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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 16, 2014 06:22AM
House of Ghar – The Lands of Old


Writers –
CharlotteCarrendar as Valkrik Ghar
ImayarukOdinGorya as Istal

Istal :

Istal couldn’t help but smirk while she watched Valkrik hesitantly drink from her flask. “So how do you like the phoenix bloodwine? Its one of my father’s brews and one of the few things that make food in even the absolute worse conditions safe to eat.” she couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he started to check her out once again obviously curious about her supplies. As he sat down and told her to eat she drew the pouch from under her shirt and held it out to see. It was a simple looking leather satchel marked only by the Blind Eye like her shirt was. “Another one of my father’s creations.” she stated matter-of-factly as she reached in and pulled out a book marked in gold lettering of a language she knew f Valkrik couldn’t read before stashing it back in the pouch. Smirking to herself while waiting for Valkrik to reply she brought the flask back to her mouth and started to drain it. After it should have been clearly empty she handed it back with a noticible slushing sound


Valkrik :

The question from Istal on whether the Viking liked the phoenix blood wine, had him almost bring it back up in disgust. Fancy telling him after he had drank it, what he had just consumed. It took a great amount of patience, not to stand up and rip her throat apart, thinking she had tried to trick him with the wine. Her explanation that it was her father’s own brew now had him curious. A phoenix’s blood was rare, very rare. How on earth did her father come across it, let alone make a wine from it? He exhaled loudly, balling his fingers into fists, and placing them squarely on his knees. Last think he needed was to lose his cool in front of his men. Surely they were already watching the pair. When on a long voyage, the simplest things amuse, so when Valkrik was locked in conversation, no matter how small the retorts, it was quite the show.

Again she reached beneath her garments, and this time extracted a satchel that bore the same symbol as before. The blind eye. Istal took out a small book ,and appeared to be teasing the Viking with it, before placing it back in the satchel quickly. Another one of her father’s creations. Here we go with the father again.

“What…is your father exactly?’

Valkrik wasn’t mucking around anymore. He wanted to know the connection between her father and the blind eye. He felt he had a right to know.


Istal :

Istal was having the time of her life teasing the Viking. Most of his reactions to the magical items her father had given her was priceless. He clearly wasn’t comfortable around magic and Istal couldn’t help but laugh in her head at every time she made him squirm.

“What…is your father exactly?’, those words made Istal tense. “He is for the lack of a better term, a very old mage, a traveler, and a madman. Most of the people that hear of him know him as the traveler, though a small handful know him as Odin. If he is THE Odin I couldn’t tell you but it is his name.” She said sounding very pained, and troubled. After she had answered Valkrik’s question she slowly brought her knees up to her chin and tucked her head in, to hide the look of guilt and sorrow on her face.


Valkrik :

Valkrik sat silently, listening to Istal explain that her father was Odin. Now, she didn’t clarify if he was in fact the same Odin that the Vikings and norse held up on high. She described her father as many things. From a very old mage, to a mad man. Odin…was not a mad man at all. Not in Valkrik’s mind. Rising slowly, he stared down at the girl. He was no longer convinced about her stories, and watching her demeanor change from that of joy, to sudden sadness, had him wonder if she was all there. He no longer wanted to play in her games, and turned his back on her. He headed back up to the helmsman and drummer. Each murmured quietly that they had overheard the conversation…that everyone did, and all were convinced she was some sort of witch. Question was….what would happen when they reached port?

With the night upon them, there was a change in the shifts, and many were to sleep, so they were fresh to row through the day if the winds were no longer in their favour.

Valkrik took his place at the back of the boat, to help guide it homeward, every so often he glanced over at Istal, before looking back out to sea.


Istal :

Istal sat in her huddled position as Valkrik left. She heard the men talking about her even if they didn’t think she could. ‘Father was do you bring pain when I talk about you.’ she thought to herself. As darkness set she noticed Valkrik take the helm. with her face covered she spoke very softly and let a small amount of power, “Valkrik don’t turn your back on a wolf or you may stare down a dragon.” The power that flowed into her words was about the same as when she helped create some wind, though no where near as subtle. The words were ment to be heard by their target, Valkrik.

