The winter dragged on with many in Rohald looking to the Thulr’s to seek confirmation that this was not the Fimbulwinter that would proceeded Ragnorak.
Recovering from their wounds, the heroes of Rohald drew their furs closer around them and rode into their forests to chase off woves that preyed on the outlying farms in their territory. They were joined by a silent hunter who had travelled from the lands of the Long Shields and Sorceror Kings. Deadly and silent he stalked his prey carefully, and confidently spoke of a small pack of Warg’s that could be quickly dispatched by competent hunters.
Closing in on their prey, they came across a terrified merchant running through the forest pursued by three relentless horsemen. As Jorun Hrolfsdottir called a challenge, they brooked no honeyed words and bore down on Rohald’s defenders.
The hunter’s arrows felled one quickly, whilst Wulfgar’s axe cleaved through man and mount as one. The last fell to a blow from the merchant after he was fairly matched by the sword of Gisli. With his dying breath he uttered one word “Astrid”. In death it became clear that these were three brothers, with blood from a hunt marking their shoulders and matting their hair.
Over the following night the group were disturbed by the howls of wargs in the forest. Even Wulfgar began to question if the numbers their hunter had so confidently predicted were true. They set their trap, seeking to flush the pack with fire down a valley towards the Gunnerson’s land. The group took their positions, Kester secure in a tree apart from the others who drew bow and readied spear for the dozen or so Wargs. Isolated, the Thulr was unable to withstand the attack of Draugr spirits. Sapping his fury and powers of the Wyrd, they then sought to target the Beserk but with less success.
Powered by the Thulr’s spirit and their own anger they took possession of Wargs. Evil beast of snow white, descended from Fenris himsef, bore down on Bjarki the Half-Dead and Wulfgar Gunnarsson who stood back to back as brothers in the circle of flame. Three of these foul creaturesdirected a horde of their lesser brethren, a full hand dozen, towards the remaining heroes. As befit the leader of her clan, Jorun Hrolfsdottir bravely bore down on the first of these frost-warg and slew it with a mighty thrust of her spear.
To her horror a foul draugr emerged – jumping to another nearby – that leapt for her. She was grabbed from the Walkure’s embrace, by Svein the Hunter who leapt from branch to branch and cut the foul beast’s throat with his sword as he did so.
Seeing their fate, the two within the flames fought mightily. The battle-rage upon him, Wulfgar Gunnarsson leapt unarmoured into their mist, his axe like a scythe at harvest time. Grievous was his wounds, certain it was he would fall to Tyr and joys of Valhalla’s halls. Gisli whirled his blade, convinced his time had come. As it seemed all hope was lost, the Jarl’s daughter felled the last of the Fenrir spwan, causing what was left to scatter.
The Thulr recovering from his attack rushed to his friends aid – and calling on his skills returned him from Tyrs cold grasp. He guessed that the honey-words of the merchant,were little more than ways to mask the rotten meat of his lies. Her fury at the breach of traditions in place, the Jarl’s Daughter dragged the churl to the Jarl’s justice.
As they rode into the town, they saw the pitched mound and deer the brother’s had slain as proof of their intent to avenge their sister. The Jarl’s justice was swift. The Merchant was beheaded and as weregild the Jarl extracted favours from Jorun Hrolfsdottir, the pelts of the wolves, and married [[:kevin-s-hirdsman | Bjarki the Half-Dead to the wronged [[:astri-ottarsdottir | Astrid]].