Northlander

[Vakur]

"Better weight than wisdom, a traveller cannot carry. An axe is good too." - Old Ruathen saying.

Sigvard trudged into the city of Baldur’s Gate, his wages from the last season burning a hole in his pocket. It wasn’t exactly a fortune, but it was enough to buy him a decent battleaxe and a new suit of mail, plus some left over for potions. The first thing he noticed was the spring. At least, he assumed it was a spring. Water flowed elegantly from the paved ground and danced around a statue of a woman. He stared at it for a good few minutes; a fountain, he heard somebody call it. He had no idea how it was made, but he thought it was very clever.

While he was buying gear, the merchant mentioned something about a job. Sigvard agreed to fetch some supplies from a town called Beregost, which lay to the south. He may as well start somewhere. It was just before dawn, and the weather was miserable. Rain spat from the sky in great globules and made the ground slick and muddy. At the crossroads, he ran into a pale-faced man dressed in fine armour. The man asked him if he was lost, and Sigvard felt awkward at how obviously foreign he was. He explained his task to the man, who was called Valiant, and the man said he was heading in that direction and offered to accompany him.

They went back into the city – apparently it was quicker and safer to make part of the journey by sea. Valiant met a woman he knew by the docks. Sigvard couldn’t remember her name afterwards, but he thought she was very beautiful. There were beautiful women back in Ruathym, of course, but their beauty was different to this. Theirs was the wild beauty of the glaciers, the tundra, and the ocean. This woman was purer somehow; noble, he thought. It made him feel intensely uncomfortable. The pair discussed things he had no knowledge of, and he struggled to follow the conversation. Eventually he realised that they were knights in the service of the Maimed God. He had heard of knights of course – tales of their valour had reached even the distant halls of his homeland, and they were considered worthy adversaries. He had seen a few companies ride by on his travels along the Trade Way, their armour shining in the sun and brightly coloured pennants flapping in the wind.

They were assailed by wild beasts and a group of goblins on the road to Beregost, after disembarking the ferry. Sigvard had thought Valiant looked unwell, sickly even, but he fought like a demon. These knights would be handy people indeed to have at your back. Valiant stopped to heal a passing warrior. Sigvard wasn’t sure why, he didn’t think they knew each other. He supposed it was just what knights do. Beregost itself was a good town. Ample farmland stretched out around it, and Sigvard felt like he had space to breathe, unlike the city. If they had land like this back in Ruathym, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps he would have never left, and would instead be tending his farm, living a peaceful life, with a pretty wife and some children. He banished these thoughts quickly. You’ve got to be realistic, after all.

He conducted his business and said farewell to Valiant, and spent the rest of the day exploring the town. Over the next ten-day he performed a few odd jobs around Baldur’s Gate, interacting a little with the inhabitants, but he was wary of strangers. While hunting wolves for a farmer he was set upon by a pair of bandits. They fell to his axe in short order – they were more like armed beggars than real warriors. He followed their tracks to their lair and slew some more of them. They had stolen goods from a big trading company in the city, and Sigvard returned these. Combined with the bounty from his wolf pelts, he had made a fair bit of coin quite quickly. He spent this on a finely wrought suit of mail, imbued with magic for extra protection. What was left over he spent on mead.

It had been a good week, all things considered, and he felt his skills as a warrior coming back to him. It was an uncertain path ahead, but he felt that he had landed on his feet. He had been in several fights now, and managed to keep it together. Yet there was always the Beast, whispering to him behind his eyes, trying to get free. It was an uncertain path ahead.

[Vakur]

"One man's tale is but half a tale." - Grettir's Saga

A roar sounded in the night, and the large, hulking mass of a bear charged out of the gloom. It was stupid to travel alone at night, Sigvard thought as his axe came to hand. He threw himself out of the way just in time, narrowly avoiding the swipe of the bear’s meaty paw. He slashed at its front quarters as he came up, and was rewarded with a howl of pain. It took a step back as if re-evaluating its prey. Sigvard inched forward cautiously, his axe held out in front of him. It came at him again, this time snapping at his arm with its bone-crunching jaws. His bracers protected him from the worst of it, but one fang found a gap in his armour and he grunted with pain as it pierced his skin. He dug his axe into the bear’s side, and for a moment the two combatants were frozen in a bloody embrace. The bear tried to drag him down under its weight, but Sigvard was strong, and used the leverage of his height to throw the beast off him.

He was preparing to strike again when he felt a wave of agony spread through his shoulder. He looked down and saw the point of a spear poking through his mail. He heard a vicious laugh behind him. A bandit had crept up on him while he was occupied with the bear. Why the two would work together, he could only guess, but he supposed they must have a comfortable arrangement – the one scavenging the kills of the other. He let out a manic giggle as he imagined them plotting.

“You get the meat, I get the money, deal?”

Something hard crunched into the side of his face and he fell to his knees. His vision swam, and he heard shouting. It sounded very far away. Another bandit, this one with a sling, stood on a nearby hilltop, and readied to let fly with another stone. Sigvard felt the spear strike his back again, and an icy numbness spread from the pit of his stomach and into his limbs. The bear reared up on its hind legs and growled, readying for the killing blow.