She slowly rised and went to the side of the ship and began to to sing a sad longing song that had no words. In truth she was a mess after talking about her father, and couldn’t keep power from her song. The sad melody mixed with the light of the moon causing an image to form next to her reflection. If anyone besides Istal saw it they would have noticed, It was a fairly old man with one blind eye holding an unusual spear like weapon. He wore a sadistic grin that would scare most things alive. Along with his weapon and grin the next thing to be noticed was a near artic blue green suit of armor with a raven sitting on his shoulder opposite of Istal.


Valkrik :

Darkness brings with it sleep for many a man. Only a few stayed awake to steer the ship homeward, one being Valkrik. To know Valkrik, you would understand that he does in fact suffer from insomnia. Why you might ask, would someone of such mental strength and drive be unable to close his eyes at night and sleep? The reason is in what he sees when he is sleeping. They say that our dreams are a way of our sub conscious letting us know of the spirit world, of the future, the past, regrets and passions. However, many messages are unable to be explained easily. There was however, a recurring dream. One…that haunted him when he had reached of age in his homeland. After a ritual, that had evoked spirits to come and pay their respects….one stayed behind. Like a dark ghoul, only it took the form of a creature that was revered by the Vikings. The very totem of the Ghar. A large black wolf.

Night after night, the young man would wander to the lake, and when he went to look at his reflection, it was the Wolf that stared back at him. Was it Fenrir? Why did it happen, every night? Valkrik remembers always waking up, bathed in sweat and with a rapid heart beat. Almost like it would explode from his chest. One woman whom lived in the port town and was seen to by many as very wise, was the Angel of Death. Similar to a shaman, or a female version. She helped conduct the rituals and sacrifices, so she was respected, but also feared.

One day, as Valkrik was returning from his sister’s hut, the Angel of Death stood in his path. She stared up at him with eyes of pure white, raising a bag that contained bones and rocks, and she shook them violently before him; crying out;

“I have SEEN HIM!…You know who I speak of …Son of Honrick. You cannot escape it…for he is your destiny! You are a danger to all that you love!”

From that moment on…Valkrik closed off his emotions, and became the man who Istal watched at the helm. A true lone wolf…who was guarding over the very people, he would one day feed upon.

Istal’s warning that he should never turn his back on a wolf had him stare at her…with the same hollowed look in his eyes that he showed to most. The next thing she did however, was to rise and sing a song, that would cause a grown man to weep, like he had just lost his love. The song however failed to move the Viking. The reason being….he had just sighted land.

They were home…


Istal :

Istal broke into tears as her song had finished and saw the image of her father in the water. She had dropped to her knees with her face in her hands. She was starting to wonder what brought her to that battle ground really as she had out right lied to Valkrik. She sat there for a few minutes completely motionless other then the small jerks of her chest each time she sobbed.‘Oh come on Father wasn’t that bad. sure he was tough on us growing up but no worse that what we had seen of before father.’ A small voice nagged at the back of her head. ‘Your wrong you don’t truly know what that past means to us Brigid, what he did to us would kill most, in fact you are the only reason it didn’t do the same to us.’ Istal thought back to the voice she called Brigid. ‘Oh you two stop your fighting or did you forget we are about to reach a Viking settlement. And if you can’t handle that Istal then I will take over.’ a third voice had threaten. It was with that threat that Istal and looked up and sure enough she saw shore. Though through tear filled eyes she really couldn’t tell how far away it was but still in sight.




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Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 17, 2014 02:54AM
Stargorn Bluff – Lands of Old


High atop the cliff face on a timber landing, the bullhorn sounded as the first spotters saw the coloured sails of Valkrik’s vessel. They had returned after many months from home, and this would bring man of the town’s people out of their houses and food halls, to see the fathers, sons, brothers and lover come home at long last. The village became alive with calls and shouts of men, and young children emerged from their beds to see this sight. How many that had gone off under the leadership of the Chieftan’s son would be returning home. The women worried, it was only natural. There had been times when only a handful made it back, so this ship’s return had significant meaning.

