Ódóvir Jotunsson

The Doom Rider

* Profile
* Plate
* Furs

**Ódóvir Jotunsson** is an Aasimar Paladin of the One-Eyed Crow in the Realms of Ahlus.

## Personality

A hearty, cheerful and charismatic adventurer, Ódóvir believes himself to be a true Asgardian reborn in the Realms of Ahlus, to act as his purgatory until his divine mission is complete once more, in stopping the impending doom, which he has dubbed *Ahlusrök.* Once his divine mission had been fulfilled, he believes that the Valkyrie shall return and call him back into the Halls of Valhalla to drink amongst the Norse gods.

Whilst lacking in intelligence and general wisdom, Ódóvir offers his strengths and aid in the form of divine magic imbued with the powers of the Storm Lords and entitites of Asgard, and pure unrivalled strength and determination to defeat his enemies.

## Backstory

Ódóvir was adopted by a family in Mightmoor in 107WD after being found on a beach in a manger shaped into that of a boat, trimmed with golden filigree and gemstones. Raised by a human mother and goliath father, Ódóvir had a pleasant and fulfilling upbringing that left him wanting for nothing. It was not a life of splendor or luxury, but he was cared for, loved and educated. During his childhood,he became enamoured with tales of Ysgard and the gods of Asgard, wishing for his mother to read him the tales of the Valkyrie each night.

As his father was a skilled fisherman, along with Ódóvir's obsession for the sea and travel aboard mighty vessels of the ocean, Ódóvir is adept in both the navigation of seafaring adventures and the captaining, maneuvering and overall ordering of a ship and its crew.

When Ódóvir reached adolescence, he would befriend a one-eyed raven who would often sit upon the balcony of his bedchambers. An imaginary friend, his adopted parents would suggest, but the raven was very much real to Ódóvir. They would speak for hours on end, speaking of his ancient celestial bloodline. Hildr would follow Ódóvir until the present day, offering wisdom and guiding his path.

He came to believe that his dreams, the tales of his celestial guide, the stories of Ysgard that he had read, along with the Remnants of the First Gift, were all connected. Through the stories of others, his visions, dreams and imparted wisdom, they began to blur into one another, bringing about profligate delusions of grandeur and believing he was a great Celestial reborn. Knowing in his heart that he had been chosen for a divine purpose and gifted the blood of Asgard, he ventured forth into the Realms of Ahlus exploring, adventuring and seeking down the trails of the Malign and their desire to bring about what he would call *Ahlusrök.* He needed to train his celestial powers, to reach the divine might of his ancestors. As Celestials would never reveal their true name, he dubbed himself Ódóvir Jötunsson amongst his many self-given monikers.

It did however seem pertinent that his exploits were recorded, as an immortal being sent by Odin himself to stop *Ahlusrök.* So naturally, he hired the services of a bard by the name of *Elsid Rawley* to travel with, who would write sonnets, tales and ballads of his exploits, to read books and historical tomes to him as he travelled, and to fancify his visions and bring a bardic flair and artistic licensing to his dreams. Unfortunately, *Elsid Rawley* was killed by an Ankheg during their last adventure on the way to Whittengrove to explore the rumblings of Elemental power in the form of the Tsunami that struck.

## Equipment

Forged in the fires of Mightmoor, imbued with the spirits of Valhalla, Ódóvir carries the Jotunnban, Bane of the Giants, the Moon Touched Axe into battle.

Alongside it, the mighty shield and protector of men and Skálm, the cleaver, though both are actually completely mundane, they look intricate and well made.

Whilst Ódóvir wears tattered and broken chain mail, he dreams of forging plate armour that hold the splendour of the Einherjar of Asgard.

Beyond his shield and arms, Ódóvir has a solar stone with engraved rune to aid navigation at see, a pointed tattoo cannula and a pair a hand axes gifted to him by his father.

Ódóvir carries a standard issue explorer's pack amongst his other belongings.

Following the tearing of flesh, joint and bone at the teeth of the Remorhaz, Ódóvir sent word to Whittengrove for an artificer by the name of Fafnir Lutgehr to commission a piece of armoured prosthetics to replace what was taken and consumed by the monstrosity of the mine.

Emblazoned with the sigil of the One-Eyed Crow, the prosthetic arm is made of the finest steel plating that covers the clockwork mechanism that connected to the very tendons and bones that once were joint to his mortal arm. Intrictately designed and crafted, the arm has aided Ódóvir Jotunsson in furthering his abilities with his shield in battle, of which perfectly attaches to a contraption on the forearm of the prosthetic.

After being gifted the fang of the Remorhaz, Ódóvir Jotunsson travelled to Mightmoor to visit his parents before having his new sword crafted in the city of Rydoon.

Carved from the fang of the beast that took his life, the blade now hangs from his hip and is carried into battle to slay all that should pass the Doom Rider on the battlefield.

Upon victory north of Hobs' Fall against Skognar the Hill Giant warlock, Ódóvir claimed his gem encrusted club for his own, which he would commission Ashewan Norvegicus to craft down into a reasonable size that could be wielded in battle. Alongside the club, he would take home a bronze dragon scale to add to his collection of treasures from his many victories and a giant drinking horn that is large enough for half a barrel of ale, a regular amount of consumption for Ódóvir Jotunsson.

