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GYLKRYSTofDUGAR
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ruff waters
Mist fell on the shore line. The waves tumbled rhythmically on the rocky shore. The water ice cold, and dark. Clouds rolled passed the sun in steady intervals, mostly grey. He had his foot on a piece of timber near the ship landing, his gold wool cloak wrapped around him like a blanket, the goat fur on his shoulders wet with mist. His hair was braided in a swirling patter starting at his forehead and wrapping to his opposite ear before lying on his shoulder. It was brown, and his eyes shone bright in the small glimpses of light, breaking through the clouds. He smiled.
The clanging of steel could be heard loudly in the early morning around the ship builders’ homes. They fought on the beach. The terrain was most like the places they fought battles, and became heroes. Gylkryst looked out on them from where he perched on the timber. He called them his “wolves” or the bludvargr, named after his houses banner. A blood red wolf emblazoned on white.
They practiced here, every morning, sometimes all day. It was how warriors grew strong, and skilled. And Gylkryst only wanted the strongest and most skilled warriors in his war band. The most powerful, and blood thirsty, the most skilled and cunning. Wolves were what he called them, and wolves were what they were. It was a little more than two years ago now, when the men of the continent came, and laid waste to the first chance Dugar had at rebuilding itself, in hundreds of years. The crusaders, and their light loving paladin. Gylkryst hated them, for killing Uro, and their chance at a unified Dugar. But more so he hated them for the good Dugans that they took with them, promising battle, and riches, and a chance to bring the ancestors and their people pride. Lies.
After the battle where Uro was slain, and the crusaders and Dugan clansmen left Gylkryst had pleaded with his father Gylfjor for good fighting men to avenge their king’s death. But like many clan leaders, including Haldor the traitor, Gylkryst's father had believed the lies of an evil lord, and relics of dark power. Gylfjor was glad Uro was gone, and that Dugar was once more in chaos.
So they came to the sea side, the warriors Gylkryst had gathered from all across Dugar. Any warrior filled with bitterness for the men of the continent was called out to not only avenge Uro, but to pillage, and burn the entire continent. Gylkryst wanted to create war. It was on this day, of routine practice that Gylkryst was approached with the tidings that would give him a means to his meditated ends.
A horseman came from the east, galloping hard down the beach. When his horse’s hooves came within hearing range the wolves paused their mock combat to look up at the rider. He galloped hard to the warriors and leapt down from his horse's back. Some words were exchanged between the rider and one of Gylkryst’s men. The rider was escorted to where Gylkryst watched, in the ship builders’ yards.
“Messenger from the south my lord.”
“Thank you Ulf.” Gylkryst looked at the rider, now up close. He was wearing a rugged leather tunic over his wool and linen ones, to keep him dry on his ride. He had no cloak. His trousers were tight and bound with vinigr of undyed wool on the calf. “And what clan brings me tidings?”
“We call ourselves Gjallarfolk, Men of the Gjallarhorn sire.” He spoke nervously. As he should have. In the battles that followed on Dugar after Uro’s death Gylkryst’s Bludvargr had made a small reputation for being unfriendly with anyone who they did not have personal acquaintances with. ”But I bring a message not from our chieftain, but from the chieftains across the sea. From the continent sire.”
Gylkryst tried to keep his face emotionless, but even the mention of the continent sent waves of hot red anger through his muscles.
“Chieftain across the sea? Surely you don’t mean Haldor, and his pathetic group of eldors who betrayed their people?”
“No sire! I mean the brothers Thronar, and those who have remained loyal to the clans of Dugar.” In the time that followed Gylkryst learned of a conflict between the Dugans that had left Dugar. Some had true wisdom after all. Seeing that the crusaders and Haldor had lied to them about the glory they were supposed to gain they stayed behind in an abandoned seaside village called Bubar, and had begun rebuilding it into a Dugan settlement. The Thronar brothers, who were once Thunderaxe clansmen had taken the responsibility of leading the rebuilding, and now led what they considered to be a new clan there on the continent.
When the messenger was done recounting what had happened in the village of Bubar he moved directly into his next message, like a good messenger should. He told Gylkryst of a group of continent men, called Cirion, who practiced the ways of viking much like the Dugans, though they were a bit different in their tactics and manner. They had propositioned the Clan of Bubar into doing some mercenary work, of which the messenger was unsure of the details. But they promised a large award in plunder to the Clan of Bubar if they helped to kill their enemy; another group of Cirion. Bubar was a small clan though, and knew that though money was needed to build their new village, they would walk away from war with many valiant dead to burn and to honor; but dead men all the same. So they sent a message to Dugar in hopes to rally some silver hungry warriors.
“So messenger,” Gylkryst said when the message was delivered, “Why is it that you bring a tale full of tempting riches to me? You must know that the Silver Ravens clan and its princes are among the richest on Dugar. How does this tempt us to leave our home to help the earsligs of the continent?”
“Because my lord! The Cirion know the Paladin!”