In the Chieftan’s house, the sound of the horn finally reached the ears of a dozing Chieftan, who had had one too many ales the night before. He spluttered and coughed, rising up out of his furred great chair. Honrick believed that this was his son’s true first test under the watchful eyes of some of the Chieftan’s own men. Men that had served him for many a year. The reports were sure to be interesting, and any bounty they returned with, would fill the family coffers.

“Sarras…the ship is back!” The Chieftan roared, calling for his wife, who was sleeping in the next room with their youngest child; their new born son Zacura. The baby was born while their son was at sea, and the matriarch was sleeping much now, as the birth had taken a great deal out of her. Rising from her bed, she smiled at the news. Her eldest son, Valkrik had returned, and not a moment too soon. Sarras scooped up the young infant, who cried a little in protest with the fussing, before being bound tightly and placed in a fur cross shoulder holder, so he would fall asleep again, as she headed out to greet her son.

Honrick had already left the house, with two large guardians accompanying him. Sarras would have to hurry to catch up to her husband, as the small streets swelled with people, to make their way down to the waters and the boat dock. Hopefully Eyyrs was awake and heard the horns, to come see her brother’s return. As they passed her small house, Sarras urged one of the men to knock on Eyyrs door, to wake her up, just in case.

The Dock


Already the ship had been brought alongside the dock, with large ropes being used to tie it into place. The docks themselves were alive with people, many waiting anxiously to see their loved ones returned. The cries of joy from the women of the Vikings as they disembarked, with their bounty and weapons greeted their families with embraces and much noise. Valkrik was in no hurry to get off the ship, making sure that the slaves were taken off in one group, ready to be handed over to the Chieftan’s men for trading later.

Walking past Istal, Valkrik said to her;

“You have a debt to pay. We have reached Stargorn bluff; home to my people.” The Viking stood looking at her, waiting for her to stand, or speak. She assured him that she could pay them for saving her from the enemy lands, and he took her word as bond. While waiting for her to answer, the loud booming voice of Valkrik’s father reached his ears.

“Son! Welcome home!”

Valkrik would have to deal with Istal later, for right now, the Chieftan wanted his son’s attention, and he didn’t like to be kept waiting. Valkrik strode across the ship and down the gang plank, till he came to stand before hit father, who appeared to have greyed a little in his son’s absence. The Chieftan reached forward and gripped the Viking’s shoulders, and giving them a good shake.

“You have honoued me. Bringing back my ship and crew. You must have many tales to tell, Valkrik. We shall dine when you have off loaded. Yes. Oh..and your mother has a surprise for you. HA!” He turned away, heading back up the docks, only for his mother Sarras to appear, with the small bundle that was wrapped in fur, hanging off her shoulders.

“Son..” Sarra’s said softly, as she stepped closer to the hulking Viking. “You have a brother. We named him Zacura. He is so like you.” With large hands, Valkrik pulled back on the fur, to see the tiny infant that Sarras held and he gave one of his rarest of smiles. “Strong.” Valkrik said, approving of this. His steel blue eyes moving from the infant up to his mother’s, who he could tell were tired. He knew before he left she had been ill, and bed ridden. This was why.

Sarras tilted her head slightly, and reached up to stroke her eldest son’s right cheek. “How I have missed you, and prayed to Odin of your return to us.” Her voice feather soft, just like that of the skin on her hands. Sarras was a flower in amongst the hard wilderness that was Stargorn Bluff. Valkrik placed his hand on her shoulder gently, and then said only to her;

“He heard your prayers, Mother, and gave me courage and wisdom to return to you.” This is what Valkrik truly believed. He then looked about for Eyyrs, hoping she would come down to meet him, before he had to meet with his father and council.


Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 17, 2014 03:33PM
Fjords of Greyfell


Below the mountains of Warfarren and seperating Stargorn from the rest of the world, the Fjords of Greyfell were the home of the Norwegian Fjord Horse. They were tended to by the village’s Quartermaster and only the best of the stock were given to those warriors deserving of one.


But it was what was going on in the Quartermaster’s hut that draws us here this day…

The fires in the pits were raging high, but as of yet there was no one to tend them. One would wonder where the man who tends them happened to be.