Whilst the Jotunnbrjóta is non-magical and inferior to his other weapons, it still hangs from the paladin's back as he carries it with great pride for their victory against the giant.

When Ódóvir Jotunsson discovered the statue of plate armour beneath Black Scar Redoubt, the paladin quickly moved to take it into his possession.

Upon his return to Amber Run, he commissioned the blacksmith of the town to rework and remould the armour into the image of Ysgard and the warriors of Asgard, trimmed with gold, with fur linings upon the pauldron and wings from the helm that would sit upon his skull. No longer dressed like a mercenary, but a true paladin of the One-Eyed Crow and champion of Asgard.

Ódóvir Jotunsson would declare the design and artisanship of Herklaedi plate to be the official armour of The Doom Riders and is working to ensure that all members adorn the same armour of their faith and organisation.

When Ódóvir Jotunsson marched into the Faeflame Forest, the Chosen Paladin of the One-Eyed Crow would duel the ruling King, being consumed in the midst of battle before slicing its stomach apart with Svigatonn.

Upon the denouement of battle in the civil war of the bullywugs, Ódóvir Jotunsson claimed the helm of the deep sea knight, though re-forged the slime-like steel and effigies of frog-like elements. The helm grants Ódóvir the ability to breath under water and suffer no penalties in combat when submerged.

Ódóvir Jotunsson ventured into the Weald's Wake in search of herbs for the realm, a truly boresome task to which he had little excitement. But as the days went quietly, it seemed to be the only excitement he might find. Little did he know that they would stumble upon ruins of an ancient land that marked the murals and markings of Heroic Realms of Ysgard, in which sketchings from the war of Atia's First Gift unfolded between angels and denizens of darkness.

Upon the finding of a chained tomb, the All-Sight Rook noted the both weal and woe if he was to release the entity within, who would be found to be Andvett. Within the tomb, Andvett welcomed the adventurers to take the weapons that were wielded by the very warriors that bound him within his prison. From the treasures, Ódóvir Jotunsson would take the Örtaka Shield.

A sword of demonic origin, taken from the folk hero known as Kelun. This ornate longsword seamlessly blends both organic and inorganic components, featuring a subtly animated handle that shifts and grows to better match the grip of its wielder and an pommel depicting an acorn on one side, an apple on the other. Decorated with shifting runes reminiscent of sylvan script, the metal work shows signs of corrosion and tarnish upon its edge, but this has done naught to diminish its sharpness. The entire blade perpetually radiates a gentle warmth, as if left out beneath the sun on a summer day.

The history of the blade Toil is currently unknown, but is suspected to have sinister origins given its inadvertent usage as a tuning fork to the Infinite Layers of the Abyss by the Warlock of the Archfey Kelun. After being beguiled into opening a rift to the layers of Tinaemortum, the domain of the Demon Prince Acherontia, the weapon was claimed by the paladin **Ódóvir Jotunsson**, who has wielded it since.

Megingjald was claimed during the great Kroan Games of Rydoon, in which he gained 2nd place in the sword tourney, following dishonourable play by Roderick Reman. He is yet to use the item for its power, nor intends to, for it serves as a great trophy on his mantlepiece and a reminder that only friends can betray, for you cannot betray your enemies.

Gífrhögg is the skull of an Ice Troll that was slain on the isle of Threehorn during their expedition to the Hoarfrost Fragment. Following their inability to claim the leviathan head for their own, which would have been Ódóvir's greatest trophy, he refused to move on until he had claimed its skull for his home as proof of his strength and valor.

Dynjasax, commonly known as the Covolt Dagger, is an enchanted weapon forged with covolt, an elemental blue metal that carries storm-like properties. When Ódóvir scores a critical hit with the weapon, his enemy takes additional lightning damage and cannot take reactions until the start of his next turn, The dagger was found in the ruins of Morrhelvgix Khos, in the lair of Vorn Helvlani.

## Followers

During his time adventuring the Realms of Ahlus, stories of the paladin's exploits and fervent worship of the One-Eyed Crow has travelled as much as he, with many choosing to visit the settlement of Amber Run and serve both the paladin and the One-Eyed Crow. Among them are the following;

### Ayaz Hamza

**Ayaz Hamza** is an acolyte and devout follower of the One-Eyed Crow, as well as a follower of **Ódóvir Jotunsson** in the village of Amber Run. Born to one of the rarer human families of Khonoldhur, his family are of an ancient blood of the Raq Empire, though not of noble blood. His grandfather would tell stories of how their great ancestors would serve The Shadowsword in their defiance of Rak Tulkhesh and the Dustlords.

### Thogal Krathagsson

**Thogal Krathagsson** is a Goliath warrior of the One-Eyed Crow and follower of **Ódóvir Jotunsson**. Born in Ironbreach, Thogal was a renown foreman in the mines of the settlement and comes from a long line of Goliath ancestors who were adept in the profession of mining and prospecting. He speaks of his family's lineage that tracks back to the peoples of Lylcairn.

