Pathfinder 1E Crowns of Ice - A Tale of Blood and Betrayal

[Archon Basileus]

Welcome, Ladies and Lords!

Tomorrow we shall begin to unfold your stories right on this stage. As we agitate ourselves struggling with fate, the mantle of uncertainty covers our hearts, making us fear the worse, but hope for the best.

Rejoice in the time you have! Today the gods smile upon you! Lovers reunited, brothers ready to strike iniquity, a father’s pleas answered, a world to conquer! Revel in gifts of divine benevolence, fated men of the north, for no richer days are in sight and the hearth roars fire still!

So much joy today! But, tomorrow… Ah, tomorrow…!

@Fenris @Queenie @tglassy @Jago

 

[Archon Basileus]

Spring in Grandael.

Lively crowns of Twinflowers and timid Luddvedels bend under the gentle strokes of the winds. Fields grow, green and strong, as the snows of winter give place to fresh streams of water. Brooks shine under the sun and the coast awakens with vivid sails gliding through deep-blue seas. Mead Halls resound with laughter and song and streets smell as honeyed cake and venison.

Anvils sing as metal tastes fire. The last woods are bent, the last sails, sewn. Men swear their oaths on their wristbands, and promises are made. The gods are revered, and rejoice. The blood runs over the altars, the wine runs over the altars. Children laugh, and sing, and race through the backyards. Beasts exercise their laziness under the sun. Shepherds shepherd, hunters hunt, fishermen throw their nets against luck.

And alliances are made.

When the snows melted, travelers took to road and seas once more. Merchants, sell-swords, sworn enemies… Sweet brides… And even some grooms. It was under these blessings that Astrid's party left home, the solemn longhouse under mountainous shadows of ice, to reach blooming Grandael. There, Einar, son of Volund, held a welcoming banquet in honor of his wedding.

The longboat that carries Astrid glides softly through a welcoming sea.

“It should be a few more hours until we reach the coast of Grandael.” – the navigator says in his typically dry manners. Old Gisle had been in the service of the MacTriers for years, and throughout all this time he remained solemn and laconic, commanding practical sense and a severe posture towards his duties. Nevertheless, his concerns for Astrid are clear. He insisted in accompanying the bride, swearing to help her under any circumstances.


[Base material and map draft - https://docs.google.com/document/d/14sS2x0mkrfA7U4cYEsLaNANSZeC2Re6PtF0m-Zwy1BI/edit]


@Fenris @Queenie @tglassy @Jago

 

[Queenie]

Astrid paced the floor of her father’s ship, her long elaborate silver gown trailing behind her as she did. She hated having to travel in something so impractical but they would not have time for changing before her new husband and his family greeted her. So travel in the snug silver gown with the plum beads she did. Her seamstress had worked hard on the dress, cried when she put it on, and cried this morning when she left.

Astrid gazed down upon it, the silver embroidered threads sparkling in the bright sunlight. It was a gorgeous gown, she supposed, a perfect wedding dress. It enhanced everything a groom would want in a bride, and hid nothing he would not. Astrid was glad in this moment that the blush of youth was still upon her and she'd been given the gifts to properly fill out such a dress. She'd been receiving marriage offers for years and finally it had been time to accept before those gifts left her and a dress like this would be left to her sister alone. She'd brought a trunk full of these gowns, for however long these festivities were going to last.

She sighed and returned to her pacing. Her wolf pup happily kept up right behind her, getting her exercise prancing delicately behind the girl, avoiding the gown.

Not quite a girl anymore, she pondered as she looked out over those green seas, A woman now, on the way to my own wedding. She could easily get lost looking out over that water recalling when she was just a girl and she believed the sea was the answer to a lot of her prayers. A life of adventure she longed for, a place for romance and freedom, sweet freedom. Little girls are quite foolish. The thought made her uncomfortable, for more than one reason. She sighed, turned her own luminescent green eyes from the water back to the boat. She hadn’t been a girl for a very long time.

