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Thorfinn Hegnirson
#1
Thorfinn's story so far....

Fletvold, a quaint Koloi drinking village with a small fishing problem, lying quietly on the Angierthan coast.


The three of us had been friends for as long as any of us could remember. Harald was the son of Sven Arnolfsson, a prominent merchant-fisherman who lived in the village. And Inga Ivarsdottr, who lived in the hut next to my family's. Harald was, by all means, a benefactor of his father's wealth. He was a scrawny, dark haired boy who had no problems getting what he wanted from his patriarch. He had less success with the other children in the village, though, which is why he became my friend. I wasn't the largest child in the village, but I was big enough to provide a distraction while Harald fled from danger. He was, however, still my friend. Inga was a freckled-faced girl, with unruly red hair, who held on to her baby fat a little longer than most. She did have beautiful green eyes, and a smile that would make me pause in any situation, so we became friends rather quickly.
We generally stayed clear of the other children, choosing to pass the time not beating each other senseless, as the others would do. We would go fish off the dock's edge, or sometimes build a raft to fish farther from shore. We would play games and other activities outside of the village. Some nights, in the winter season, we would lay on the hillside, watching the northern lights dance across the sky, and I would tell Inga of the stars we used to guide the ships across the sea.


We would meet many of the merchants who would stop for provisions, and try to sneak peeks at what wonders they would bring from their ship's holds. One merchant in particular, a sea-trader named Takei from Quan, would tell us many stories from places he had been. I would help mend his ship, and help carry food & ale on board in exchange for trinkets and stories.
As we got older, I would spend much of my time on the docks. I learned to build and maintain the longboats and fishing trollys. I would spend many days on the boats, bringing in the nets and rowing. I saw Inga and Harald less frequently then, As Inga was usually helping her mother with chores and Harald would spend most of his time wasting it. It was at the end of the day, however, that I had really discovered how much Inga had changed. She was very pretty now, and many of the boys had just begun to notice.


**It was a warm, harvest night when we stole away to our
hillside hideaway, I still remember that night as if it were
moments ago. The lights danced in the night sky like magic. We
spent hours talking of village gossip and adventures we had
during the summer months. She laughed at my japes and smiled
when I boasted of my seafaring accomplishments. We met in
embrace and kissed, then shared the night in lover's passion.
A few sunsets later, I heard that Harald had proposed to her.
With his family's wealth behind him, and pressure from Inga's
parents, she accepted. Somehow I knew it would end this way. I
bore Harald no ill, he only thought as I did of Inga. They
married soon after, and brought a beautiful daughter to this
land by the planting season. We drifted apart from then on, it
was difficult for me to see them together, though when I did it
was nice to see them happy together.

Our last harvest was very poor. A drought had ravaged much of the farmland around our village, and many of our people were sick from the lack of food and drink. Our elders had been deliberating the crisis for many days, and there was fear and unrest. Canute Rolfsson was a very popular young man close to my age, and he gathered many of the boys in secret one night. He described a plan to sneak in to a village, not far south of ours, and steal some provisions. We would not speak of this to the elders, as we were pretty sure they wouldn't approve of Canute's plan. It seemed relatively simple. The fifteen of us sneak in at night, fill our bags with food and water, and quietly creep away, returning home as heroes. As Canute's friend, Tomas, confidently stated, "What could go wrong?"

As we entered the village, we separated into small groups to search for the provisions. I had the aforementioned Tomas in tow with Nicklas Arnolfsson. We came to a good-size hut that Nicklas believed was a storage hut, due to the complex weave of the thatched roof. I asked him why that made a difference, and he replied "well, it's complex, idn't it?" So we went with his judgement, mostly because we didn't want to argue at that moment. We snuck in through the back of the hut. That is when we realized we had stumbled into the village militia barracks as we were now surrounded by a surprised group of men.
The men began to reach for their weapons, I had to act quickly. I saw a haft near my leg, so I grabbed onto it, a dis-used rusty longsword. I felt a brief fit of panic, I could feel my heartbeat begin to rush. My hands began to burn, and I could feel the blood flow through my veins. What was happening to me? My vision changed to a blur of strange colours. I heard only the sounds of metal tearing into flesh, and muted screams and cries of their immediate results. I could not control it, I felt my body lashing out, but I did not know why. I couldn't stop it, but the strangest part is......I didn't want to. The power flowing through my body was incredible. It burned, yet felt warming.


