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The Svarling's letter to the King of Norland


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The following letter is sent by messenger to the beleaguered city of Varhelm, to be delivered directly into the hands of King Vane Freysson and his council.

 

This letter is written in the common tongue of Almaris by the servants of Great Jarl Zharrtýr Rykhässon so you might comprehend, and take heed of its contents. By will of the Dark Gods of Svarland and all the Gods of the South may this letter reach you or your servants, so you might reply posthaste. 

 

For over ten years now the warriors of the Svarlandic Great Army have bought ruin to these shores, sending hundreds to the depths of Nárgrindheim, to where all warriors of Svarland will go at the end of days. We honor our dead, and even now a number of the living are envious of their glory. Nevertheless, those who yet still live have earned great accolades in battle against your folk, and I now reward my warriors with the fruits of their bloodletting. It is your folk as well to whom I give recognition and praise, for a weaker people would have already surrendered themselves before me.

 

Your revered elders are dead, the one Halvar Edvardsson slain honorably by my hand, and your wisewoman passed beyond the veil, your allies are disorganized, and many now concern themselves with matters relating to the Dragon of the South, you are at a disadvantage, and you tire of endless war, while me, my people flourish from it, for a worthy death in battle is sought tirelessly, not avoided. Because of this, I pose you now with an offer.

 

I seek to reward my warriors for their valor, and so I demand this of you. A Svarlgeld in exchange for a cessation in the fighting, until such a time where I shall come to subjugate these lands. My warriors who now dominate the lands north of Varhelm shall retreat to that land which we have seized and consolidated, the warcamp of Vesturtjörnbúðir, and the former lands of the Skanarri tribes. Likewise the crowned helm of Halvar Edvardsson, now in my possession, shall be returned to you. In exchange, two hundred and fifty six gold bars shall be delivered into my possession, along with twenty five kegs of mead, and one hundred and twenty six pounds of meat and fish, as well as a hostage to serve in my court for the duration of the ceasefire, which shall last five years, unless extended through subsequent payments.

 

You shall be given two years to gather the payment, during which time my warriors will make no attack against you. I also bid you extend this offer to the Snow Elfen and Haneslandic Kings.

 

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Spoiler

I've been very busy lately, and because of that there's been some disorganization on my side of things. I'm gonna be very busy this week and somewhat the next, so I decided that instead of going radio-silence IRPly, I'd actually make a lull in the fighting make sense.

 

November is gonna be a big month, and I wanna take this time to streamline stuff so the Svarling encounters are fun for both the protagonists, and the antagonists, and better than ever. Hope y'all have been having fun so far, I've got some plans I'm very excited to share with y'all once they're no longer in the works.

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As she watched the couriers bear the Jarl's letter forth to Varhelm, Vikne Kjeldsdóttir found a small smile forming on her lips. Pleased with the progress she and her underlings had made, she was now quite curious what would come of this Svarlgeld. Yet, there was no time for wasting of such idleness, and she promptly cracked the whip in her hand over the heads of a group of captured thralls before reminding them, "The stones will not carve themselves!"

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Aedan would look over the missive, his expression indecipherable behind the white porcelain of his mask. Many thoughts went through his head; many emotions. How much of a coward does this man think Vane is? Nevertheless, he found himself unsure of his comrades in purpose, and he'd lift his eyes to the occupied mountains on the horizon - Watching. Waiting.

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"Hmph, it is a trick. The Svarlings wish to see how desperate we are for peace, then take advantage to throw themselves at us. It is a tactic the Skanarri used when I was a child, and no doubt the Svarlings are not above such tactics either. There can be no peace with the Svarlings, so long as any Norlander is left standing." 

 

Ragnvald released a hefty sigh after his brief monologue, and began his journey to the Hearth Temple so he could find some peace in this time of great strife.

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Alric reads the missive, a bemused expression upon his face, he'd look at Ragnvald and say with a laugh.

 

"I am glad they can write in the Common Script. Though it would benefit him most to properly understand how a comma functions before he sends letters to Princes and Kings."

 

He'd then point to one particular portion of the letter and state,

 

"Mayhaps we are doing them a favor; giving their troops deaths in-battle seems to be their goal so I see no reason to halt now."

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Gorm The Flayer’s abnormally large serrated smile widened as he watched the messenger go. Finally, he would be able to partake in one of his favorite past times, hosting gladiatorial Blood Games. Surprisingly, he had found not just food and labor from the thralls captured from Haense, but strength to compete aswell.

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Vane crumples the missive in his hand, snarling in anger as he slams it on the table "They want a svarlgeld!" Vane howls out, "I'll give them damned svarlgeld alright!" he says tossing the paper violently to the side as he stomps out of the room. "Gather my horse, call the men!" he begins barking orders to the guard outside.

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