Thought for the day:"I was asked if there is a B&Q in Llanelli. I told him not if you spell it correctly."
Drinks specialities
and there's more..
In other news it is Easter Sunday. I saw a thought today that as long as they did not move the boulder from the cave then we had a Schroedinger's Christ - both alive and dead .. just a thought ...
But then I say this one - and not even doctored for the hands - it is definitely a quarter to eleven
A week to go to Curious Pastimes Event 1 - and I have been asked to consider writing a song for the Skildir - a group in the Wolves - the Viking set ..
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| The lost lands.... |
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| The Flag of the Skildir |
The fall of house Torsten.
(18 years ago)
Yarl Torsten looked out over his land from
the rooftop balcony of his mead hall, the clouds chased across the skies like
Valkieries, hiding the sun from warming the land, once, years ago that same sun
would be giving life to crops and soon the farmers of this great and bountiful
land would be reaping in their hard work at the harvest to feed the people of
Norsca.
Not now, now the land was war torn, the
gentle rains that fed the crops now replaced by blood, the farmers and their
families cut down and butchered by the greenskins.
All the Yarl saw now was smoke rising from
burned farms and ruined woodlands.
The Norscan Militia had collapsed a week
ago, the warband had fought on bitterly and lost many brave warriors, the mempo
had driven forward like a plague, killing everything in their path, men, women
and children.
“My Yarl, the greenskins have destroyed the
last village and are heading for your halls”
The voice of the herald broke the silence, the Yarl felt the weight of
those words weigh heavy on him, sensing the incoming doom.
Torsten turned somberly, fastened the last
buckle on his armour and retrieved his dane axe from above the fireplace.
Gesturing towards the centre table he
instructed the herald to take the Yarl's sword, collect his sons and ride from
here West. “If I must go to Valhalla my family must survive to take up the
fight when they come of age. Summon the Drachengard to hold the last defence.
The Drachengard. The Yarl's finest
warriors, summoned from noble families who lived in the breadbasket. It was a
great honour to receive the call and be trained as an elite warrior, to be
pushed further, to be fitter, faster, and more skilled than any enemy who
raises arms against the Yarl or his family.
Each of them had the rune of Dagaz upon
them, the rune of achievement and fulfillment, the rune of awakening &
rebirth, They were his personal protection, his honour guard.
[Dagaz – “Day-gahz” – Literally: “Day” or Dawn – Esoteric: Awakening
Rune of the hyper-consciousness. The process of concept becoming realized.]
The Yarl went down to the gates, ready to
face the butchers of the mempo's merciless forces, the Drachengard flanking him
either side.
Out of the mist came thousands of snarling
greenskins monsters, their oriental armour clanking like a hate filled meat
grinder, the Yarl released a prayer to the gods, gave a bid to the commanders
of the guard, and charged in to the horde.
They leaped in to the enemy lines with no
fear, carving in to them like a scythe borne of hatred and vengeance, but for
each enemy who watered the ground with their blood 4 more took their place and
slowly, painfully the Drachengard began to fall.
The Yarl carved his way through the Mempo
to the warleader, seeing that it was hopeless. Over the screams of battle he
gave his final command “take a handful of your best and fall back, find my
sons, train them, teach them our ways, survive to fight another day and we will
one day take our lands back.”
Ulfric Deathshadow, warleader of the
Drachengard looked with horror at the Yarl “but.. My lord” was all he could
utter.
“Gods dammit just do it, Deathshadow! We'll
hold them off.”
The warleader took ten men and withdrew,
watching his Yarl and the remaining Drachengard hold of thousands of mempo
forces.
11 men left to tell the story of that day,
of how the Yarl stood up to the ultimate challenge, of how through his bravery
the breadbasket would survive, through taverns word spread, more refugees of
the breadbasket flocked to the Sons of Yarl Torsten, they trained quietly,
secretly, they ignored the political treaty that had been created, each time
they sneaked in to the breadbasket and took mempo lives they remembered that
day and swore to take the land back, and thus the Skildir was born.
The Skildir (skjöldur in Icelandic, meaning
shield) are the survivors of the Mempo invasion of the eastern territory of
Norsca, colloquially known as the Breadbasket of Norsca.
Formed from the resistance to treaty in
which the breadbasket of Norsca was given over to the Mempo, the Skildir are a
guerrilla fighting force, specialising in ambush and shock tactics, favouring
skills like Chameleon to assist the fighting force in their operations.
Although they are currently officially
expelled from the breadbasket of Norsca (the lands to the east of the Fenris
Teeth Mountains) it is a well known secret amongst the Skildir that there are
Norscans still in hiding within those hills and forests who refuse to leave,
and it is rumoured that covert operations go on to this day to attack Mempo
outposts and patrols (there are never any witnesses to confirm or deny this,
just burning Mempo bodies).
They're ultimate goal is to take back the
Breadbasket and expel the Mempo from their homelands.
thinks ....
Cheers !
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