### Heilog Erlingsdóttir

**Heilog Erlingsdóttir** is a warrior and worshipper of the One-Eyed Crow and follower of **Ódóvir Jotunsson**. Born in Whittengrove to a family of carpenters, Heilog is a sharp-tongued rogue and former recruit of The Arken Den. Following a deal that went sour, with supplies and coin lost, Heilog has been hiding from the gaze of the Den ever since. Wanting to start a new life, she head for the settlement of Amber Run, where she met the paladin of the One-Eyed Crow, **Ódóvir Jotunsson**. Promising his protection, if she followed the tenets of their faith and devoted herself to the stopping the impending doom to the world known as *Ahlusrök,* Helsa converted to the faith and adopted the new name 'Heilog Erlingsdóttir'.

### Estrid Eriksdóttir

**Estrid Erikdóttir** is a diviner and acolyte of the One-Eyed Crow and follower of **Ódóvir Jotunsson** in the settlement Amber Run. Born to the Solberel family in Claygate in The Hollow Concord, Estrid had heard tales of the immortal celestial who lived amongst the people of Ahlus, along with the stories of his death and rebirth. Wishing to look upon the angel reborn, she travelled to the village of Amber Run to meet with **Ódóvir Jotunsson**. Becoming enamoured with his tales and stories of the wars that follow Aita's First Gift, Esther swore herself in devotion to the One-Eyed Crow and to follow his teaching and leadership of Ódóvir Jotunsson. Casting her birthname aside, she took the name Estrid, bestowed by the paladin of the One-Eyed Crow himself.

### Ulf Frodesson

**Ulf Frodesson** is a cleric and High Priest of the One-Eyed Crow in the settlement, Amber Run. An old and wise speaker and oracle of the faith of the Ainn Bhæygðr, Ulf was born in Savage Creek Hills and his family have worshipped the archaic faith of the One-Eyed Crow. For many years, even prior to meeting **Ódóvir Jotunsson**, Ulf has chosen to speak often in that of riddles and common rhyme, choosing sage words when speaking of his visions. Open hearing tales of **Ódóvir Jotunsson** and his rebirth, he left his wandering clan to meet the paladin and opted to remain in the settlement and serve as the priest of the church in the hopes that more citizens of Ahlus would come to join their flock and see their faith rise in prominence.

### Sýnæsir

**Sýnæsir** is both name and title, for one who is gifted the sight of The Ainn Bhæygðr. Since the rising of their faith, this solitary creature has made the long journey to Amber Run to take residence upon the outskirts in a hove she calls home. To the few that have seen her, she appears to be both beautiful and terrifying, due to the aura she has been shrouded in by the very powers that grant her sight. Some within town who have given in to fear would call the Sýnæsir a witch, a harbinger, and purveyor of death. With long nails, a scar upon her left eyelid and black rooted hair that grows into white matted locks, the Sýnæsir has shown little care for her appearance, though some suggest that it is this very look that helps maintain the aura of the powerful being that worshippers of the One-Eyed Crow believe her to be.

## Honorary Doom Riders

Those who fall, shall rise. For death is only the beginning. Those should die, those who would Ride the Doom and return to the lands mortal men, shall be inducted into the Doom Riders and be born again in under the wings of the One-Eyed Crow.

**Current Doom Riders**

## Trivia

* Ódóvir has a celestial guide that takes the form of a one-eyed raven named Hildr. No one else has or *can* see her.
* Ódóvir took the name Jotunsson to honour his adoptive father, a fisherman of Mightmoor and Goliath named Vauzak Silentclimber Egumiala. Whislt his adoptive mother is a Wood Elf called Helestina Forestdream. They adopted Ódóvir as they could not birth their own.
* Ódóvir is not Ódóvir's real name, because he knows that Celestials shouldn't give out their real names.
* Elsid Rawley was a bard who travelled with Ódóvir on his travels, whom was killed by an Ankheg enroute to Whittengrove.
* Ódóvir trained with the Rydooni Hoplites and served in the Rydooni army.
* Ódóvir's only experience with water vehicles is a small fishing boat.
* Ódóvir prefers not to read, but be read to. Just as Hildr did as a child which inspired his belief that he is a Celestial.
* Ódóvir was killed by Ophidian in Aita's First Gift.
* Ódóvir has a slight, but growing, addiction to Potions of Growth, due to the strength and image he possesses whilst under the influence.
* Ódóvir has hired Ashewan Norvegicus as his personal apothecary to provide him with his potions.
* Ódóvir desires above all else, to find a Belt of Giant Strength, to which he will name Megingjörð.
* Ódóvir believes death to be a social construct.
* Ódóvir struggles to see the value in coin and material wealth.

## Flytes

Ódóvir Jotunsson has been known to engage of wit, humour and insults, as he hurls rhyming words to verbally abuse both friend and ally. When time permits, and his deity is willing, he is struck with inspiration to note down his flytes that are crafted for each of the people that he adventures with.

**Arnica**

```
A hideous creature blemished with markings of leaves and moss,

```

```
Invented all manner of things, but sadly not dental floss,

```

```
Stinking and ugly, your guise terrifies,

```

```
At least you’ve made friends with the attracted horse flies,

```

```
Curioforge and Curious Queer, by Odin the stench, stay away my dear,

```

```
For your arse is your face and your face is your rear.

