The young boy who led you to Remlaug’s enters the room, “If y..you’ll follow me ma lords and lady.. I’ll bring ya back to the mead hall for tha evening.”
You emerge from Remlaug’s to find the summer sun beginning its descent. The crickets are already starting their nightly chorus, but the air is still warm. As you near the square you find it full of activity. People are beginning to light small fires and breaking out horns for drink. When you arrive at the mead hall you find it bustling with hirdmen and their families. You are immediately let in this time by the guard and ushered into the hall. The tables are now filled with people, drink, and food. Stories are being told and games are being played, laughter and warmth fills the air. The Jarl is seated on his throne watching a man with a small black bear cub preforming tricks. You are taken aback by the sight of this as it is unlike anything you have seen before.
A huge smile spreads across Angie's face. Although she is exhausted, she will spend a couple more hours celebrating and talking with the crowd. She will especially focus on stories about the Wild Heart and try to learn anything she can about the animals that live there and other dangers that were known to exist there before the guardian went missing.
One story in particular catches all of your attention and you find yourselves fixated on the narrator. Unable to turn away you all simply listen to the tale aptly named, “By Blood, By Storm”...
The time had come. On this night of ritual, death would bring salvation, blood would be the wine of the gods and thunder would herald a new dawn. Tonight the folk of Vortland would perform a heathen tradition of gerbanis, a blood gifting to the god Stormi. This particular blood gifting was one of special magnificence. For normally the stormlanders would only hang beasts from the iron rings on the storm pole and ask the gods for a good harvest or a merciful winter. But on this night the villagers of Rimheim would ask for a most mighty favour.
For the jarl of the village lied before his death. His winter boar hunt had taken a bloody turn when the great hog had broken his spear and shattered his bones. The jarl was a great warrior who had defended the village for many years with an unbending strength. He was loved by all his people and none who knew his name could bear the grim thought of his passing. So, the people would beg for help from the gods to save the great jarl. Their offering: Greta, the jarl’s firstborn daughter. Would his mind not be swaying between life and death the jarl would never allow such a thing to pass. For he held his daughter Greta very dear and would not allow any harm to come to her. But Greta too loved her father and would willingly give her life would it only save him. And thus, on this night, she would appease Stormi with her glorious death upon the storm pole.
With a steely expression on her face Greta approached the great storm pole. There all the village had gathered to watch and only the howling wind from the mountains broke the total silence. The Jarl’s daughter stood in a ceremonial dinghy that was being dragged along upon the snow-clad soil by four men from her father’s hird. It was lavishly decorated with gold, iron and bronze. Two storm priests stood waiting for her by the storm pole. Their heads were hung in sorrow, as there was no pleasure or excitement in this sacrifice. As Greta was getting closer to the chains that would hang her aloft cries of protest came from the crowd. But Greta held up her hand and they were swiftly silenced. The storm priests gently removed the great bear pelt that had covered Greta’s naked body and she was thus exposed to the elements. She held herself with grace and in that moment there was none stronger than the Jarl’s daughter in the whole of the Stormlands. The storm priests chained her by the neck and by her hands, then Greta spoke in a stern and loud voice.
“Take heed, and bear witness to my sacrifice, oh Stormi. For on this night, and on all nights to come until the end of times, I give myself unto thee. Take my life and do with it as you will. Lift me up to do battle by your side or cast me into ruin and chaos, it matters little. I only ask of you - oh great Stormi - that you spare the life of another. Let him be free of his pains, of his wounds and of his sorrow. Let him rise like a warrior of old and stand by his people who hold him as one of their own. Let him not be worn down by rugged winter or by blistering wind of fierce battle. Let him break the chains of death and instead bind me to the same shackles. For on this night, and on all night to come until the end of time, I give myself unto thee”.
Greta then looked upon the somber faces of her people one last time. The storm priest approached her and with a trembling hand he drew his sacrificial blade. Not a man, woman or child looked away when he slit her throat and gathered her blood in a wooden bowl. For they respected their ancient traditions and customs, and above all else, the brave sacrifice of Greta the jarl’s daughter. Greta looked out over the sorrowful faces of the crowd as the blood rushed forth from her open throat. She remained standing until the very end, strong and proud. Such is the way of the Stormlands and the world of Trudvang, death and life are sometimes not so different. It can seem cruel, even barbaric. But death is nothing to be feared in the land of sagas. For life carries on in death either within the mountain, by the side of Gave in his kingdom of light, in the great chaos storm, in the stars or in Othwa the kingdom of heroes.
After the story is over Angie looks around at the people around her, "That is a fascinating experiment, but what was the result? Did the Jarl become healthy again? If so, then by how much and how was that quantified and measured? Did Stormi accept the sacrifice in the spirit in which it was intended? Did Stormi provide any explicit feedback?" Angie yawns. "Unless somebody has some answer for me I should probably go to sleep."
Gobbler nudges Angie, "Oi, you should be more respectful to others when they tell the story." He whispers to Angie in a worried tone, "We can sleep a bit later, but I'm sure the gods definitely won't stop after one sacrifice. What if the townspeople want to sacrifice us?"