Her maids sat speaking to each other under the shade of the covering in the back, nervously looking around. She couldn’t blame them, she felt nervous too, she just could not let herself show it to anyone. This was her job and she would do it, she’d spent a good part of her life learning about wifely duties. She also needed this to happen for her own reasons that not one person on this ship knew about. It was lonely having secrets and no one to speak to about them, she was hopeful this union would change that. Changing your home after a lifetime of someplace comfortable and happy was no easy feat though. She was certain her ladies were not thrilled about their move either.

Some of her very long auburn hair had been plaited up into elaborate braids, her family crown woven into the style, and it was pulling on her head, giving her a headache. Or maybe it was just the nerves. As soon as she touched her forehead to rub it there was a loud feminine cough from the back of the boat. She rolled her eyes.

“Gisle, is it possible to make this boat go any faster? I believe I will feel better once my feet are back on shore.” She knew that was actually the very last thing she wanted but getting this over with was the only real outcome now. She paced up to the front, up close to the painted silver dragon that adorned the bow of the boat and leaned on the side, letting the cool air blow her hair back that way as she looked out over the beautiful land they called home. Her wolf hopped up under her arm and Astrid gently pet her as she pondered what her fate would be like; she’d soon enough find out for herself.

 

[Archon Basileus]

ASTRID

Inge’s reaction is a laconic, brief smile.

“I can only imagine such anticipation.” – he looks around, as if to measure the weather conditions. He turns back to Astrid, shaking his head as he grimaces, dissatisfied. “Winds and oars won’t cooperate any more than this.”
He rises, walking around the deck for a bit, and goes to the side of his lady. He studies the woman for a while, his hard gaze wrinkled in her direction as the eyes of the women fall over the duo. Astrid could feel their apprehension as the old man approached. Inge was always far more liberal with the girl than all others, lacking a family of his own as well as any respect for the excesses of highborn conventions. Inge had been an adventurer and a fighter for a great deal of his life. He did not care for fancy clothes or ceremonious habits.

He took a second glance at the dress.

“What’s that made of? Sif’s golden mane? Move around, girl! I’ve never seen you standing so still in my entire life!” – the old man smirks, raising an eyebrow to the women in the back, clearly provoking them to action. Nothing was spoken.

“I will say, you look beautiful” – and now Inge lowers his tone. “But what is the price of beauty, if it arrives with a heavy heart? Come, girl, you are not the maiden someone has made of you just now” – he points once more to the back of the longship. He silences for a moment, leans towards the waters, and begins once more, looking over his old, round shoulder.

“Remember when you used to steal away for hours? Embla would go insane over your disappearances! I bet she never told you this… or your father, for that matter. She feared so much you’d leave and never return... Sylvia asked of you all the time, and Embla would create amazing stories of boar hunts and golden boughs, and Rig would appear in so many of them, carrying you, protecting you, fighting alongside you.” – Astrid and Inge overhear moans of disapproval from behind, but the old man seems enticed by a gleaming piece of memory only he can see. “Soon Sylvia would become jealous… She came one day and asked me if you and Rig were lovers. I simply smiled. I couldn’t spoil her innocence like that, refusing the gods to her…” – the old man’s eyes become wet over his sincere smile. “…So I simply said you were blessed, just as she was. I left her to dream of her own heroes and gods, and soon enough she’d pester Embla to repeat the entire Völsunga, night after night, hehe! I reckon she wanted Siegfried as her sister had her Rig.” – he subtly dries his eyes for a second, a rude hand not used to such delicate gestures.

“What would your father make of it… Two old fools speaking of the old gods to his daughter, right under his roof… But they were just stories, in the end. Why would his Demiurge come to rage with the happiness of an innocent girl?”

“I hope this man is wise, and brave… And ready for you. We’ve been blessed. By you, by Alec, by Sylvia… and Saria.” – he lowers his face as a sign of respect. “This man better be wise, and brave… and ready for you. You deserve no less than Rig himself.” – he pauses, turns and faces the rest of the group in a defying tone. “You have to do what you have to do… But remember what is under the fabrics and the adornments, remember your strength. If he tries to break you… Break him first. I tell you this because no one else would.”

Strange attitude for such a seasoned warrior...

