the tree he had been perched in, he felt stiff and uncomfortable from sitting for so long with hardly any movement. His patience had rewarded him with a sighting of a fine stag as it carefully approached an ox bow in the mountain stream to take water. The animal was wary, no doubt the survivor of many life-threatening encounters; so Ardo knew he had to approach with extreme caution.

Ardo had on more than one occasion become the hunted himself, when a canny stag had somehow managed to flip the situation; it was at this time that Ardo discovered the benefits of his simian ancestry. Fortunately, deer are poor climbers!

The approach to the ox bow was along a well-trodden animal track, so the bend in the stream was a favoured watering hole for several species. Ardo made a mental note of this because a favoured watering hole was always a good place to pick up spoor, which often led him to find quarry.

As he approached the watering hole, he made his steps as silent as possible. He could smell the stag now, which was always a good sign that he was down wind of it. Ardo knocked an arrow to his longbow, the gianni gut string taut and hard, the arrow fletched with the rounded flight feathers of a gim, to make his arrows fly straight and silently.

His chance came as the wary beast had its head down taking water. It was not a perfectly lined-up shot, but he knew he would not get a better shot this day. He drew back, held his breath for a count and let the arrow loose. The arrow seemed to hang in the air for an eternity before the report of the arrow striking home reached his ears. The arrow penetrated the stag's rib cage with a loud snap as one or more ribs broke to let the arrow punch itself into the deer's heart. A loud roar and a stiffening of limbs and the magnificent animal fell dead, its muzzle stuck in the mud where it had been watering, its magnificent palmate antlers pitched forward as if it were in a fighting pose.

Ardo closed on the animal and dropped to one knee. He felt for its pulse, but the animal was stone dead. He was glad that the beast did not suffer long, for he was a fine stag in prime rutting condition. It was late enough in the rut for the stag to have sown his genes among a few of the does, so his magnificent line would continue.

Ardo thanked Ullr for guiding his arrow and he petitioned Odin to allow the soul of the stag to be free to roam the forests of the afterlife wild and free, mounting all the does at will. His elation over his successful hunt was as always tinged with sadness at the death of such a fine creature. Needs must though, and the good villagers of Ashom need flesh, hides and fat to survive.

This beast was too big to carry safely, so Ardo set about building a papoose. He worked fast because he needed the remaining light of the day to get to his hunting encampment. Ardo would hoist the stag into a tree, safe from large predators, and make his bed in a lean-to shelter by a fire beneath it. The smoke would mask the scent of the stag, and the fire would keep predators at bay.

Ardo would finish his journey at dawn, dragging the papoose behind him, following the stream to the river and his waiting boat. The river would carry him and his prize downstream with little effort to the fjord and the village he was so proud to call home.

Escape from Tyrstoftir

Part one of a serial of the Refugees of Tyrstoftir

by Skye Hirgardil Sjöström (Skyde Ceawlin)

It had been a long trek from the frozen lands of Tyrstoftir. The land had seemed to simply...ERUPT...without warning, or at least that was what she was thinking.  Some had said that the gods were angry over some perceived slight, but having arrived too late to make that distinction, all she could remember was the sound.  Not just one, but a cacophony of them.  People shrieking in fear, the cracking of the ice as the mountain began to calve, the roar of the waves as they angrily beat at the ice, the howling of the North wind as it swept through, knocking things about.  It was thus that the fires had begun.

A haze had settled over the mountain and it was difficult to tell between ash from the fires and haze from the fog or even snow from the freakish blizzard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.  She could now understand the phrase her barbarian slave had uttered once--"hell has frozen over." She had blindly made her way through the snow, counting her steps and hanging onto the railing of the long bridge that separated her from the other land mass.  The wind whipped at her furiously, nearly drawing her over the edge repeatedly, but she had finally made her way across and then had breathed a sigh of relief when she had heard the welcome voice of her mate shouting out orders over the veritable symphony of screams.  After finding her family, she had retraced her steps and set to packing.  Most of her things had still been aboard the ship, as they had only arrived a scant few days before the cataclysm began. Her companion's fleet of ships was waiting in the harbor and she had hurried to scrounge up packing supplies, finally relying upon her furs and clothing to do so in order to pack everything in a more efficient manner. 

The wind was beating a fierce tattoo against the door and she remembered how difficult it had been to force it open with the wind pushing just as determinedly from the other direction.  After what had seemed like an hour of pushing at the door, it had finally swung back, nearly ripped from its hinges.  She and Nikias had battled to get the remaining trunks down to the docks amidst the buffeting winds and turned back to look up at the land as a loud *CRACK!* rent the air... an avalanche came tumbling down, obliterating everything that lay in its path. As they watched, it crushed their home, burying it beneath the ice, fires erupted along the tree  line and then a second crack was heard and the whole island shifted.....