The Beast raised its head, and smiled a twisted, blood-curdling smile. It smelled the blood around it, and rejoiced at its freedom. Something was tapping it in the back. A little thing, and of no importance, but it would be dealt with soon enough. It jumped up to its feet and roared. Something was in its hand – something heavy, and cold. Something familiar. The Beast lifted its axe and plunged it into the bear’s head. It bit deep, and the bear let out a strangled moan as its bulk collapsed lifelessly to the earth. The Beast wrenched the axe free and spun to face another opponent. This one was small - pathetic eyes stared back in fear and surprise. As carelessly as swatting a fly, it cut the small thing down. Something hit the Beast in the head. The Beast laughed – a murderous, chilling sound. There were more things to kill. It charged the next victim and lopped its head from its shoulders. The head of the thing rolled down the hill, fixed with a startled expression. The Beast could hear shouts in the night, and it broke into a run. It crashed through the trees and undergrowth, bringing swift death to any it could find. Eventually it came upon a face that was not afraid. A face carved from stone. The Beast stared at it, and felt itself slipping away. It railed and screamed, furious at being caged once more. There was still more to be done; so much more blood to spill.

It was nearly dawn when Sigvard came to his senses. He convulsed violently and fell to his knees, coughing blood onto the dewy grass. The statue of Silvanus stared passively down at him, as if reserving judgement. Pain coursed through his body, and he realised that he had lost a lot of blood. He patched himself up as best he could, and hobbled the few miles to the Friendly Arm Inn, grateful that he didn’t run into anybody on the road. He received healing at the temple, and made his way to the tavern, where he sat nursing a drink. His head was still thumping, and he found he had little thirst for alcohol. But more than anything he was overcome with the fear. The fear of what he had done and of what he might do next. The Beast was sleeping for now, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before it surfaced again.

[Vakur]

"Bare is his back who has no brother." - Grettir's Saga

Mainlanders were crazy, Sigvard concluded. They came in all shapes and sizes – more races than he could imagine living so close together and, for the most part, getting along. In Ruathym there were Dwarves, or Dvergur, as his people called them (he had learned that this was similar to the Common word Duergar, which meant a special type of deep Dwarf, thought by most to be wicked). It was said that the Dwarves were the first race in Ruathym, and his people had taken much from their culture. It was very rare to see them above ground these days, however. There were also the Hamfriggan – the shape-strong. They were shape-shifters, both respected and feared. Some of them lived openly in Ruathen society, attaining positions of high social status, while others inhabited the wild places, and practiced dark rites in the name of the Beast Lord.

He knew of Elves (Alfar) and Drow (Dock-Alfar), but he had never seen any of the former until coming to the Sword Coast. He had heard of Halflings as well, and was beginning to appreciate their quick minds and adventurous spirit. He had not even been aware that Gnomes existed, and he tended to find them confusing. There were also the Orc-kin – folk of mixed Human and Orcish blood – who wandered freely in the towns and cities. That had taken some getting used to, and he still got an uneasy feeling in his stomach whenever one passed by. Still, there were stranger beings who inhabited this land. Men and women with odd features he could not place, the Gods only know what creatures they were descended from. Thankfully, these seemed few and far between.

And there was magic everywhere. People wielded magic as one might wield a broom, and Sigvard felt that a day did not pass in which he did not see a spell being cast, or some beast being summoned. Spell-casters were not common in Ruathym. Priests of Tempus were welcomed for their blessings and healing arts, but the general rule with mages was that they were to be trusted about us far as you could throw them (even if you could throw them pretty far). There were the rune-casters, who fashioned clever devices and wards, and they tended to find employment in the hall of a clan Chief, protecting their hoard from thieves and trespassers. There were the seers as well – those who could read the stars and the entrails, and had knowledge of curses. They were left alone generally, unless a Chief needed a foretelling before setting off for war. Craftsmen who could imbue weapons and armour with magic were tolerated, for obvious reasons. Then there were the skalds - the storytellers and musicians that wandered from town to town, sometimes taking up residence in one hall or other. They were more than this though, for it was the skalds who travelled most, passing on messages and recounting deeds. In fact, without skalds Ruathen society would not work at all, it seemed to Sigvard. It was widely believed that they had knowledge of magic, but they were more likely to be seen dressed in mail and wielding a sword than casting spells, and this made people trust them more.

There was a lot about this land that was strange to Sigvard, but also a lot that made sense. He was beginning to see that no matter how different people seemed, if you scratched the surface they were all made of the same stuff (sometimes literally). Whatever clothes you choose to dress it in, strength is strength, and it is the strong that have the final say.


Author's Note:
I haven't found that much information regarding Ruathym, apart from a basic history and some psuedo-Norse cultural elements. I'm mainly trying to flesh the place out in my head for RP purposes, and most of what's written is based on what I've read. If any DMs feel this isn't lore-friendly then PM me and I'll edit it.