@Fenris @Queenie @tglassy @Jago

 

[Queenie]

Astrid watched the blue green waves break around the ship as the old man spoke; she’d never heard this tale before. He was right about one thing, no one else did speak to her like this. She blushed as he spoke of private things, things perhaps only ladies would speak of but Astrid knew she would have to be able to have a private conversation about all kinds of uncomfortable things with another man soon enough so she might as well start.

She didn’t turn from the sea as she spoke in soft tones to the warrior. She supposed there was no harm now in speaking about this to anyone, it was so long ago. “Were we the only fools who thought we were in secret? After all this time, suddenly it seems so, and it appears the future will not let me move forward without first looking back.” She turned her body sideways to face the man but kept her back to the women, surely they did not know, or she would have never heard the end of it going on years now.

For a moment a beautiful memory overcame her, and Astrid closed her eyes and let it take her, the glory of the recollection passing across her face. The corners of her full lips turned up and her cheeks became rosy with a blissful glow as time passed, hours for her in just mere seconds. “He was like Rig to me, Inge, a God amongst men, and I would have been his Móðir and lived with him anywhere and happily been his wife and mother of his children for all time. I care not for this frockery and nonsense, I do not care what my upbringing claims of me. THAT is the true lesson my father taught me. He taught me what love is and how important it is. He was still teaching me of it just this morning before I left.”

The beautiful memory passed, replaced with pain and sorrow of what happened and her features changed to reflect that: a frown replaced her smile and her now open green eyes turned cloudy, reflecting that grief. “But it seems Lofn had more to say about our love than any other god of old. My love was so unhappy, he thought he was not enough for me and I could never make him see he always had been more than enough… so it is that some love stories end and some fairy tales do not have a happy conclusion.”

As the wind picked up and swirled Astrid’s thick wavy hair around her face of its own accord, she could hear some gasps coming from her handmaidens in the back and the smile returned to her face. She nodded towards the rear of the ship. “My poor ladies are never going to survive living in Grandael like this. They will be following me around with a hairbrush and sewing needle everywhere I go!”

Astrid called towards the back, “Siv and Hilde, are you two going to keep watch over me while I sleep in the night to make sure all my hairs look perfect for my new husband too? Surely he will be doing his best to muss them up on our honeymoon!” She got a good laugh at that while both her ladies gave her shocked and disapproving glares.

She quieted her voice and returned back to speaking to Inge, “I suppose that was rather vulgar of me.” A few more small chuckles escaped her lips under her breath. The disruption caused Ruby the wolf to stretch her back with a long arch before leaving Astrid’s side, who took up wandering around the ship again.

Astrid’s face settled back into a calm state but a small smile remained. “I too hope Einar is brave and wise. Father left the decision up to me myself and it was difficult to have that decision on my shoulders alone. I do not have many illusions that going into a new home, a new pagan home, that I am suddenly going to become a trusted ally and advisor. But perhaps I can earn that one day.”

She bit into her lip as she mulled her next thought over. “I… I would like to think he does not want to… break… anything about me but… is not that the job of husbands? And Vikings? They… break things. I do not know they know any other way to be.”

Astrid put her hand on the old man’s arm and squeezed him gently. “I will take your words to heart Inge, take them with me always, and remember them when all else is gone. They can take the fabrics and adornments and,” she reached up and delicately touched the silver crown resting on her forehead, “Pieces of my old life, but they cannot take me.”

 

[Archon Basileus]

ASTRID

“Were we the only fools who thought we were in secret? After all this time, suddenly it seems so, and it appears the future will not let me move forward without first looking back.”

“Oh…” – Inge blushes. “I… Was not aware of it. Not until now… They were… only stories…” – he listens to her as she speaks of her past love with mixed feelings, admiration and embarrassment transforming his expressions.

“You were happy, I can tell. And that is good. Hold on to those memories. What comes ahead might still hold light to you.” – he says, a wishful expression overtaking his old face.

“But still… Grandael is not your father’s stead. As Jarl Alec, the lord of Grandael holds great prestige. But while your father’s ambitions are guided by valors and responsibility, well… Grandaelians can be far more tenacious. You know that old Volund might have been king in place of Einar, don’t you?” – he glances the horizon, measuring his words.

“What I mean to say is that, despite their honor, Grandaelians are used to the subtlety of courtly politics. Be careful not to let anything sleep inadvertently.”