The answer to this lies upon a bed of hay and furs situated against the wall in the corner. Two naked bodies, pressed together a dance as old as time. The firelight shone off bronzed muscles, rock solid from the years of hard work. Calloused hands, dedicated to their work stroked across the delicate flesh beneath. A breathy moan, a heated sigh. Dark hair and blonde hair pressed against each other.

“Yesssssssssssss…” a deep male voice rumbled as the movements became rough. Nails scored deep marks down his back and he tossed his head up with a hiss of delight. His eyes, as blue as the ocean, met those of the woman who lay beneath him, as he grabbed her leg in a fierce grip and pulled it up over her shoulder. Her cry of surprise at this caused him to smirk, his teeth gleaming in the darkness of their bed of sin.

He was rough, but she was rougher, flipping their bodies until she sat astride him. He laughed in delight, his large hands framing her waist as he pulled himself up to suckle at her breats as they bounced before him. She rode him to completion, their mingled cries scattering a few of the horses that had been grazing near the hut.


He fell back with a groan of pleasure, the delightful beauty still sitting upon him. He could go another round with her…once he got his breath back, but it seemed she had other ideas. She removed herself from him, going to the water trough to clean herself. It would do her no good to return home, smelling of him. She didn’t need to hear another one of her mother’s lectures on the proper decorum of a woman. They were not proper women for Odin’s sake! Of all the women in the village, she was the only one not treated like common shattel. Those who tried, found themselves cut off at the knees by her sword.

Eyyrs of Ghar was as proud as any warrior male…and she had a few heads under her furs to prove it.

She moved past the Quartermaster to grab up her garments and pulled them back onto her body, all while he watched. He frowned as he saw her dressing and sprang to his feet, walking behind her to pull her against his body, ready to go again. She elbowed him away from her and glared.

“Come on, love. One more.”

“Get those devilish thoughts out of your head, Soren Thorfinn. I have no need of them.” Eyyrs stated.

“When are you going to settle and become my wife?”

“Never and I’ll thank you to never speak of it again. I will be no man’s shattel.” she snapped. It seemed as if every time she and Soren were together, he put more and more pressure on her to become his woman. Not if she had anything to say about it.

“But I love you.” he added. Quick as lightning, the tip of her sword was at his throat and there was the look of murder in her eyes. He gulped.


“You love the thought of having me. That is not love. If you wish to keep your head on your shoulders you will never speak to me again.” she glared. Sheathing her sword, she stalked from his hut, whistling for her horse, Vor. As she was settling herself onto the back, the sound of the horns chimed in the distance and her eyes lit up with delight.

“Valkrik!” she whispered the name of her brother, gone for many months. He was now home. Kicking the sides of her horse, she charged back to the village at breakneck speeds, dodging rocks and trees with an agility that surprised most men when they saw her.


Horse and rider pushed their way through the crowds gathered on the village streets, mothers yanking their children out of her path when they saw her coming. She spotted the boats and urged Vor to go faster as she spotted the top of her father’s head upon the docks. He was laughing at something before he stepped to the side…and then she saw him.

“VALKRIK!” she cried, jumping off her horse at the dock’s edge and running toward her brother, a grin upon her face.

Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 18, 2014 10:03PM
Fjords of Greyfell: Clifts

-High on the clift just a little distance away from the village below, a lone wolf could be spotted. It was very large in size much larger than any natural wolf should be and on its back it actually had a rider. The unknown rider watched the village cloaked in a white fur pelt that seem to blend in with the large horse sized wolf’s pelt. The rider carried a flag marked with a tribal symbol that best resembled an axe. The clan of Vollan, not exactly a human clan, or whatever the people were below in the village, but a clan of Ice wolves, that hunted and claimed territory in several area’s both in and surrounding the lands of the people in the village.


Because of this, the Vollan pack made an effort to be friends with this village, as a species ruled by primal laws, they saw their claim on territory like a dog saw claim in his masters house, this avoided needless bloodshed. But of course the Vollan wolf pack didn’t ever tell the village chieftain’s that part of their hunting grounds was a part of their territory, instead they allowed there non-sentient wolves to hunt for them.