Angie's eye-lids become so heavy that she can barely keep them open. She seeks out one of the Jarl's guards and asks for directions to her sleeping quarters, then she retires for the night.
The guards laugh at Angie’s request. One of them responds, “Sleep where ya will... but, tha only quarters belong to the Jarl.”
As you look around the feast is starting to die down and those deepest in their cups have taken to sleeping on benches, tables, and the earthen ground.
"So that's how it is in their family." Angie says under her breath while looking around. She shrugs a little and finds a dry, warm corner to fall asleep in.
Each of you finds a comfortable enough place to sleep among the inhabitants of Grim Village within the Jarl’s mead hall. The fire dies down and you all enjoy a longrest after a very long day.
You wake at dawn to the long deep sound of a horn calling to break fast. The sleeping herdsman also rouse and plates of cold meat, dark rye bread, smoked fish, and pouched eggs are brought to the tables. You eat quickly, but savor the rich flavors of the food. When you are finished a guard escorts you outside to some stables where three horses and a hardy looking pony are waiting for you. They are equipped with saddle bags that contain a weeks worth of cured meat, cheese, jerked fish, and a hard bread like substance for each of you. The bags also contain a weeks worth of grain for your mounts.
You set off at a leisurely pace along the northerly dirt track headed out of town. The morning sun beats down on you and makes you feel pleasantly warm. The air carried a slight breeze and the scent of late blooming flowers. All signs point to another warm late summer’s day in the spectacular Stormlands.
DMNote: Wildheart is just over a week long journey from Grim Village on horseback going at a brisk pace. Does anyone want to complete any downtime activities during that timeframe?
Soon after beginning their journey Angie looks up from studying the map. "The Wildheart is a long way off, and our supplies are limited. Perhaps we should find an intermediate location at which to stop and resupply." Angie looks back at the map and reads off one of the names on it, "Yksa," The foreign word comes out strangely, "This place, Yksa, seems to be on the way. Maybe we should head there first?"
Angie yawns after Thokien, "Agreed, it has been a long day. Let's head back to the Jarl's and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning our trek will begin."
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile
Gobber yawns after taking finishing the meal.
I agree with the big one. Sleep sounds perfect after a wonderful meal.
He turns to the Remlaug and bows.
Thank you for that wonderful meal you had provided us. We'll be heading to the beds now.
The young boy who led you to Remlaug’s enters the room, “If y..you’ll follow me ma lords and lady.. I’ll bring ya back to the mead hall for tha evening.”
You emerge from Remlaug’s to find the summer sun beginning its descent. The crickets are already starting their nightly chorus, but the air is still warm. As you near the square you find it full of activity. People are beginning to light small fires and breaking out horns for drink. When you arrive at the mead hall you find it bustling with hirdmen and their families. You are immediately let in this time by the guard and ushered into the hall. The tables are now filled with people, drink, and food. Stories are being told and games are being played, laughter and warmth fills the air. The Jarl is seated on his throne watching a man with a small black bear cub preforming tricks. You are taken aback by the sight of this as it is unlike anything you have seen before.
A huge smile spreads across Angie's face. Although she is exhausted, she will spend a couple more hours celebrating and talking with the crowd. She will especially focus on stories about the Wild Heart and try to learn anything she can about the animals that live there and other dangers that were known to exist there before the guardian went missing.
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile
Sits down and starts drinking and swapping stories.
One story in particular catches all of your attention and you find yourselves fixated on the narrator. Unable to turn away you all simply listen to the tale aptly named, “By Blood, By Storm”...
The time had come. On this night of ritual, death would bring salvation, blood would be the wine of the gods and thunder would herald a new dawn. Tonight the folk of Vortland would perform a heathen tradition of gerbanis, a blood gifting to the god Stormi. This particular blood gifting was one of special magnificence. For normally the stormlanders would only hang beasts from the iron rings on the storm pole and ask the gods for a good harvest or a merciful winter. But on this night the villagers of Rimheim would ask for a most mighty favour.
For the jarl of the village lied before his death. His winter boar hunt had taken a bloody turn when the great hog had broken his spear and shattered his bones. The jarl was a great warrior who had defended the village for many years with an unbending strength. He was loved by all his people and none who knew his name could bear the grim thought of his passing. So, the people would beg for help from the gods to save the great jarl. Their offering: Greta, the jarl’s firstborn daughter. Would his mind not be swaying between life and death the jarl would never allow such a thing to pass. For he held his daughter Greta very dear and would not allow any harm to come to her. But Greta too loved her father and would willingly give her life would it only save him. And thus, on this night, she would appease Stormi with her glorious death upon the storm pole.