“I too hope Einar is brave and wise. Father left the decision up to me myself and it was difficult to have that decision on my shoulders alone. I do not have many illusions that going into a new home, a new pagan home, that I am suddenly going to become a trusted ally and advisor. But perhaps I can earn that one day.”

“Einar Volundsson has a good name and a good father. Those who speak of him praise his qualities and his actions. These are good signs, I think. I heard he does not leave his father’s halls too often, and skips combat altogether lately. Those are not good signs…” – Inge clearly sees things through the eyes of a combatant.

“Despite all this, he’ll hear you. If he has half a brain – and it surely looks so. Your presence at Volund’s halls sediment a solid, dangerous alliance. The valleys offer iron, silver and bronze for many lands, including Einarhöf and Grandael. Imagine if suddenly Einar Volundsson can rely on your father’s help to fight a war, or fend an enemy. Men can’t fight wars with bare fists.” – he squeezes his vision, as if trying to see something in the distance.

“Now… King Einar’s sons know all about it, for sure. Gods forbid your new husband to have a taste for the throne. Even so, keep your eyes up. Hella take me if you don’t find one of the king’s sons attending to your marriage, making sure you did wed Volundsson.”

@Fenris @Queenie @tglassy @Jago

 

[Queenie]

Astrid dropped her hand from the man’s arm and tried to hide the wide eyed look on her face.

“I - I knew some of what you are speaking of but not all, Einar spoke of some of it to me... I mean, growing up it was always assumed I would rule over something, my own father’s lands if not another’s. I suppose it was foolish of me to think I would escape a life of it anywhere. And I know Einar is more… ambitious… than my father, but he is also young and perhaps once he has a wife and,” she wavered slightly at the words, “Family, he will be happier with life in his own halls? Maybe.”

She pondered the old man’s words as she looked out over the calm seas, suddenly her insides felt quite a bit more turbulent than they did moments before.

“I understand the value of metal in the world we live in. I understand that it is possible I am being traded for commodities. But I choose him, rather than the other way around, which makes me feel a little better in the matter.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed it, but she would keep telling herself that until she did. Einar had at least made a good show that he cared for her and would take care of her and it was best if she kept that in her heart rather than other more plain matters.

She set her green eyes back to the old warrior. “What – what did you mean I might find the king’s sons attending to my marriage… I am not quite certain of your meaning.” She had a hint of it but the man was trying to give her a message, it might as well be clear. "Do you think he wants to be King, Inge?" Astrid held her breath, hoping she hadn't just run into a war of gods she truly hadn't seen coming.

 

[Archon Basileus]

ASTRID

“I understand the value of metal in the world we live in. I understand that it is possible I am being traded for commodities. But I choose him, rather than the other way around, which makes me feel a little better in the matter.”

“Listen, I have no reason to doubt his feelings and concern towards you…” – the old man continues, keeping his voice low. “But Einar has become all-too-relevant after his father retired from his lordly duties. I remember well the days of the Muri, my lady… Volund and Einar the Old were neighbors and friends. Volund led men with courage and cunning. His talents rivalled those Einar had. So close they were he named his firstborn after the man, by Odin’s beard, or so I heard! When the moot came, many spoke of Volund for the throne, while others wanted Einar. Not even that broke the two apart. Volund refused any ambitions for the throne and publicly asked for all to join under Einar. First to swear allegiance, he was. His influence was not lessened, though. Grandael is still well armed, well protected and quite relevant, should a war begin… And the north never rests, as you certainly know, my lady. How long till your husband is called upon to resolve a conflict, to build a pact… To rule?” – he looks over the seas, pensive.

"Do you think he wants to be King, Inge?"

“I think that any future king will at least have to rely on Einar Volundsson for advice. And the one that assures such support before old Einar’s death will hold an advantage for sure.” – he leans over his shoulder towards the guards. “But all this talk of politics confuses me and leaves me parched. Ulf, Steinar, Magnus, where’s the mead?” – he turns towards the watchers as Ulf retrieves a skin. The old man takes it, thinks for a moment and offers it to Astrid first.

