Lords of the North • Chapter 01

## Ice & Blood

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### Eastern Reaches*(13th of Maer, 4E 776)*

In the early hours before noon, the warband finds themselves trekking through snow and light rain towards the road leading south to Kazak Dôl. They reach the road a few hours ahead of the slave caravan they are trying to ambush, and swiftly set about making preparations for a surprise assault.

Kalahan and Torfin set up two separate miniature landslides with boulders and trees, to block off the front and rear of the caravan. Gera goes off to scout ahead, making sure the caravan doesn't surprise *them*. Arianne, Rylan, Vanya, and Boryenka take up positions along the road, settling in to wait and making their own personal preparations.

An hour or so later, Gera returns, informing them that the caravan was close. Waiting in their various hideouts, the warband makes ready their weapons, and when the armoured caravan pulls into position they spring the trap. Taking the dwarves of Baradôr completely by surprise, they manage to deal quite some damage before the guards can mount a defence. Even then, through shrewd tactics and sheer ferocity, they pin down the dwarves and cut all of them down save for one, which they take as prisoner.

Turning next to the carts carrying the prisoners and would-be slaves, they set about breaking open the iron doors of the cages and freeing the occupants. Kalahan reunites with Deremr Valgfsson, his adoptive uncle, and Brunnhilde Marasdottir, Deremr's wife. The former seems to have taken a bit of a beating, but is happy to see him. The latter berates him for never returning or checking in during the ten years he was gone, but is evidently also happy he is back. The reunion is short for the time being, with Kalahan and Deremr resolving to talk more when they made camp that night.

Moving quickly in fear of dwarven reinforcements, the group quickly sets off northward, leaving the scene of the battle behind. They make good time, and cover their landward tracks as best they can, but by the early evening they begin to notice a storm chasing them, moving against the wind. Stopping to mount a defence, the warband is attacked moments later by a squadron of Baradein Thunderers, fierce dwarves wielding hammers that impact like thunderbolts, mounted atop hippogriffs.

The battle is short, but difficult, and though the Thunderers are defeated, the warband finds themselves bruised and bloodied. Hoping to escape further attention, they hurry north to catch up with the rest of their group, who have taken shelter in a nearby cave. Mercifully, no other dangers emerge, and the warband is able to rest and recover in the shelter of the cave. They interrogate their prisoner, who gives them little information they didn't know, and then kill him.

That night, while on watch, Kalahan and Deremr (who claims to be unable to sleep) have a private talk about Kalahan's reasons for coming back north, and for having left in the first place.

"*I was not surprised when you left. Heart and home can never fit together if heart is hungry for more than home can give. Brunnhilde never understood that. I always knew you were destined for great things, and you did as well. So, it was fated. Nothing either of us could do to change it.*"
 ― Deremr Valgfsson

Kalahan expresses some uncertainty about what to do next, about his position at the head of his warband and his struggles with being looked up to as a leader.

"*When you left our village, Kalahan, you were boy. Now, you are man. Many things have changed. As boy, you only think of yourself. You have destiny, you must follow it. Things are simple. But now, things are less simple. You have people to care for, people that look to you for guidance. I know you do not enjoy this, I did not as well when I was your age. Ah, but that is not for us to decide. Some men are born to lead, Kalahan. Chosen. To deny that is to deny will of gods. When you were born, I knew you would be one such man. Fate is as fate wills.*"
 ― Deremr Valgfsson

At the end of their talk, Deremr tells Kalahan about an oracle further north past the village, who could maybe shed some light on his journey and what to do next. Eager for answers, Kalahan thanks him and resolves to visit the oracle as soon as he had seen his people back home.

### Eastern Reaches*(14th of Maer, 4E 776)*

The next day's travel passes without incident. Clouds still gather in the sky above, but there is no rain and snowfall, only the chill of a mountain breeze sweeping in from the south-east. There is no sign of pursuit, and the warband begins to relax slightly in the wake of the past day's ordeal.

Some time after noon, a subgroup of the former prisoners break off from the main group, returning to their own village, which is nearby. They thank Kalahan and the warband for rescuing them, and he in return asks them to consider the possibility of banding their tribe with his own, to ensure their safety in numbers. The leader of the smaller group promises to bring it up with his own elders.

