AstriaS 3683 Share Posted November 7, 2022 The Dark Pilgrimage From far in the ice-ruled north of Almaris rumors swirl southward on cold winds and curious whispers. Landing on the northern coasts was seen a lone, foreign vessel - a longship of Svarlandic make. The remains of slaughtered men adorned the mast, and above flew crimson standards emblazoned with coiling serpents. From the ship and onto the frozen, rocky shore stepped a small band of warriors, at the head of which stood a being clad in dark, rune covered armor with charms and talismans wrought of iron and bone adorning their figure. A small band they were, yet their silhouettes were no less imposing against the stark white of the northern ice fields as they began their trek south and east. The leader, a Kjörnarling, stood at the fore as the party made way through the blistering, skin-shearing winds. Behind, they dragged along a captive, bound by the wrists and led on a chain. Through the frozen hills and valleys they wound and wandered, only one purpose in mind; pilgrimage. In time, the party reached what remained of a decades old shrine - a great serpent carved from wood and adorned with runes, the wear of time having rendered the sculpture nigh unrecognizable. Here, the captive met an unceremonious end, another sacrifice to join those of the distant past. Next did the pilgrims take their malice-laden path to a long-abandoned stronghold. Once, that holding was known as Vesturtjörnbúðir - the seat of Zhartýrr Rhykasson’s invasion of the Almarian northlands some few decades passed. Here, the party offered no sacrifice, but reverently collected what remained of that long-passed conflict; baubles of iron and bone along with weapons aged beyond use. It was naught of great use, but rather of great symbolism. With care, the items were stowed away in steel-banded chests, to be kept in great reverence. The pilgrimage continued then to the west, where the remains of a cathedral were found. There, crumbling walls gave way to snowdrifts that piled in the once great hall, and the original shrines the structure once held were decrepit beyond recognition. On those walls that remained, images of the Svarlandic gods were carved and painted. The barren, frozen remains of descendant sacrifices remained scattered before them. After paying due reverence before the dark icons, the party continued onward. Finally, the pilgrimage reached its terminus; the ruins of Varhelm. Scaling the ruined walls, the party wound through the frosted-over ruins until finally they came to a stop before the great, desiccated remains of the long-dead ashwood tree. That site of the Svarling Horde’s greatest victory yet lacked the mark of the Dark Gods, but no longer would it be so. With axes and chisels and hammers, the pilgrims set to work, and carved into the paving stones, the rubble, and the trunk of the dead tree itself the iconography and teachings of their gods. To conclude, an unlucky member of the party - one unfortunate to have been a southlander by birth, born of a slave, rather than a trueborn Svarlander - was slain in sacrifice to anoint the site in blood. Thus, the pilgrimage was complete, and the mission at hand could begin. In the days that followed, an odd missive began to circulate in the North… TO THOSE WITH EYES TO SEE AND EARS TO LISTEN, As the prophecies of Zhartýrr the Chosen foretold, the age of blood has awoken the hunger of the Gods. We few bring not the blades of an army, as once the Chosen did, but rather the dictum of the Gods in Nárgrindheim. Thus do we issue this warning. Remember well the Chosen's campaign; the slaughters of Vikne, Scourge of the Norðmenn; the cruelty of Gorm the Flayer. The Gods shall gorge on the blood of the fallen, as once they did before. Know the folly of standing against them. Those who toil in futility will find only ash and ruin. The Serpent's venom shall course in the veins. The Raven's guile shall blind the eyes. The Wolf's hunger shall gnaw at the mind. Sanngriðr of Brimnesskogar Spoiler Just a fun post to kick off a new Svarling character of mine. Hope you liked it. Also, 10 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Norgeth 1111 Share Posted November 7, 2022 Aglazeki Archzealot Xob Wobson tore one of those missives from a wall, reading it through, then stating simply, with pride, zeal and fanaticism "Teh Lord ov Teh Felten Cap's devotees stand stalwart ahgainst darkness... GLOREH TOH AGLAZEK!" That gnomish spiritual leader then began to sharpen the blades of his "SACRAFICEINATOR MK3". 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hyperdron 290 Share Posted November 7, 2022 Old words and old names find their way to an old raven, hunched beside a crackling campfire. The figure's crowdrake mask inclines to face the sky - remembering, reminiscing - and behind it cracks a single smirk. "Velkomnir aftur, félagar." Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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