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BLOOD AND HONOR


sneakybandit
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     A Norlandic longship slowly eases into a port in one of the many small trading villages across Nyrheim. The proud red and black sail is tied down and secured as the crew goes about preparations, stowing chainmail and weapons and instead taking out crates of legally obtained trade goods to sell to eager merchants.

 

     At the prow of the longship sits an aging Ruric, his once coal-black hair now the color of steel and his former sapphire eyes now clouded yet vigilant. As the crew goes about their business Halstein remains on the longship, his fearsome nord-axe resting across his lap as he sits silently considering his life.

 

     More than anything Halstein looks back with regret, regret for allowing his clan to forget their way, regret for neglecting his family, and regret allowing the once-proud Kingdom of Norland to slide into dishonor. At this last thought, a crewman returns from the local tavern bearing news from their fatherland, his cousin Ragenvald had perished and another moot was called. Yet again the moot was to be held in secret, the once-proud sons and daughters of Norland hide behind their walls proclaiming their king in a cave this would not stand for the elder ruric.

 

     Halstein commands his crew to return to his longship the ‘Faðirssverd’ while he quickly drafts a letter to be sent ahead of his vessel. Quickly the remaining trade goods were sold and the red and black sails unfurled as the longship left port.

 

    To my kin of the Rurikid, In the first moots our ancestors, the greatest kings of Norland, would call all our kin to assemble before the great ashwood trees of our cities and loudly proclaim to their people why they not any other should be king. And yet the traditions of our ancestors lie forgotten and ignored as yet again you call a moot in secret and illegitimately attempt to usurp my chieftaincy without an Eiriksson Chiefsmoot.

 

This cannot stand.

 

I grew up on a small frozen farm in the middle of nowhere, not in a shiny palace with 'halls of mirrors' as my Edvardsson cousins may have. I am not a 'prince', all I have are hauberk, axe, and a steady longship, I am by no means an ambitious man.

 

But I cannot allow our ancient traditions to go dishonored and so I Halstein Eiriksson, Chieftan of Clan Eiriksson and blood of the herald do hereby announce my claim to the Ashwood throne as is my right.

 

Iron from Ice.

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