I continued until all was quiet. I then regained my cognant senses and fell to a knee. I looked about. I saw all the men, lying dead around me. Their bodies torn asunder. I shifted my gaze to my hands. My hands and arms soaked in blood, still grasping the sword tightly. I dropped the weapon instantly, what did I do? Could the red mist have taken me? I looked for my comrads, hoping for an answer. No one was standing in the room. Could I have....? Maybe they fled when the scuffle started.
I heard more voices approaching, so I made my way out the back of the house. I stripped the blood soaked shirt from my body, I couldn't let the others see what I had done. I made for a small stream near our rendezvous point to wash the red stains from my hands, then waited for the others. Everyone had made the meeting point except Tomas and Niklas. I had to tell the boys that we were intercepted by the militia and had to run. I told them I had no idea where they were. We left and returned home mid-day.


There would be no fanfare for us as we had expected. We walked into the village square, and Canute rang the praises of our 'conquest' aloud for the village to hear. What we received was a mixed reaction. Some of our friends and family were pleased with our triumph, but many more showed fear and nervous mumblings were prevailant. My father approached the square, I could see the shock in his eyes. Elder Matthieu Halfdansson told us to return to our homes while they discussed the event.


"What in the gods names were you thinking?!?" Yup, dad was pissed.


"We are not a barbaric lot of pirates! We don't steal from our neighbors when we have meager harvests! We live peacefully, we trade and farm to survive. We ask for help from our friends when we need. Do you remember what happened to your brother, Svidlof? That's right, he was killed trying to raid a Rolori town!"


This went on for what seemed hours...


"We will have to make atonement. We will have to beg forgiveness, return what you have stolen, and more, in hopes we can slake any thirst for revenge. You and your friends may have led us to the precipace of tribal war! I hope we can settle this before it escalates into more death."


Their retribution, however, came swift and fast. N'merian longboats stormed the shores quickly, and before anyone could react, the raiders tore through the village, slaughtering the residents and burning the houses. I heard the clatter and exited my house. I saw the flames from the houses near the shore and heard the screams of the fallen. My father had grabbed a sword and started towards the docks. My mother and sister, Edelie were fleeing to the safe house. I had to check Harald and Inga, so I made my way to their house in the centre of town. When I reached the house I saw several bodies around the broken front door, so I grabbed a sword and entered. I found Harald, near death in one of the rooms. He grabbed my boot as he lay there and said "Go..find my family, please....get them to safety..." I ran out and made my way, full speed, to the safe house. I was too late. Just as Harald's house a few moments ago, the safe house door was broken open, the guards killed. I clinched my sword tightly and ran into the hut. Empty...save the bodies of the young boys and a couple women that were within. My mother one of the slain, I had no time to lament, I heard a muffled cry from the back. I ran to the sound, behind a small wall of hay bales, under some blankets was a basket. An infant child lay in the cradle, wrapped in a blanket my mother had made for Inga's newborn girl. It was her! I dropped the sword, pulled the baby out and bolted for the door. I didn't stop running until I was well within Hog's Hill forest.
We made our way east through the forest. I carried the infant as far as my legs could go. After traveling a couple days, I had come to the conclusion that I would need some assistance. The baby was crying incessantly, and would not eat any of the food I had foraged. It was brutaly clear, I could not nurse a child. I only knew of one safe place. A few more miles northeast of here was a village, a Clan my father told me was friendly. I remember hearing from my mother that a companion of my grandfather's lived there and had become the village's shamam. Perhaps Gulthrum could help? I had to try.
 

