Lore Post One

At the base of a large tree, sits Augr Crone Olîn. While wandering, he found himself drawn here by the whispers of the Gods. These whispers come frequent of late, the tidings austere. Olîn sits as still as stone, head tilted back, veil draping his face, eyes locked on the clouds. Dagfinn’s brilliance wanders across the sky as Olîn sits. The day grows long, the light wanes. Eerika’s waxing face crests over the mountains. As his Mother Moon’s rays bathe him, Olîn is consumed by a vision.

The clouds swirl with malicious intention. A mouth appears, with tusks, the horrible maw of an orc. Behind, more orcish maws appear, a massive horde of Orcs in shadow! Olîn’s vision goes green with swirling miasma. In the center, a great Vadurkin city, one unfamiliar to Olîn’s eyes, blanketed in snow and locked in the ice of the harsh Northern winter.

FIRE! The snow is alight! The city is alight!

Orcish war chants echo in horrific cacophony, discordantly accompanied by tortured screams. The people, the kin, are being slaughtered. Off guard, not one shield wall raised, no horn of warning blown? Somehow, the city was caught by surprise, infiltrated and overcome by a massive orcish horde. Olîn’s vision flies through the city, death and destruction everywhere. None safe from the barbarous treatment of the orcs, not even the younglings.

Olîn is trapped, seeing flashes of every horror occurring in the city, seeing the horde of orcs beginning to dig an encampment into the city. The city is taken, every person slaughtered, taken, or rare few fled. Fire burns on the snow as buildings fall, a great loss, a terrible loss.

Breath rushes into Olîn’s lungs as the weight of stone leaves his body. Darting onto his feet and leaping onto the back of Gjafabeorn, the old moose sensing the urgency and galloping off immediately. Grief hits Olîn, and he does what Crones do when overcome with emotion. He SCREAMS, he screams again, and again, until he can think.

Barreling toward the stepped city of Greywald, Olîn sees a familiar figure on the path. “Runar Amonsson, come with me now. I have a terrible message for the Konugr.” With haste, Runar is swept amooseback and the three ride directly to Geir.