```

**Casmaran**

```
A tear across flesh, a scar down your cheek,

```

```
Disgustingly hideous, you poor peasant freak.

```

```
You know I stayed up all night thinking of rhyme,

```

```
But you’re dull and you’re boring, a true waste of my time,

```

```
You’re gray and vanilla, no flavor nor flair,

```

```
Your most interesting thing is those shoes that you wear.

```

```
And don’t hear me wrong, they’re hardly a trend,

```

```
Even peasants without, they’d likely offend.

```

**Timbermitt**

```
Flamboyant and blue, dressed in all shades,

```

```
Friends listen closely as my insults cascade,

```

```
A creature of nature, a creature of night,

```

```
If only your flytes were as bright as your tights,

```

```
A high elf, a druid, a servant of the moon,

```

```
His life’s greatest question, be baboon or raccoon?

```

**Roderick**

```
Hold, no one breath, a light breeze may fell this knight,

```

```
His mind not what it was, a wonder that he took this flyte,

```

```
Leathered, gormless, creaking in his knees,

```

```
We beg you retire, hang up the sword, please.

```

```
Once capable, but no more. Riddled with ineptitude and impotence

```

```
You’ll only slow us down, be a nuisance and a hindrance

```

**Ashewan**

```
Short in his height, and short sighted in nature,

```

```
Ratty in looks and behavior, I’d wager.

```

```
You talk nonsense, babble, ridiculousness and hooey,

```

```
I’d find you more tasteful in a dish of ratatouille,

```

```
Ashamed of his pact and hiding his patron,

```

```
Two of a kind, cowardly and vagrant.

```

```
In combat… what to do, perhaps an eldritch blast…

```

```
Think, something else, he has nothing… eldritch blast…

```

```
Does it rhyme? Of course not. But my flytes are not phony,

```

```
I am merely lamenting the one-trick pony.

```

**Ellie**

```
Risen from the gardens of Asgard,

```

```
Flyting with one trained as a bard,

```

```
My rhymes are so slick, you’re foolish and thick,,

```

```
A single cup of ale, and you’re covered in sick.

```

**Gwyneth**

```
A cute little cat, with a crooked witch hat,

```

```
You purr and you meow, words wicked and foul,

```

```
If only your rhymes were as sharp as your claws,

```

```
Instead you hear boos, no thunderous applause.

```

```
You ate too much cake, you drank too much ale,

```

```
If your fur was black, you’d still look quite pale.

```

```
Stick to the milk, like a good kitty cat,

```

```
With all of that cake, you’re looking quite fat.

```

**Bannon**

```
An eye for an eye, a rhyme for a rhyme,

```

```
You look a peasant of squalor, dabbling in crime.

```

```
Have no honor, respect or pride?

```

```
I said it was nice to meet you, I apologize, I lied.

```

```
You sing shanties and songs of the great wide seas,

```

```
Exuding an aura, it isn’t good, it isn’t endearing… its sleaze.

```

**Faustus**

```
You walk like a thief, but dress like a whore,

```

```
Daddy gives you coin, yet you still want more,

```

```
You’re a crook and burglar, a stain to the Howells,

```

```
At the first sign of trouble, you’ll empty your bowels.

```

**Dorian**

```
Long in the beard but short in the arm,

```

```
You need no weapons, your face inflicts harm,

```

```
The ugliest creature in all of Ahlus,

```

```
Your face is repugnant, weathered and callous.

```

## Act I. Einherjar

*Eons ago, in a time before the recorded history of Ahlus, when divided consciousness of the creator brought upon the first doom, summoning the ancient primordials to tear through the lands, desecrating his very creation. But with the shattering of his consciousness, Aita was born and with it, the First Gift. Sixteen offerings to the Realms of Ahlus, sixteen divine beings to liberate the lands from its Primordial oppressors. But where divinity is released in such prodigious magnitudes, evil shall forever see its blinding light and seek to rid it from existence.*

*Where forces of evil tread upon land, besmirching the very divinity of the world. The supreme beings and divine warriors of light shalt always stand as Guardians of the Light. The interloper god, known as the One-Eyed Crow, would send the Einherjar to aid in the wars of the immortals. And this fair readers, is where the hero of this tale enters stage left.*

*As the Malign and their malevolent legions swarm the lands like a miasmic, virulent plague, the heavens opened. A tempestuous storm ruptures the clouds to reveal the harbingers of life and death. The Valkyrie of Asgard fly unto the fields battle upon Pegasi as the wings of raven feathers cast shadows over the armies of evil before radiance strikes upon them like the divine smite of Thor’s hammer. Among them flies the Warrior of Light, the Rider of the Doom, the Son of Asgard, Champion of Odin, the Zealot Vikingr of war and glory. Ódóvir, the Warrior of Wrath, adorned in golden armour and wielding the hammer of the storm, lands upon the battlefield as the earth beneath his divine feet shatters beneath him. Looking all manner of demons and elemental monstrosities in the eyes, Ódóvir showed no fear, for the Halls of Valhalla awaited him. If this was to be the end of the immortal warrior of storms, then it would be so. Soaring through the armies of the void, turning demons to dust and returning them to whence they came, Ódóvir would smite the evil agents in their thousands.*

