Brannerz
Recruit
Volundr Foesmasher, the Autobiography!
This is the diary of a Norse warrior who sought fame and fortune on the battlefield.
Entry 1.
It was nearly 3 weeks at sea with no sight of land since i left my homeland, which i had been forced out of by my people, But now the wait is finnaly over. Our small ship carrying slaves destined for a far off land which is inhabited by a mixture of dirrent races has finnaly arrived at the town of Sargoth. The town Sargoth and the surrounding lands are ruled by the Nords.. the long ancestral descendants of the viking people. Pathetic that i should be sold into slavery because i failed in my quest to become a Vikingr. Now i must make my name in a land known as "Calraida" But my luck is not all that bad, but this land certainly is bad...
Upon entering the town the guards were noted of our appearences and instructed not to allow any of the 5 slaves brought into the city to be allowed to leave. As i looked about the town i thought that the people here were desperate indeed, in the alleys were street urchins and in the open streets there were the common poor. This worked to my advantage. a gang of desperates ran towards our small party and one of the guards was killed outright and the other knocked unconscious because of a club to the head. our chains were unbound and we was told to disperse quickly, they gave us each a small amount of money and told us to go to the lionhead inn and stay the night there.
I did no such thing! Pah. No one is going to tell Volundr Foesmasher what to do, instead i roamed the streets late into the night occasionaly looking into a tavern to see what the locals were like. i wasnt very impressed by what i saw. Reminded me too much of home. Home... the land where snow ruled supreme in the harsh winters and when drink and song were abundant by the campfires. The land where i had been forsaken by my family and friends and forced into slavery. The swine. They did not deserve me anyway. But it was in the 7th hour before midday when the sun was still rising that i was attacked in the street. A smallish person, well..smaller than me standing at 6ft 3inches at any rate, ran at me with a sword. He swung rashly towards my leftleg and it was at this point that i knew immidiatly the skill of my attacker. I had been brought up in 1 on 1 combat all my life so i knew what to do. I dropped my left arm down which took my shield with it so that the sword blow clattered into the main body of the shield and bounced off. Then in a refined right swinging motion i feinted to slash upwards across his body, he raised his shield then i quickly changed the direction of my attack and swung for his legs, my sword crunched through bone and muscle and he instantly keeled over. To end his life one quick thrust into the back of his head concluded the matter, it was then that the merchant named Bjorn invited me to his home to ask me about something... i wonder what it could be.. well i shall certainly find out what it is after i have scrubbed myself up and had a meal.
This is the diary of a Norse warrior who sought fame and fortune on the battlefield.
Entry 1.
It was nearly 3 weeks at sea with no sight of land since i left my homeland, which i had been forced out of by my people, But now the wait is finnaly over. Our small ship carrying slaves destined for a far off land which is inhabited by a mixture of dirrent races has finnaly arrived at the town of Sargoth. The town Sargoth and the surrounding lands are ruled by the Nords.. the long ancestral descendants of the viking people. Pathetic that i should be sold into slavery because i failed in my quest to become a Vikingr. Now i must make my name in a land known as "Calraida" But my luck is not all that bad, but this land certainly is bad...
Upon entering the town the guards were noted of our appearences and instructed not to allow any of the 5 slaves brought into the city to be allowed to leave. As i looked about the town i thought that the people here were desperate indeed, in the alleys were street urchins and in the open streets there were the common poor. This worked to my advantage. a gang of desperates ran towards our small party and one of the guards was killed outright and the other knocked unconscious because of a club to the head. our chains were unbound and we was told to disperse quickly, they gave us each a small amount of money and told us to go to the lionhead inn and stay the night there.
I did no such thing! Pah. No one is going to tell Volundr Foesmasher what to do, instead i roamed the streets late into the night occasionaly looking into a tavern to see what the locals were like. i wasnt very impressed by what i saw. Reminded me too much of home. Home... the land where snow ruled supreme in the harsh winters and when drink and song were abundant by the campfires. The land where i had been forsaken by my family and friends and forced into slavery. The swine. They did not deserve me anyway. But it was in the 7th hour before midday when the sun was still rising that i was attacked in the street. A smallish person, well..smaller than me standing at 6ft 3inches at any rate, ran at me with a sword. He swung rashly towards my leftleg and it was at this point that i knew immidiatly the skill of my attacker. I had been brought up in 1 on 1 combat all my life so i knew what to do. I dropped my left arm down which took my shield with it so that the sword blow clattered into the main body of the shield and bounced off. Then in a refined right swinging motion i feinted to slash upwards across his body, he raised his shield then i quickly changed the direction of my attack and swung for his legs, my sword crunched through bone and muscle and he instantly keeled over. To end his life one quick thrust into the back of his head concluded the matter, it was then that the merchant named Bjorn invited me to his home to ask me about something... i wonder what it could be.. well i shall certainly find out what it is after i have scrubbed myself up and had a meal.