Three more wolves joined the first, one carried with them a large light blue flag, a color they used to announce their approach was friendly, they were only curious as to why the bullhorn was blown. They were depending on some trade with the village, as even the den had use of slaves and other items that couldn’t be made here.

The other dragged behind it a sled loaded down heavily with furs of all kinds from across the Lands of Old and some in the Outer lands, a small circuit conducted by the Ice Wolf clans that were friendly with one another.

The rider that sat upon the wolf carrying the tribes flag pulled away the furred hood of her cloak to reveal a woman with short very curly snow white hair. She had eyes the color of ice a whitish blue and her expression matched the cool depths. She had matching scars running down her cheeks just under those eyes and one broken one that crossed over her nose a little before reappearing on the corner of her mouth. A gift to her given by a pack male she had thrown out when she first rose to alpha status. Strapped to her back was a heavy looking broad sword, its handle rather bland its purpose purely for fighting.
She did however carry a rather pretty and decorative dagger strapped to her thigh that was peeking out from beneath her cloak.

“Lady Natsiya, why do we wait if they are friends,” spoke the rider upon the sled wolf.

A young male with dark amber eyes and long braided brown hair. This was his first outing like this, and if he screwed up, his last.

“Because, we wait for a signal to continue, we might be friends, but that doesn’t give us the right to just waltz into their village like we own the place,” she said to him glaring at him that he should even ask.

He made a face, “but don’t we claim territory here,” he asked.

She growled at him in warning, “we do, and If you open your mouth about it while we are done there, I will gut you like a fish in front of the whole pack, as far as there concerned…we are nothing more than common beasts, like a dog owning his masters house, it keeps are clan alive and thriving, and them unaware if things turn sour” she said.

The young man swallowed hard and became quiet. The wolves they rode on whined wanting to get moving again, but wouldn’t without command from the alpha riding.

Natsiya looked away from her pack males and down at the village below again, she withdrew a whistle from her belt and placed it between her lips and blew on it as hard as she could, making sure there sentries knew that the pack Vollan was watching-


Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 18, 2014 10:46PM
The Docks


Valkrik’s eyes shifted through the sea of people, and then he heard his name being cried out, by a girl; no a woman who jumped off a horse and was running down the docks to see him. Could this be his Eyyrs, his little sister. She had grown up in the months he had been away, and looked as radiant as ever.

As she came into range, he took four bold steps, before picking her up by her waist and spinning her around. He laughed as he set her down, only to grip the edges of her hair and pull her head to his, where he pressed their foreheads together as a show of affection. It was a little rougher than you would expect from a man like Valkrik, but this was no ordinary girl, this was his dear sister.

“Look at you, Eyyrs. Grown tall through the spring. You even have breasts. HA!”

Oh he was going to pay for that no doubt, teasing her about her appearance. He would not dare allow another man to say such to his young sister, but he thought he could get away with it. He took out a small pouch, and then handed it to his sister. It contained a beautiful necklace that had a jeweled stone set in the metal disc. Sapphire in colour and dazzling, he smiled a toothy grin, hoping she liked it. Many women in the tribe would be gouging out eyes for such a trinket, especially to be given by the Chief’s own son.

“Don’t say…I never bring you nothing home.”

He watched and waited for her to put it on.

One of the towers that was near the dock blasted a horn to sound that a foreign whistle sound had been heard. They had company, probably traders from the mountains. Today was going to be a busy one for the Vikings of Stargorn Bluff.


Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 19, 2014 09:19AM
The Docks

Valkrik swept her into his arms and spun her around, very pleased to see her as she was to see him. She laughed with delight as she hugged him warmly. She had missed him these many months.

He set her upon her feet and tugged playfully at her blonde locks before he pressed their heads together in a show of love. Any other woman would have winced at how hard he knocked their heads together but Eyyrs had grown up with him at their father’s knee. This was norm for them.

“Look at you, Eyyrs. Grown tall through the spring. You even have breasts. HA!” he grinned devilishly, resorting to teasing her as he usually did. She stepped back, hands on her hips.