I reached the village by early morn. I found a man near the village centre, and he pointed me to my destination. An elder opened the door. I asked if he was Gulthrum, and he nodded slightly. His eyes looked through me, and recognition showed as he lowered his brow. I told him I needed his help, but before I could tell him my name, he held his hand up to stop me, and said "I know who you are....rather I know of your blood. Come in, friend....child of Thorvald Einarsson." I followed him to his hearth, where we sat, and I told him that I was grandson to Thorvald, and what had transpired and exiled me to the wild with the infant girl. "She has Thorvald's spirit, I can feel it." He said as I told the story. "But she is not my child." I replied. "Are you certain? Is that what her mother told you? Evina, tend to the child." A young woman came in from a back room and took the child back with her. "Inga wed Harald, and this girl was born of their love." I told him. "Perhaps you are right." said the Elder, though his face rang doubt.
"I will help you. You can stay here until the child can walk about on her own. What is the girl's name?" I could not remember, or perhaps I'd never heard it. I had only seen Harald and Inga sparingly since they wed, and only saw the child once before the village fell. "I don't know." I replied. "You will have some time to remember, or perhaps give her, a name which befits her. Now get some rest, you will have to earn your keep if you are to stay here."


For the better part of the next three years, I spent my days fishing at the nearby lake, assisting the trade of goods for the village and tending the crops to earn my keep. One of the nights, during this time, I laid on the lake's edge, looking out at the stars. I remembered back when Inga and I would lay for hours watching the stars. I remembered the lights and how beautiful they were. I decided that I would call the girl Aurora, for that name would remind me of those nights I spent with Inga.

It was a warm summer day when Elder Gulthrum took me aside for what was our final talk.
"Do you know much of your grandfather, young Thorfinn?" He spoke. "I only know from what my father told me. He told me he was a savage, a brute who abandoned his family in lew of destruction and war. My grandmother raised my father alone since he was an infant. I know very little more than that."
 

"Perhaps there is some truth to what your father says. But Thorvald was much more than just a savage. When I met him, we were young. Ambitious and eager to adventure the lands of Erath. Tired of the petty squablings of tribal warlords, watching our friends die in vain. A few of us pulled together and traveled far from Angiertha, in search of riches, artifacts and the promise of something better. We came back once or twice, to visit the ones we left, only to realize why we departed to begin with. It was one of these times we returned, when your grandparents met. It was not meant to be. We had learned of a small band of orcs approaching from the north. They hunted for destruction in Angiertha, we had no choice but to leave. It was not a small band as we were told, however. There were too many of them. Your granfather held them back long enough for help to arrive, but I could not reach him until it was too late." He paused his story to clear his throat, I could see the pain in his old eyes. "I found Thorvald on a hill of fallen orcs, his body broken. I dove to his side and prepared a healing spell, but he said 'No....not this time. Let me have this...let me go, I will join the Gods in their halls.' Clutching my arm with one hand, he placed the hilt of his sword in my hand with the other. 'Take it, please. I want it to survive.' Those were his passing words, he smiled as his life escaped from him." Gulthrum stood and walked to a chest, and pulled out something wrapped loosely in hemp. He brought it to me and placed it in my lap. "I've no use for trinkets or trophies anymore, my time is short. This belongs to you, to your family." I unwrapped it and pulled out the sword buried within. "It is 'Hausakljúfr, the Skullsplitter'. You will need it for your journey. You must know, your destiny does not, cannot, end here. You must go and find Aurora's mother, and your sister, if they yet still live. Be careful, it will be dangerous. You will meet others whose intentions, purpose and struggles may equal your own. These people, no matter what their shape or size, may become good friends. Use their resources and friendship."
 

So we left for Freehold, Gulthrum had said that was a good place to start. Many slave traders travel through there...


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Thorfinn Hegnirson - by Long John - 02-23-2015, 09:51 PM

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