Eventually, the sky still lit in the perpetual twilight that qualifies as summer sunset in the north, the warband makes camp sheltered beneath a small rocky outcrop in the middle of the open tundra. The night, though cold, passes uneventfully, though it begins to snow gently an hour or so past midnight.

### Eastern Reaches*(15th of Maer, 4E 776)*

By the next morning, the snowfall shows no sign of stopping. The group is all experienced with such conditions, and make good time heading north, but are inevitable slowed down by the worsening conditions. By the evening, the snowfall has strengthened into a blizzard, howling winds tearing away at the earth and piling thick snow on the entire landscape.

Desperate for shelter, the group makes for a cluster of towering boulders, remnants of some ancient land formation. They take cover from the wind between the rocks, and bed down for the night to wait out the storm. Boryenka sets up some additional windbreakers from tarp and packed snow, which help the situation and allow them to light a couple of fires to keep them warm.

Not sleeping much yet again, Deremr takes watch along with pairs from the warband. On their second watch, some hours into the gloomy night, with the blizzard still raging outside, there is a screech in the dark. Loud and piercing, answered by others in quick unison. Deremr immediately stiffens at the sound, eyes wide in fear.

"*I know that sound. Blyat, I should have known... Wake your companions. Now. They already know we are here.*"
 ― Deremr Valgfsson

Scrambling to wake the rest of the warband, Kalahan turns towards the camp just in time to see Arianne's Lantern of Tracking, tuned to undead, begin to glow with amethyst light.

"*The dead come with the storm.*"
 ― Deremr Valgfsson

The attack comes quickly. Fast-moving undead creatures swarm the camp within seconds, and the warband hastens to mount a desperate defence. Unlike other undead they have faced elsewhere, these creatures are vicious, strong, and fast. Flames of molten orange burn in their frostbitten eye sockets, and with each one cut down the ice and fire explodes outward in a chaotic burst. In the fighting, some of the rescued village folk fall to the rusted blades of the undead, but the warband manages to defeat the assault before it can overwhelm them.

With the sounds of battle falling quiet for a few more moments, they set about preparing for renewed attacks: digging a trench across the front of the cave and lighting fires to burn the bodies and ward off the howling winds. While some of them try to rest, the others keep a wary watch on the surroundings, dreading the sound of more assailants, knowing they may not survive another onslaught of the same magnitude.

### Eastern Reaches*(16th of Maer, 4E 776)*

First light comes a few tense hours later, the survivors of the night huddled together near the fires they lit for warmth and comfort against the storm. Mercifully, the worst of the blizzard seems to have passed, and there is no further sign of undead. By the time the suns have fully dawned, they set eyes on a landscape around them that has been coated entirely in fresh snow.

Moving warily, but with haste, they trudge their way through the snow banks and continue northward, with Gera, Vanya, and Boryenka scouting ahead. They finally catch sight of the village some hours past noon, and are greeted there by the village folk, who are largely elated to see their kin returned mostly unharmed.

Once things have settled slightly, Deremr announces that they would have a feast, both to give sacrifice and thanks to the gods for their deliverance, and to celebrate it. With food stores being relatively low given the recent trouble, he asks Kalahan and his warband to go hunting for mammoth, and they promptly set about doing just that.

Though it takes a couple of hours, they manage to track down and successfully hunt a small herd of mammoth, downing several of the massive creatures in a brief scuffle. After butchering and preparing the meat for travel, they return to the village to find the preparations in full swing. A massive bonfire has been set up in the centre of the village square, surrounded by an assortment of tables and cooking fires for the feast.

While the preparations wrap up, Deremr gives them the opportunity to clean up and relax in the main hall, after which they would have a ritual to give thanks to the gods for returning the people of the village safely home. The warband takes baths and spends some time winding down in their separate sectioned rooms, dressing in their cleanest clothing before returning outside.

Here, they find Deremr at the edge of the lit bonfire, dressed in shamanistic clothing: a headpiece of elk antlers draped in golden ivy, a thick cloak of white fur, and a staff adorned with bone fetishes and amulets of teeth and talons hanging from the knots in the wood. He invites them all to sit around the fire, which they do, and the ritual begins.