*Like the Infinite Battlefield of Acheron, the war of Atia’s First Gift was eternal and unending, but the immortality of Ódóvir was not. After countless vestiges of evil fell before the Rider of Doom, Ódóvir would stand fearlessly in the shadow of Ophidian itself. With steel in hand, the Champion of Asgard would strike true into the heart of the Weaver of Serpents, calling upon the Storm Lord’s fury to imbue his vigor with divinity and power. But yet, it was not enough to destroy the core of a Malign entity. Our hero smiled as he looked to the skies, the sun shining upon his face as the Coroner tore him limb from limb, but he was unafraid. Charging out into the vacuum of an unoccupied mind, deafening all who listen to their monstrous cry from the bleak wilderness called Vallaha, the angels of death take our hero home, to drink at the tables of the gods with Odin and his sons. The war of the First Gift is over, and Ódóvir awaits Ragnarök with his brothers.*

*A story by Elsid Rawley, 130WD.*

## Act 2. Purgatory

### Chapter 1. The Phoenix of Valhalla.

Into the depths of the earth, where dragons lurk and shadows crawl, it is here that Ódóvir Jotunsson meet a force that would see wisdom fail as he failed to comprehend the mortality of his purgatory form. Leading followers into battle, the steel of Ysgard in hand, he stood before the monster of the depths, staring death in the eyes, laughing with splendour and joy for the awaiting halls, calling for the creature to ***'Do your worst!'***. An angel once, but no longer. His mortal form could take the strain of such a creature, not yet. As blood flowed, his chest and shoulder ripped joint and bone from mortal flesh. Black feathers falling as hands reached out as the Valkyrie played their song once more, calling Ódóvir Jotunsson unto the Halls of the Fallen, to drink amongst brothers and gods in Valhalla.

But no, it was not over. The gods were not done with Ódóvir Jotunsson. His divine calling still reached for him. As long as *Ahlusrök* remained a threat to the world, he would not be permitted into the Halls of the Fallen. As the storms raged and mountains boomed, cracking with lightning in the night skies, the heavy feet of Ódóvir Jotunsson would not stand in Valhalla on this day. Instead, he would stand upon mountains, looking upon his companions as they wept with sorrow and guilt. But like the thunder that ran through his veins, the Doom Rider's voice echoed through the lands.

***"Faustus Howell... do you still fear death?".***

### Chapter 2. Jötunn's Gambit

An adventure of two tales, starting with ending of a great civil war that would last an eternity without intervention. But through charm, persuasion and suitable charisma, a ceasefire was found between the Chwingas and the farmer, with Ódóvir Jotunsson hiring a young and abled young man to shoot down the invading woodpeckers with bow and arrow. The Pockemental War had ended.

In a tale of wit, cunning and courage, Ódóvir Jotunsson would engage in the greatest game of Dragonchess known to mortals. Led by an ancient Bronze Dragon, Ódóvir Jotunsson would serve as the leading commander of the goblin and kobold hordes. Alongside his allies, they would lead the creatures into battle against the minions of evil and the Elemental Warlock of the Hills. A worthy foe, Skognar of the Bristleback Mountains, servant of Nuldomul and purveyor of evil. Ódóvir Jotunsson would gaze upon the mammoth sized warrior and laugh, before bringing Svigatönn down upon the elemental hordes. Taking bounty as his prize, Ódóvir Jotunsson would lay claim to the hill giant's greatclub, to be reformed and crafted to meet the needs of the Doom Rider, the Greatclub of Giant's Bane, Jotunnbrjóta. Judgement would still come calling, as one Casmaran of Amber Run sought to enact murder upon their allies in a peculiar staging of bravado and fractious restiveness. A left hook, then a right, and a holy smite to end the fight. The criminal was subdued and taken before the courts.

### Chapter 3. A Cracked Rryr

In service to the Rydooni armies, to whom Ódóvir Jotunsson once served within their ranks, the adventurers of Amberrun stormed the stronghold known as the Black Scar Redoubt. Leaping from he battelments, Ódóvir Jotunsson would crash into the Gnolls and cultists to lead the charge. His allies in mere awe by his bravery as he cut through enemy after enemy.

Hyenas in there hundreds would swarm upon the Doom Rider, with Ódóvir Jotunsson disappearing beneath a mountain of fur for a time, but then the giant's blood boiled and ran true as Ódóvir Jotunsson burst from within with two hyenas held by scruff in each hand, then to be used as clubs against his enemies. With the aid of the Doom Rider's sidekick, Dorian, they fuelled Rryr Crackears with thunder and lightning, joint with the divine power of the One-Eyed Crow as Svigatönn cracked the Gnoll chief's heart. Just like the Doom Rider's companions and sidekicks, the heroes of Ysgard would revel and dance.