With a steely expression on her face Greta approached the great storm pole. There all the village had gathered to watch and only the howling wind from the mountains broke the total silence. The Jarl’s daughter stood in a ceremonial dinghy that was being dragged along upon the snow-clad soil by four men from her father’s hird. It was lavishly decorated with gold, iron and bronze. Two storm priests stood waiting for her by the storm pole. Their heads were hung in sorrow, as there was no pleasure or excitement in this sacrifice. As Greta was getting closer to the chains that would hang her aloft cries of protest came from the crowd. But Greta held up her hand and
they were swiftly silenced. The storm priests gently removed the great bear pelt that had covered Greta’s naked body and she was thus exposed to the elements. She held herself with grace and in that moment there was none stronger than the Jarl’s daughter in the whole of the Stormlands. The storm priests chained her by the neck and by her hands, then Greta spoke in a stern and loud voice.
“Take heed, and bear witness to my sacrifice, oh Stormi. For on this night, and on all nights to come until the end of times, I give myself unto thee. Take my life and do with it as you will. Lift me up to do battle by your side or cast me into ruin and chaos, it matters little. I only ask of you - oh great Stormi - that you spare the life of another. Let him be free of his pains, of his wounds and of his sorrow. Let him rise like a warrior of old and stand by his people who hold him as one of their own. Let him not be worn down by rugged winter or by blistering wind of fierce battle. Let him break the chains of death and instead bind me to the same shackles. For on this night, and on all night to come until the end of time, I give myself unto thee”.
Greta then looked upon the somber faces of her people one last time. The storm priest approached her and with a trembling hand he drew his sacrificial blade. Not a man, woman or child looked away when he slit her throat and gathered her blood in a wooden bowl. For they respected their ancient traditions and customs, and above all else, the brave sacrifice of Greta the jarl’s daughter. Greta looked out over the sorrowful faces of the crowd as the blood rushed forth from her open throat. She remained standing until the very end, strong and proud.
Such is the way of the Stormlands and the world of Trudvang, death and life are sometimes not so different. It can seem cruel, even barbaric. But death is nothing to be feared in the land of sagas. For life carries on in death either within the mountain, by the side of Gave in his kingdom of light, in the great chaos storm, in the stars or in Othwa the kingdom of heroes.
Half to himself "I wasn't wrong."
After the story is over Angie looks around at the people around her, "That is a fascinating experiment, but what was the result? Did the Jarl become healthy again? If so, then by how much and how was that quantified and measured? Did Stormi accept the sacrifice in the spirit in which it was intended? Did Stormi provide any explicit feedback?" Angie yawns. "Unless somebody has some answer for me I should probably go to sleep."
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile
Gobbler nudges Angie, "Oi, you should be more respectful to others when they tell the story." He whispers to Angie in a worried tone, "We can sleep a bit later, but I'm sure the gods definitely won't stop after one sacrifice. What if the townspeople want to sacrifice us?"
The Jarl’s hirdmen seem to be more interested in their food and drink than Angie’s questions.
Angie's eye-lids become so heavy that she can barely keep them open. She seeks out one of the Jarl's guards and asks for directions to her sleeping quarters, then she retires for the night.
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile
Stands, yawns and stretches, then also asks for information on and heads to his quarters.
The guards laugh at Angie’s request. One of them responds, “Sleep where ya will... but, tha only quarters belong to the Jarl.”
As you look around the feast is starting to die down and those deepest in their cups have taken to sleeping on benches, tables, and the earthen ground.
"So that's how it is in their family." Angie says under her breath while looking around. She shrugs a little and finds a dry, warm corner to fall asleep in.
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile
Shrugs, sits back at his place and lays his head down on the table.
Each of you finds a comfortable enough place to sleep among the inhabitants of Grim Village within the Jarl’s mead hall. The fire dies down and you all enjoy a long rest after a very long day.
You wake at dawn to the long deep sound of a horn calling to break fast. The sleeping herdsman also rouse and plates of cold meat, dark rye bread, smoked fish, and pouched eggs are brought to the tables. You eat quickly, but savor the rich flavors of the food. When you are finished a guard escorts you outside to some stables where three horses and a hardy looking pony are waiting for you. They are equipped with saddle bags that contain a weeks worth of cured meat, cheese, jerked fish, and a hard bread like substance for each of you. The bags also contain a weeks worth of grain for your mounts.
You set off at a leisurely pace along the northerly dirt track headed out of town. The morning sun beats down on you and makes you feel pleasantly warm. The air carried a slight breeze and the scent of late blooming flowers. All signs point to another warm late summer’s day in the spectacular Stormlands.
"I guess we should ride towards the forest?"
DM Note: Wildheart is just over a week long journey from Grim Village on horseback going at a brisk pace. Does anyone want to complete any downtime activities during that timeframe?
Angie would like to set out her trap at night to try to catch game, as well as being generally inquisitive and on the lookout for cool new things.
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile
Soon after beginning their journey Angie looks up from studying the map. "The Wildheart is a long way off, and our supplies are limited. Perhaps we should find an intermediate location at which to stop and resupply." Angie looks back at the map and reads off one of the names on it, "Yksa," The foreign word comes out strangely, "This place, Yksa, seems to be on the way. Maybe we should head there first?"
Shake - Fenris Worldsbane's Tales From the Yawning Portal: Sunless Citidal
Randy Doe - Water Deep: Dragon Heist
My Thingiverse Profile