axe time, sword time
shields are shattered
wind time, wolf time
world left scattered.
It was going to grow cold, this winter. It said it in the bones. In the choppy waves that crested the rocks, in the cries of ravens perched in forest groves. Cold was no stranger, this far north, but it was also no friend, and its gnarled hand claimed lives in every passing. The rising tensions in the north helped little. Jarl Asbjorn seemed restless - it had been two years since the last war, and another one was well overdue.
Even here in Fyrrholm, perched at Jarldom's edge, whispers spread. Asbjorn was raising an army. There had been raids on neighboring Frodabork. Fields across the Jarldom lay barren, as if the soil itself was starved for blood. Men kept their weapons wrapped in their foyers. Women kept their hair in tied braids. Children did not laugh as they played, did not scream or shout, stifled by the solemn silence that had settled over the town.
All were waiting.
All were fearing.
On the night when the first snow fell - on the night when the first horns sounded - it was dreaded as much as it was expected. War, though -
War was the least of the cold yet to come.
--
This is an RP set in a fictionalized setting inspired partially by historical Scandinavia and partially by Norse folklore. A deep knowledge of either subject isn't needed in the slightest, and I'd be happy to answer any questions or talk out any character ideas you might have.
shields are shattered
wind time, wolf time
world left scattered.
It was going to grow cold, this winter. It said it in the bones. In the choppy waves that crested the rocks, in the cries of ravens perched in forest groves. Cold was no stranger, this far north, but it was also no friend, and its gnarled hand claimed lives in every passing. The rising tensions in the north helped little. Jarl Asbjorn seemed restless - it had been two years since the last war, and another one was well overdue.
Even here in Fyrrholm, perched at Jarldom's edge, whispers spread. Asbjorn was raising an army. There had been raids on neighboring Frodabork. Fields across the Jarldom lay barren, as if the soil itself was starved for blood. Men kept their weapons wrapped in their foyers. Women kept their hair in tied braids. Children did not laugh as they played, did not scream or shout, stifled by the solemn silence that had settled over the town.
All were waiting.
All were fearing.
On the night when the first snow fell - on the night when the first horns sounded - it was dreaded as much as it was expected. War, though -
War was the least of the cold yet to come.
--
This is an RP set in a fictionalized setting inspired partially by historical Scandinavia and partially by Norse folklore. A deep knowledge of either subject isn't needed in the slightest, and I'd be happy to answer any questions or talk out any character ideas you might have.