### Chapter 4. Bane of the Bullywug King

Gargantuan, obese, corpulent and swampy butter-balled he was. The Bullywug King, Splougglox Bedabblequag, ruled with fear and tyranny in the swamplands of Ahlus. Grotesque and malformed by its greedy, avaricious and yearning gluttony. As the Doom Rider faced the King down, no fear to be seen in the eyes of the Bloody Phoenix, he saw a hide too tough and capricious to be torn as easily as the slaves and minions he kept.

Daring, courageous and audacious to the point of near insanity, Ódóvir Jotunsson dived into the belly of the beast to attack from the inside, believing that its insides would be vulnerable to the flames of the Remorhez licked blade of Svigatönn. Tearing through, the fang of the flaming ice beast gutted the monstrous belly from within, with radiant light and angellic wings, Ódóvir Jotunsson ascended from the amphibian carcass.

It was through this act at of strength, this act of valour and divinity, that Ashewan was inspired with the courage to defeat Splarlunk the Mighty. And so it was, the Father of the Murky Green, Master of the Splarlunk the Mighty, the Baron of Gurkvale Marsh had been slain the Doom Rider. And thus the Warrior of Light would be named the Frogsbane and Killer of Kings. And from the King bounty, a helm was taken, Jotunsson claimed the helm of the deep sea knight, though re-forged the slime-like steel and effigies of frog-like elements.

### Chapter 5. Time to Fly, Time to Die

It was here, in a place known as Breakstone. Where death lingered and awaited all who ventured too close. Some had come to claim Beast of Breakstone as their own quarry and trophy, but they had not counted upon the Doom Rider's vigilance and divine strength as he led his companions into the dark caves of the minery within Breakstone.

Where foul creatures lurked, poison and disease hovered ominously. Calling upon his lineage of giant-kin, he grew to a size near five times his own and burst through his enemies, near never taking a scratch to flesh, nor armour. Their disease was too weak to slow the might of Ódóvir Jotunsson, as only mortal flesh can be afflicted by such things, not bravery or courage. For it was this that replaced the blood within his own veins. As Ódóvir waged war with steel, might and magic, the Beast of Breakstone would break and fall, only to reveal it was as much a construct as monster. An even worthier foe of the Doom Rider.

In its final act of sin and cowardness, the creature sought to explode its own core. Taking it upon himself, the brave paladin of the One-Eyed Crow leapt upon the core with chest and shield, to smother the explosion to come. Though it came with great pain, the Doom Rider would stand as he had done so many times before, to bask in the glory and cheers of his allies.

### Chapter 6. The Chained Advehent

Into Weald's Wake, Ódóvir Jotunsson leads his companions into the forests, seeking out... poisons... potions? A story without flamboyancy or excitement, but what came next will surely bring readers to their feet with glee and ovation. For they would be led to the an ancient fortress, guarded by flanking angels upon the doorstep. Ódóvir, with his immense intelligence and wisdom, would read the words and riddle upon the stone, and call forth the thunderous powers of Ysgard and smite the fortress into submission as its doors opened. All the while, Ódóvir fought off primitive werewolves from his allies, as some fell into a deep sleep upon the doorstep. Enemies defeated, wolves, riddles and doors alike. Ódóvir Jotunsson led the party into the ancient crypts that were... ancient... and otherworldly. Strange, alien... yet familiar. Words that Ódóvir would recognise as though they were a distant dream he could not yet remember, a place whose name was upon the tip of his tongue.
*Haki Sigewulfsson. Astrid Hamdottir. Farthegn Gardarsson & Fastvi Hordottir.* Names upon tombs of fallen warriors, names that should have struck with familiarity, and yet he had no memory of this place. Perhaps it was the darkness that lingered and stalked the party like prey. But none that could match the Doom Rider. Ódóvir Jotunsson called for his allies to flee as he held off the otherworldly entities at bay. With divine power gifted unto him, he would smite, smite and smite again. Growing once more, ten times his size, a gargantuan Ódóvir brought stone and dirt crumbling as powerful giant strides make their way through the crypts to save his companion once more, as darkness had followed them, as it followed him. Once more, the Bloody Phoenix would save the day and the lives of all of his companions.

But the tales does not end there, for what lurked deeper would turn even the bravest men, except ~~me~~ Ódóvir Jotunsson, into a state of fear. A coffin, bound with skulls, bound in chains of adamantine and tethered with dark energy. The Betrayer lurked within, awaiting his release. What if another were stumble upon this tomb, to release this creature from its binds. It would need settling there and then. They had not the time to discuss for endless minutes, near an hour. And so the chains were broken, and the Doom Rider and his companions prepared for battle once more, to fell whatever darkness lurked within.

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Herein rests one resolve, against wind and flame clash,

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Though defeat came from time, with morn rise and axe slash.

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In war of Dawn’s begin, called to guard soil and stone,

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With ally, against foe, for glory, not hope of throne.

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At breaking of bright shield, when sardony fell from high,

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Angels and winged serpents, en masse to block out sky.

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Baator and Chaos Mad, remain, dominion seek,

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And unto nature turn, to stop Elder’s harm wreak.

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But while tethers still haunt, turmoil ever does stalk,

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In chain and betrayal, on Domain Heroic,

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A soul bound, set to rest, divine slumber stoic.

