Jǫrmúnharr's Challenge

[SimplySeo 6999]

 

 

 

 

 

[!]

In the Aevosi Far-North, you stumble across a runestone of carved basalt, in its carved creases is daubed an ichorous paint, blood mixed with powdered red stone to glow faintly in the night. The following is open for anyone to find…

 

ᛚᛖᚾᚷᛁ ᚺᛖᚠᛁ ᛖᚲ ᛚᛁᚠᚨᛏ ᚢᚾᛞᛁᚱ ᛚᚨᚾᛞᛁ ᚨᚲ ᛊᛏᛖᛁᚾᛁ,

ᚢᚾᛞᛁᚱ ᛁᛊᛁ ᚨᚲ ᛖᛁᚲᛁ, ᛁ ᛃᚨᚱᚾᚹᛁᛞᚢᛗ ᚺᚢᛚᛚᚢᛗ.

ᛗᚤᚱᚲᛏ ᛖᚱ ᛗᛁᛏᛏ ᛊᚨᛖᛏᛁ, ᛞᛃᚢᛈᛏ ᛖᚱ ᛗᛁᚾᚾ ᛞᚱᚨᚢᛗᚱ,

ᚺᚢᚾᛞᚱᚨᛞ ᚺᛖᛁᛗᚨ ᚺᛖᚠᛁ ᚺᛖᛁᛗᚷᛖᚾᛏ, ᚺᚢᚾᛞᚱᚨᛞ ᛟᚲ ᛖᛁᛏ.
Long have I lingered ‘neath land and stone,

Under ice and oak, iron-bound halls.

Dark is my dwelling, deep is my dream,

A hundred realms have I wandered, a hundred and one.

ᚠᚢᚨᚱᚱ ᛖᛗ ᛖᚲ ᛁ ᚠᛟᛚᚲᚹᛁᚷᛊᛚᚨᚨᚨᛞ,

ᚺᚨᚱᛞᚺᚢᚷᚨᚦᚱ ᛁ ᚺᛁᛚᛞᚨᚱᛖᛚᛖᛁᚲ.

ᚺᚢᚾᛞᚱᚨᛞ ᛟᚱᚱᛟᛊᛊᛏᚢᚱ, ᚺᚢᚾᛞᚱᚨᛞ ᛞᚨᚢᛞᚨ,

ᚺᛖᛏᛃᚢᚱ ᚺᛖᚠᛁ ᚺᛟᚷᚷᚹᛁᛏ, ᛁᛚᛚᛗᛖᚾᚾᛁ ᚠᛖᛚᛚᛏ,

ᛚᚨᛏᛁᛏ ᚦᚨ ᛁ ᛚᚨᚢᚲᚨ, ᛁ ᛚᛟᚷᚨ ᚹᚨᛈᚾᚨ,

ᚦᚨᚱ ᛊᛖᛗ ᛞᛟᛗᚷᛟᛞ ᛞᚱᛖᛈᚨ ᚨᚢᚷᚢᛗ ᚷᚱᛁᛗᛗᛚᛁᚷᚨ.
Skilled am I in slaughter’s song,

Fell-handed in fray, fierce in the fight.

A hundred battles, a hundred deaths,

Heroes I’ve hewn, villains I’ve vanquished,

Felled them in frost-fields, and flames of war,

Where doom-gods gaze with dreadful eyes.

 

ᛖᚾ ᚱᚢᛞᚷᚱᚤᚱ ᚨ ᚱᚢᚾᛊᛖᚲᛁ,

ᚱᛟᚾᛞ ᚱᛟᛏᚾᚨ, ᛒᚱᛃᚾᛃᚨ ᛒᛚᛁᚲ ᚠᛟᛚᚾᚨᚱ.

ᚷᛟᛞ ᚺᛖᚠᛁ ᛖᚲ ᚷᚱᚨᛗᛊᛖᛏᛏ, ᚷᛟᚠᚢᚷᛚᛖᛁᚲᚱ ᛗᛁᚾᛞᛖᛃᚱ,

ᚦᚹᛁ ᚨᛏ ᛟᛚᛚ ᛊᛏᚱᛁᛞ ᛖᚱᚢ ᛟᚱᛚᚢᚷᛁᛊᛚᚨᚢᛊ.
Yet rust creeps on rune-blade keen,

Shield-roots rot, steel-scales dull.

The gods I have grieved, my glory wanes,

For honor is hollow in heedless war.

