The edge of the spiral staircase he hurtled toward marked a bright line between safety and the abyss beyond. Jorir twisted around in midair, reaching with the… Read more “5.15 – Altered Memory”
Tag: Oaths are serious business
2.18 – A Father’s Honor
“If your heart does not remain with the Weaver and the Wolf, swear again before me as you once did before my father Raen.” A number of… Read more “2.18 – A Father’s Honor”
2.17 – Vision of Home
Stigander caught the sound of silver bells in the wind and steeled himself. The last trial had tried to make him choose between his birthright and his… Read more “2.17 – Vision of Home”
2.16 – Desperate Battle
One down, five to go… Four. Einarr stared through the gap in the circle where his fallen opponent had been and set his jaw. A cry of… Read more “2.16 – Desperate Battle”
2.14 – Heart of a Dwarf
Thane Soggvar turned to the advisor standing behind the throne to his left – a cadaverous shaman Jorir did not recognize. In that same moment, his attention… Read more “2.14 – Heart of a Dwarf”
2.12 – Faithless Hospitality
The tinkling sound of silver bells filled Einarr’s ears. Testing the fidelity of my love for Runa? Nothing simpler… surely that can’t be it, though? Well, no matter. He hefted the sack of treasure slung over his shoulder so the weight rested more comfortably and the coins tinkled again. Walking along the path up towards Kjell Hall, he whistled a jaunty tune. Jorir was only a pace behind him with another sack of treasure, and over this last quest they had filled out the crew of the Hvalaskurdr. His longship Hvalaskurdr. He had a ship. He had a crew. He had brought more gifts than even Jarl Hroaldr could have thought to ask for. If that wasn’t sufficient, even yet lacking a hall of his own, Einarr could rightly accuse the man of faithlessness.
1.28 – Midden Maze
I’m going to regret this, Einarr thought even as he fell. The darkness was nearly complete. Nearly, because the Isinntog about Einarr’s neck gave off a faint white glow.
Einarr’s legs plunged into the moldering kitchen refuse of the jotün and his dwarf. The smell that assailed his nose nearly made him vomit. Putrid meat, rancid fat, and rotting vegetables all mingled together in a slimy slurry that, by some miracle, only came to Einarr’s waist. He covered his nose and mouth with a hand.
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