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Words of warning, word of history, words of what lurked within. A faun dressed in steel, a celestial no less, one that perhaps matched Ódóvir's own strength of angellic blood. He should have remembered him, for they fought in the First Gift... they must have... yet no memory of this face. And yet, hatred and vengeance burned his soul. But Ódóvir was not one to stand in the way of a brother's vengeance. With arms clasped, brothers wished well and with good fortune, hoping to see each other upon the battle fields of glory one day soon as Ahlusrok pulled ever closer.

Relics of the Heroic Realms, relics of home and heart. The Örtaka Shield would leave the crypts bound to Ódóvir's own arm. To defend man, woman and child... and rat... and cat... and whatever Timbermitt is.

There was also a statue, some believed it was the Doom Rider himself... but legend has it that Ódóvir is far better looking.

### Chapter 7. Toil & Trouble

It is not often a man stares down a tyrannosaurus rex, but not all men are Ódóvir Jotunsson. It was that very act, among thousands of other, that made the Doom Rider a true hero of Ysgard. For few would stand fast against such creatures, let alone the two that Ódóvir Jotunsson called upon as his quarry in battle. With a thunderous war cry, his shield braced and Svigatonn in hand, he rushed into the fray, tearing across flesh. Ripping cartilage and bone from the monstrosities that threatened mankind and the Realms of Ahlus. Once more, as the gargantuan dinosaurs lay dead, his companions cheered and sung songs of his bravery in battle. Some pigs turned up after, but that is neither here nor there.

Brigands, outlaws, bandits. Names that men of nobility would shame others with when their ideals did not align with their own. Not all heroes wear capes, but some have a large array of different weaponry as their disposal and have angellic wings that can make them fly... and some take from the rich and give to the poor, or back to nature... it wasn't clear, but Kelun was a good man, because good men know good men, and Ódóvir Jotunsson was the best man. He promised his aid to the outlander warrior, and so they dined and feasted until the night drew in, telling tales and songs of the Doom Rider's adventures, bringing more into the awe that shone from his tales.

But alas, the man had been cajoled, fooled and deceived. For his actions were not in light of the Archfey he swore to serve, but another. One who manipulate Kelun into opening a portal with his blade, opening the door to another place, one of darkness, one that was deceptively Fey. There was no going back now, no time to dwell on the matter, no time to compare Ódóvir Jotunsson's intelligence and wisdom to Kelun's. Without hesitation, the Doom Rider leapt into the other world. And it was there, they looked upon an entity with such evil, such malevolence, that only a fool would not run... unless you were born with a divine mission, put upon the planes of men to destroy evil and rid it of tyranny and monsters.

These demonic insectoids would show their strength, but the Holy Warrior would show more, slaying a hundred demons as his allies ran for safety. Until the Doom Rider stood toe to toe with the entity, the Queen of these Demonic creatures. *"Fear is for the wicked. And you shall fear ME!",* as wings sprung from his back, tempestuous storms raging around him in an oscillating envelopment, striking hard and true he would thrust Svigatonn into the eye of the Demonic witch. A flesh wound, nothing more... but enough to turn her gaze from his allies. Enough to give him enough time to pass through the portal himself to see Kelun fail to pull the sword free due to his inadequate mortal body's strength. Without a moment to think, the Doom Rider pulled the sword free to close the portal and save the day again!

And with this act, he would claim the unholy sword as is own, confirmed by the Church of the One-Eyed Crow to be his divine mission to protect from all evil. *Toil. Ódóvir Jotunsson didn't know the meaning of the word.*

### Chapter 8. Chains of Delirium

Travelling far across the continent, breaking ice *and* evil as Ódóvir Jotunsson Captained the Hammer of the Whiterose across the northern seas. In search of the Isle of Threehorn, when Ódóvir believed to be secrets pertaining to the sudden appearance of natural landscapes such as the Bristleback Mountains. They sought secrets and information, until a great leviathan rose from the waters. A gargantuan monstrosity that few would believe to see with their own eyes. But it was no time to panic, wielding Svigatton and the Ortaka shield within his embrace, the Doom Rider flew with wings wide towards the deep sea monstrosity. A moment, a barrel roll, a snapping of hideous jaw as the paladin of the One-Eyed Crow deftly avoided the maw of the mythic being. A slash, a smite, a tooth pulled from its jaw before sinking into the Abyss. A mere scratch upon such a creature. Dipping and diving, avoiding the life ending snaps of the leviathan, time and time again, as a death by a thousand cuts would be the unmaking of the monster. With holy divinity surging through the Doom Rider, a final blow would break fang through skull, as radiant energy burst through the vertebrae of the creature, sending it back into the deep dark abyss of the ocean.
The only shame to this story is the the trophy that got away...

Hunting a creature beneath the ice, as the party landed upon Threehorn, all ways led to a dead end. Desperate times would often call for desperate measures. No amount of ice would stand between Ódóvir Jotunsson and defeating evil. As the fire-licked fang of Svigatonn turned ice into water, he broke through 300ft of hard ice single-handedly without absolutely no assistance from anyone else or any dolphins with horns. Into the frosty waters, the party swam deep down until they reached the caverns below, filled with dead creatures before the Doom Rider had even set foot upon their lair. They had saved him the trouble.