His mind erupted into a series of possibilities, and saw the revenge, and his plan to get it swirl in a million directions. And his hate burned hotter as he imagined ripping the heart out of the paladin’s chest, and bringing Haldor back to Dugar to be killed in front of all those whom he betrayed.
“My lord? Are you alright?” the messenger was not fooled this time by the mask of no emotion Gylkryst tried to wear. This time his hate and anger showed on his face.
“Yes, this is good news.” He selected a thin arm ring of glinted silver and tossed it to the messenger. “Your message has been delivered, now return to your clan.”
“My lord, it has been a three days ride to reach you! I thought I might stay in your hall tonight? Just to rest my body for my long ride back.”
Gylkryst had already turned to walk back to the hall. Over his shoulder he looked at the messenger, again with his emotionless mask, “You’d only be sleeping with a pack of wolves, and in a den of hate.”
That night the pack gathered in Gylkryst’s mead hall. It was in his father’s village of the Silver Raven’s Clan, but it was on the out skirts of the town, where the thralls and the monotony of a workers life could not bother his warriors. That night they discussed the trip that lay ahead. They went over the funding, and all the preparations that needed to be made. Each man in the Bludvargr had his own duty, and area of planning he oversaw when it came to Viking expeditions. For the most part Gylkryst sat in his high backed wooded chair and listened to his men, who were almost self sufficient in these things; if it weren’t for the fact that he had the money, and the passion to drive them. As he stared into the hearth fire he pictured the battle that lay ahead with his self proclaimed nemeses. Watching his sword tear at them again and again, and watched their blood spill into the earth feeding the world serpent with their death-dew.
The plans were made in one, late, night. When it was over the men looked to Gylkryst for closure. He stood, and drank down the remnants of his horn, then handed it one of his slave girls.
“Huskarls. Bludvargr. Brothers. I have gathered you from all the corners of this frozen island. Gathered you under one banner. The banner of the wolf, of brotherhood. The fates have sewn a new thread into our lives. We have trained for two years now, two years of sword mastery, spear mastery, axe mastery, to do one thing; take revenge. I have made sure you all have the best armor and weapons, and made sure you all have the best skills for battle. But now I need you to don one more piece of armor, to grasp hold one more weapon. We are about to travel to the continent, and see the face of our enemy of two years. An enemy we have never crossed blades with before. And when you meet them you will no doubt crush them with your savagery and might. But in order for us to accomplish total decimation of those pathetic people we need to wield a new weapon: red hot, burning, all consuming hatred! We need to meet their pious “light” worship, and weak minded crusade, with passion for revenge. Our hate needs to sear flesh before our swords touch it, shatter their bones before we clash in battle! Our savage lust for their destruction should burn their homes, rip apart their men, ravage their women, and end their children and bloodlines before our dragon headed ships even touch the sands of their land. We sail now, as fate has seen it, to aid one clan of the continents men. But do not let this make you soft. For once we have defeated this enemy of the Cirion; we will turn our blades on our enemy at last. And burn them in the fires of savagery and war. Hold on to this new weapon I have given you. Hold it close to your hearts, and sleep with it beneath your head. The tides of death are on the wind, and ruff waters lie ahead.”
---
Kunolf 'rjodrvaldyr' Sigvarsson af hid Austvargr af Gardariki
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5/15/2009, 1:49 am
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Eindridi Gramtho
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Re: ruff waters
this is full of win...
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-Warband Jarl & Goði
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5/15/2009, 6:48 am
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Jarred NightThorne
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Re: ruff waters
I love it... 
---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
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5/15/2009, 7:38 am
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NadarathNachtwulfofEryndor
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Re: ruff waters
Amazingly awsome
---
~Member of the Thieves Guild~
Live well, fight hard, and have no regrets whether you live or die.
Battle is a dance, in which death is courted and life is tossed aside without regard.
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5/15/2009, 8:53 am
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AthronofEryndor
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Re: ruff waters
Oh snap.
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Nothing can hide in the light.
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5/17/2009, 6:56 pm
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GYLKRYSTofDUGAR
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Re: ruff waters
i hate you
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Kunolf 'rjodrvaldyr' Sigvarsson af hid Austvargr af Gardariki
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5/17/2009, 8:03 pm
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AthronofEryndor
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Re: ruff waters
i still feel fond towards you
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Nothing can hide in the light.
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5/17/2009, 10:45 pm
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GYLKRYSTofDUGAR
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Re: ruff waters
haha, yeah i can't hate you... but no i do
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Kunolf 'rjodrvaldyr' Sigvarsson af hid Austvargr af Gardariki
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5/18/2009, 12:25 am
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Haldour
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Re: ruff waters
We all hate the light worshiper...
---
Ealdor of the Warband
After a thousand years of oppression
Let the berserks rise again
Let the world hear these words once more:
"Save us, oh lord, from the wrath of the Norseman"
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5/18/2009, 7:56 pm
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Ame Corthos
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Re: ruff waters
*Whew.*
Good thing I'm no light worshiper, then.
--- "Conflict is inevitable. Victory is not."
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5/19/2009, 9:50 pm
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