"*For your blessing, we harken, o ancient ones. O lord of battles. O mother of winter. O herald of storms. We give praises and we are heard. We give thanks and we are greeted. We give sacrifice and we are blessed. Blood and bone, we give, to the earth that bears us. Heart and spirit, we give, to the halls of our mothers and fathers. Let them look upon us, brothers and sisters. Let their names resound among the living and the dead, where they will never be forgotten. Alvadr, hear our call. Ismoeder, hear our cry. What the future holds, we cannot know. Guide us. Grant us sight beyond sight. Show us to our path.*"
 ― Deremr Valgfsson

At the end of the sacrificial prayer, Deremr spreads a cloud of blue-grey dust over the fire, and invites the warband to breathe it in and ask for answers in the flames. They do so, one by one, and their eyes roll back and they fall unconscious, passing into a dream state.

### Dream State*(???)*

When they wake, they find themselves in a strange dreamscape, as though walking through a half-forgotten memory. They are atop a low hill, amidst the ruins of a circle of stones carved in the likeness of massive swords plunged into the earth. Around them they can see spreading out a strange, beautiful landscape.

"*You look beyond, and stretching out before you is a war-torn landscape: broad grassy fields and hills, valleys and crags. Littered across it all are the countless remains of battles both ancient and new. Giant bones of great beasts and monstrosities jut out in some places, towering crumbling statues in others.

Above it all, the heavens are aflame with a magnificent aurora. Some of you have seen them before, the northern lights, but never in such a display. Curtains of greens and blues and purples paint the sky in a dazzling array of colour, seeming to dance and twist and fold on themselves such that watching them for too long becomes dizzying. There is no moon, but the aurora is so bright that it casts a radiant glow across the landscape, every nook and cranny awash with the strange unearthly pallor of the dancing twilight.

Far in the distance, silhouetted against the burning sky, a single hill towers above all the rest, and atop it rises a hall so large that it is clearly visible even from this far out. You can hear, even from here, the faint sound of voices on the wind: singing and cheering and roaring in anger or laughter, you can’t tell.*"
 ― The Storyteller

Kalahan, with great excitement, surmises this to be the Corpse Hall, the divine realm of the Bannerlord. They set off down the path from the hill, heading towards the great hall, but shortly thereafter hear the sound of a warhorn blowinm, three blasts, and the sound of nearby fighting.

They rush down the hill towards the battle, and find an ongoing skirmish between a number of figures dressed in ornate runic armour, with blue flames pouring from the eyeholes of their helmets, and similar figures in obsidian-black armour and molten yellow fire pouring out of the cracks. Kalahan and the warband quickly realise these to be Einherjar, and amongst them a Valkyrie, and dive into the battle to assist. By the end of the skirmish, only the Valkyrie and the warband survive, and she thanks them all for their aid despite not yet being amongst the glorious dead.

"*You have my thanks, and the blessing of our Hall. To die again in battle is a fitting end, but to live until the next battle, and the next after that, is more fitting yet. I owe you a debt.*"
 ― The Valkyrie

She explains to the warband that the attackers had been foul servants of the Cinder King, who had been attacking in greater numbers of late. As she says this, a drumbeat sounds in the distance, as though a call to war, and the Valkyrie turns to leave, explaining she is needed elsewhere.

Before she leaves, in thanks, she offers Kalahan her horn, swearing that she would come to his aid as he had to hers whenever he blew on it. She takes off her helmet to say goodbye, revealing a broad, strong face laced with scars, and eyes that still burn with the same blue fire that on closer inspection seemed to glow and reflect the stars above. Most importantly, her hair is a dark auburn, plaited along the sides: the same auburn as Kalahan.

"*You fight well stranger. Die with a sword in hand. When it is time, find me in the Corpse Hall, and we will feast and drink and spill blood together once more. Until then, good fortune in the wars to come.*"
 ― The Valkyrie

From her back sprout massive wings of starlight, so bright that they are forced to wince and shield their eyes, and with a single powerful flap and a fierce rush of air, she bursts into the sky and disappears amidst the burning aurora. Around the warband, still absorbing the revelation, the dream begins to fade into black.

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