A citadel of darkness and evil, the City of Morrhelvgix Khos and the dark mage, Vorn Helvlani. Pleasant enough upon meeting, but such is the way of manipulative beings. Those who had been corrupted by darkness and the malign entities of the Abyss, and Vorn was no different. Powerful was he, with the knowledge and magic to restore constructs of a Drow empire, to bring demon servants from the Abyss to enact his bidding. When the true intent of the mage came to lips of truth, Ódóvir could not bare to hear another word. Leading his allies against evil and worshippers of the Abyss.

A long and starved battle, in which the Doom Rider would watch two of his companions fall, their final breaths leaving their bodies. A tear shed as he watched the rest flee... only Ódóvir stood between good and evil. An ally, one he would call brother from this day. A lost soul and troll who had been captured and placed in chains, freed and given wind and strength as Ódóvir and his Ice Troll ally would fight side by side in the name of the One-Eyed Crow. Between them, the Troll and Crow, the dark mage would fall and break, his evil ended and no more. His fallen comrades, lifeless upon the floor. But Ódóvir was not one to leave his friends, never to leave his companions behind. A prayer, to the One-Eyed Crow, calling upon his powers and strength to be granted. With all that he held within him, his own celestial power sacrificed, a portion of his strength taken, given and granted. And so they drew breath once more, now Doom Riders. Now servants of the One-Eyed Crow in life and death. Now brothers of Ódóvir Jotunsson.

### Chapter 9. Bonemeal

The Bristlebacks, a mountainous terrain reigned upon by evil and malevolence. The devil incarnate dwelling within the hills and mountains and feasting upon the innocent. The Flails of Nargus would fall before the might of the Doom Riders, and their evil machinations ended. It was this solemn vow that Ódóvir Jotunsson had made and would see through until its completion, or until Ahlusrok would destroy everything they knew.

As adventurers passed through the broken hills, Ódóvir would gain another follower of their great endeavour. As one Mattias Tavares, a shapeshifting barbaric druid would lend their aid to their cause. Found amongst the bodies of the innocent, Ódóvir was at first sceptical and vigilant to the giant hyena's presence, but soon would learn of their kindred spirits. A camp, for weary adventurers to regain their strength, and a time for Ódóvir to summon a worthy ally for their cause. A majestic mount fit only for the Einherjar, born from the celestial planes and heroic realms, the mount known as Sleipnir would be companion and ally to the Doom Rider from hence forth. With glowing eyes and runes of Ysgaard, his very existence would evidence of the Doom Rider's growing strength and faith to the One-Eyed Crow.

***"Gnash and gnaw, how their maws hunger"***

***"The blood of the living, stirs the bones of the dead"***

***"Beneath mineral pale, hell's heart burns bright"***

Whispered words that crept through the night, the manifestation of evil that lurked within the mountains that they sought to destroy. Growing ever more tenacious, that had lured the wrath of the Doom Riders. Until a grove was found, idyllic and beautiful, save for the poison that lurked within. Clad in armour of bone, Nybrekk Bleachbone summoned hordes of undead monstrosities and witherling gnolls to do its bidding. Hundreds upon hundreds awaited their arrival, bone totems surrounding the grove that Nybrekk has claimed for their own.

Without hesitation, the son of the Jotunn consumed the blood of giants as their power coursed through his veins, intensifying his great power as Jotunnbrjota was pulled from his back. He called for his allies to break the totems and leave the hordes of undead to him. With a bloodcurdling war cry, he flew with tempestuous winds, crackling with celestial energy, straight into the undead hordes. Cracking bone and cartilage, the Doom Rider would be all but consumed amongst the hordes as he found himself surrounded by hundreds of undead creatures that sporadically exploded in a blaze of fires. But it was nothing that could not be ended by the might of the Heroic Realms, for time and time again the Ortaka Shield of Ysgaard would absorb their evil powers and be consumed by the angel for his own strength to be turned against them. As his companion made their way through the bone totems, Odovir would take strike after strike, only his vigilance, reflexes, armour and shield keeping death at bay. But it was not death that the Doom Rider feared, but failure to end the tyrannical machinations of Nybrekk Bleachbone.

As bone was crushed to dust and bone meal, covered in the bleached dustings of the cadavers, Odovir stood tall and proud before the bones that piled a thousand feet high. A great shadow loomed over the Jotunn Son, as the skeletal cyclops towered over the Chosen Warrior. A smile, as Jotunbrjota was ignited with radiant energy before smiting the cyclops into oblivion, leaving only the bone devil known as Nybrekk standing. His new companion Matthias has kept the creature at bay, but soon would learn the true power of Ysgaard. With a crack of lightning, Odovir Jotunsson broke through the barrier of speed and light to split the devil asunder, bursting with radiant energy and to never return to the material plane, her machinations ended.

All that remained was the titan that laid half-risen in the dirt. It could not be allowed to stay in its form, but a trophy for a great warriors was needed. In honour of the One-Eyed Crow, the titan's skull would be broken from the gargantuan cadaver and returned home, to act as a entryway to the catacombs of Amber Run, where death would truly be only the beginning for the citizens of the town.