 

ᛖᚠ ᚦᚢ ᚠᛁᚾᚾ ᛖᚲ ᛊᛏᛖᛁᚾ, ᚠᚨᚱᛗᚨᛞᚱ ᚠᛃᚨᚱᚱᛁ,

ᚹᛁᛏᚢ ᚨᛏ ᛖᚲ ᛊᚢᛖᚲᛁ ᛊᛏᚱᛁᛞᛊᛗᛖᚾᚾ ᛊᛏᛖᚱᚲᚨ,

ᚠᛃᚨᚾᛞᛗᛖᚾᚾ ᚠᚱᚨᛖᚲᚾᛁᚱ, ᚠᚱᚨᛗᚷᛖᚾᚾᚨ ᛊᚲᛖᚢᚱᛖ,

ᚦᛖᛁᚱᚱᚨ ᛒᚱᚨᚷᛞ ᛒᚱᛃᛟᛏᚨ ᛗᛖᚷᛁ ᛒᚱᚤᚾᛃᚢ ᛗᛁᚾᚨ.

ᛖᛞᚨ ᛖᚠ ᚦᚢ ᛖᚲᚲᛁ ᚲᚨᚾᛏ ᛖᛚᛃᚢᚾ ᛟᚲ ᚹᚨᛈᚾ,

ᛚᚨᛖᚱ ᚦᚢ ᛗᛁᚾᚨ ᛚᛖᛁᛞ, ᛚᚨᛖᚱ ᚦᚢ ᚹᚨᛈᚾᚨᛚᛁᛊᛏ,

ᚨᛏ ᚹᚨᚱᚷᛁ ᚹᛖᚱᛞᛁ ᛖᛁ ᚹᛖᛁᚲᚱ ᛟᚲ ᛊᛏᛁᛚᛚᛏᚱ.
If thou findest this stone, O far-faring soul,

Know that I seek the worthy in war,

Foes full-fierce, fell-handed, bold,

Whose blade may break me with battle-earned right.

Or, if thou lack’st the lore of war,

Learn ye my ways, wield strength in strife,

That no whelping brood be weak and tamed.

 

ᚾᛟ ᚷᚢᛁᛚᛖ ᛖᚲ ᛊᛖᛚ, ᚾᛟ ᛊᚢᛁᚾᛁᛊᚲᚱᚨᛞ,

ᛖᛁᚾᚢᚾᚷᛁᛊ ᛁ ᛟᚱᚱᚢᛊᛏᚢ ᚹᛖᚱᛞᚱ ᛒᛚᛟᛞᛒᚱᛁᛊᛖ ᚷᛃᚨᛚᛞᛁᛏ.

ᛊᚹᛟ ᛗᛖᚱ ᚺᚢᚹᛊᚢ ᛊᚨᛖᛗᛞᛁᚾ ᛚᛁᚹᛖᚱ ᛁ ᛊᛖᚷᚷᛃᚨ ᚺᛃᛟᚱᛏᛁ,

ᛒᚱᛁᚾᚷ ᛗᛖᚱ ᛏᛟᚱᛏᛁᛗᛁᚾᚷ, ᛒᚱᛁᚾᚷ ᛗᛖᚱ ᛏᛁᚢᚨᚱᚷᚨᚾᚷ,

ᛒᚱᛁᚾᚷ ᛗᛖᚱ ᚱᛖᛞᚨᚾ ᚹᛁᚷᛒᚱᚨᚾᛞ ᛟᚲ ᚱᛖᚢᛁᛞᛁᛏ ᛊᛏᚨᛚ
No guile I grant, nor grim deceit,

Only in battle is blood-price paid.

Show me what honor in men now dwells,

Bring me ruin, bring me wrath,

Bring me red slaughter and ringing steel!

 

ᛃᚢᚱᛗᚢᚾᚺᚨᚱᚱ ᚱᛖᛁᛋᛏ ᚦᛖᛋᛋᚨᚱ ᚱᚢᚾᚨᚱ
Jǫrmúnharr carved these runes.

 

Spoiler

Reach out to me in-game or over discord to interact.

 

[milksoda 2884]

[!] As rain fell down, the bloodied woman rose. Leaving the other upon the ground.

A clap of hands and a prayer is uttered in silence before two digits dip into her wounds then.

To cast writing upon that headstone, leaving a message for the fellow poet beneath.

 

"I speak not mine deeds,

Yet now you surely know them,

My sword tells the tale."
 

 

"Good fight."

- Atsuko 

 

 

The Drunken Samurai picked up her drinking gourd thusly,

and trekked back to the Southern Trees she called home.