“Tell me, Ulf… You’ve been around for the last few years, haven’t you?” – Ulf becomes stiff as an oak and white as snow.

“Ye-yes, Inge…” – Ulfs activities were, for the most part, less than respectable.

“Have you heard anything about Volund’s younger son?” – he raises an eyebrow, curious. Ulf calms down.

“Oh, Thorir. Thorir Volundsson… Last I heard he stormed some slave merchants down the coast, southwest. He made quite a name for himself. And quite a fleet, or so I heard.”
Inge smiles as he sits to drink.

“And what do they call him, again, Ulf?” – the old man seemed to know the news even before Ulf started.

“Sea king… That’s how strong the man turned out to be.” – the answer comes from tall and sullen Steinar. As he hears the words ‘sea king’, he looks at Astrid in complicity.

@Fenris @Queenie @tglassy @Jago

 

[Queenie]

Astrid took the mead and pulled a long drink from it. Apparently she was going to be needing it, and it did sooth her nervous belly after it went down. She handed it back to the old warrior while she contemplated.

Astrid tapped her full lips while she thought it over. She didn’t recall Einar mentioning a brother, or any sibling at all for that matter. Why would he not prepare her? She supposed it didn’t matter, they’d have a lifetime to discuss his family tree if he so chose. Still, something seemed odd about the omission…

She returned to the present and finally smiled.

“So what you are saying is that my future brother thinks this,” she waved her arm out over the edge of the boat in a grand fashion, “Is all his? He is the king of the ocean, is he? His god Njord just might have something to say about that.” She gave another laugh.

“And what does this Sea King plan to do with his fleet of ships I wonder? Cause problems for his older brother no doubt. Is it just mischief? Or does he want rule his father’s halls in his brother’s stead?”

The soon to be married Lady looked to the rough warrior Ulf. “What else can you tell me about this brother? I would like to be as prepared as I can be, especially if this brother, Thorir, might be a disruption to a peaceful life.”

 

[Archon Basileus]

ASTRID

His god Njord just might have something to say about that.

“Trust me, my lady…” – Ulf’s voice replies – “Njörd has spoken, and gave the man his blessings. I heard he fought an entire tribe of mani and came out victorious… He still has the spirits that protected the tribesmen imprisoned in a collar, they say” – his eyes widen, showing his revering fear for the man.

Stein smiles, irony in his eyes.

“What else can you tell me about this brother? I would like to be as prepared as I can be, especially if this brother, Thorir, might be a disruption to a peaceful life.”

“Why would any man capable of taking to the seas and emerge victorious wish for cold Grandael?” – Stein’s stoic tone rises, gaining the conversation. “He has manpower. As far as I’ve heard, these spirit talk is just that – talk. Still, he is quite skilled for what I know, and his men… Well, they’re resourceful.”
Ulf interrupts.

“People speak of seasoned warriors and crafty rogues among the crew. But that’s not all. I’ve heard they are helped by a sea witch of unequaled bea… a sea witch that can talk to the gods” – Stein quickly corrects himself – “and a skald that can conjure the souls of fallen heroes through his songs.” – Stein rolls his eyes as he listens to Ulf’s superstitious tales.

“Lord Almighty, Ulf… You do believe in everything your hear, don’t you?” – he says, unaltered.

“But it’s true! How could someone make it up?”

“A sea witch? Dead heroes? Now you’ll say that Thorir really killed a troll with his bare hands, entirely naked!”

“Everyone knows it!”

“Everyone mocks you, you idiot! That is Beowulf! It’s a western tale, nothing more!”

“What do you know of it? You were raised in the church! I know the stories by heart!”

“Sure! That’s why everyone loves your singing!”

“I had a sore throat that night, but the stories were perfect!”

The debate continues as both men ignore Astrid’s presence. Inge turns to her instead and continues.

“Legends aside, he is a dangerous man. His crew might overwhelm a solid troop with seasoned warriors. Still, while their father lives, I see no reason for him to openly attack his brother.” – the old man tries to bring some sense into the conversation. ”As for… less natural means, men talk a lot of nonsense, but there might be some truth to the rumors. I wouldn’t be surprised, at least.”

@Fenris @Queenie @tglassy @Jago