“Of course I have breasts, you fool! Am I woman or am I man?” she snorted. Some would say she acted more man then woman, but she did have womanly wants and needs afterall. Valkrik seemed to sense that and handed her a small pouch. “What’s this?” she wondered, pulling the ties and dumping the contents into her hand. Her eyes widened in surprise and a small amount of feminine pleasure upon seeing the piece.


“Brother…it’s exquisite!” she whispered, tossing the pouch away in favor of slipping the jeweled pendant over her head as quickly as possible. She pulled her hair away from the cord so as not to tangle it and adjusted it until it sat between her breasts over the top of her gown. “Thank you.” she smiled, looking up into his eyes.

“Don’t say…I never bring you nothing home.” he stated. She nodded and moved to turn away, for all intent and purposes, to lead her brother to their parents home. But it seemed Eyyrs had other ideas. She spun around, an angry scowl on her face. Her arm flew in arc from behind her body, her hand clenched into a fist aiming straight for Valkrik’s nose. If she connected, he would fall to the docks, holding his hand to his now-bloodied nose with an angry Valkyrie standing over him.


“That’s for leaving me behind!” she would snap in anger at him before turning on her heel and stomping away, just as the horns sounded in the distance once more

Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 19, 2014 09:50AM
The Docks


That was the sound of his sister’s fist connecting with Valkrik’s nose; sending him tumbling to the deck bleeding. That damned girl just decked him right in front of his crew, and snorted about being left behind. What the devil got up her skirts to even say such a thing? As she marched off up the dock, Valkrik was quick to push himself to standing, before wiping away the trickle of blood that was running free from his nose. Some of his crew laughed at the antics of the duo, but Valkrik was not about to stand for being made a fool of in front of his crew.

The Viking broke into a run, chasing off after Eyyrs, only to catch her up and lift her up onto his shoulders in a manouvre that would be akin to a caveman getting a woman. Sure, she might kick, slap and bite as he carried her along, but he was about to teach her a good lesson about the place of a woman in their society. He continued to carry her up till reaching her own small house and kicked in the door, marching her in before throwing her down on the furs in a heap.


“YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHY YA DON’T GO TO WAR!” He roared at her, shaking a fist, with blood shot eyes. He normally had a sense of humor, but after the last few months, it was safe to say that he had a lot of pent up aggression. Valkrik had to reign himself in….and he snorted at her. “You need a good fuck!” Truth was…he did. And with that, he stormed out of her house, before things got….complicated.

Further up the path, one of the village lovelies that had her eye on Valkrik for some time came out of her house, and gasped seeing him with a bloody nose. She tried to urge him into her house to “treat him”, but he just growled, and kept on his way up to see his Father and the council. For some reason, the idea of just laying with any woman at this moment, was right out of his mind.


Re: The Lands of Old (RP)
January 19, 2014 10:09AM
Path to the Village

Eyyrs left her brother bleeding and humiliated before his men, a satisfied but angry smile upon her lips.

“How dare he go off and leave me behind. Have we not fought battles together? Am I not good enough to take on a journey simply because I’m a woman? Bastard!” she snarled to herself. She was unaware he was charging behind her until she heard the rapid footsteps.

She turned only to be caught up in his arms once more and tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Screeching in rage, she kicked her legs, pounded at his back and yanked his plaited hair, demanding to be released. He kicked in the door of her home and tossed her down upon her furs in a heap.

“YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHY YA DON’T GO TO WAR!” His roar of rage shook dust from the rafters as he shook his fist at her. She jumped to her feet, grabbing up her shield leaning against the wall and brandishing it at him.

“Oh so I’m not good enough to fight at my brother’s side anymore? Is that what you’re telling me?” she snapped back.

“You need a good fuck!” he snarled, an unreadable look in his eyes just before he turned and left her. Angry beyond words, she followed him out, just as he passed one of the village women who offered to treat his wounds.

“I’VE HAD SEVERAL TODAY FOR YOUR INFORMATION! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR BLOODY CONCERN!” she shouted after him, throwing her shield like a frisbee, aiming for the back of his head. She did not stay to see the results of her temperamental outburst, storming back into her hut and slamming the door closed.