Under the raven banner (A Norse Scandinavia AAR)

[Herbert West]

Well, I intended to write more story-wise, but got cought up with my godi
I hope you like it. Tomorrow, the rituals will take place.

Khaosliege: Odal: Law of inheritance, it is.
I hope the story is not too linear and shallow story-wise. I try to be original, but so many thing have been written down already.
And this is for you.

Edit: woot, page two.
Edit two: Woot^2, more than 400 views. I feel proud
Edit three: Sveinbjörn was a real person, the founder of the modern Asatru church. While I disagree with a lot of his views about the Gods (particulary some do-gooderish wiccan influences :spits, I hope his time in Helheim is a plesant one. (He is one of the few persons I hope Odin or Freya make exception of, and let them itno their halls after death)
Edit four: thanks for everyone woh reads, and double thanks to the few commenters.

[Legolas]

Just read it. Awesome, I must say. Combining Therion/Amon-Amarth/any-other-viking-themed-metal-band with mythology is not difficult, but putting everything on a Victoria AAR - now that's an achievement. Keep it up!

[Vassili]

One Rode to Asa Bay

BATHORY RULES!

Awesome AAR, compliments!

[Herbert West]

Offret

The same night, near the hamlet, on an open plain

Bureus had followed the noise to its origin. Looking out from the deep woods he saw a great clearing. There were many man dancing around a great fire, all clad in age-old armour, holding their war axes in their hands and swirling around the fire with loud clanks of metal uopn metzal, followed by even louder growls and yells.

The old man deared not to move, but, as his sight sprang from one warrior to another, he noticed that the sky in the horizom was starting to glow with a light he had never seen before.

The vikings noticed this chnage as well. One by one, they slowed down their dance, and then stopped in their tracks, the snow on thier backs colouring their armour with white stripes, the sweat from their brows dropping into pearls of ice into the white below their feet. Then, when all stopped, they all looked up at the illuminated nightsky.

Odins valkyres have blessed us! - yelled a loud voice Bureus recognized from the longhouse. And with these words, he took a drinking horn from somewhere Bureus could not see, and took a sip from it, than reached it to the berserker next to him. One by one, they all took sips from the horn. When it reached back to Þórri, he threw the mead into the falmes, and then cast the horn after it as well.

Then, the flames reached higher than the highest trees of the forest, their heat rivaling those of Surtr. The warriors resumed their monotonic dance, their speed ever-increasing, their cries louder, their thumps heavier than before. They circled and circled the flames, and bureus could see int the near-day light that their eyes were no longer looking at anything in this World.

Þórri was the first to enter the rage. He threw down a lot of his armour in the previous circles, but now, all he was wearing was the fur of a bear. His mouth was foaming, and his whole body was shaken by the power of the Bear Spirit.

He let out a loud growl, and began to circle closer to the bonfire. Soon, other berserkers would join him, barefooted in the frozen snow, in a posture more resembling of a standing bear than a grown man.

Even others were wearing wolf-skin, and were circling even closer to the flames than their bear-clothed breathern.

The thumps of the crowd gave off a monotone, mesmerising beat, Bureus had to use all his concentration to remain of clear mind. The yelling of the warriors reached a level that the loudest battle could not rival, their cries turning into animal growl and screams and yells, their toes digging themselves deeper into the snow with every step, their hands closed to fists or opened to claw-like rippers. The crackle of the fire and the crackle of the snow were almost rivaling the sound of the bear-man and ulfhednar, when with a sudden thunder, everything stopped.

Then, the man yelled with the noise of a thousand cannons, jumped into the fire, to emegre on the other side. Unscathed.

The berserkers, and the ulfhednar were ready.

Bureus, still mesmeized from the ritual, got to his feet, and went back into the longhouse, with weary and half-numb limbs and with a mind confused and awed from what he had seen.



A stone-circle, the next morning

Though his sleep was light at best after he had watched the ritual, the old kaballist stood strongly before the godi in the snowed circle. He moring mist was still clearing up, and he saw only a few of the stones.

Welcome, traveller. Now, it is your time to pass the Ritual.

As the godi spoke these words, the mist revelaed a lone stone at the center of the ring. Bureus recognised it immidiately, though he had only seen it in a dream.

As if he had read the alchemists mind, the wise man nodded.
Yes, these are powerful runes, but they will serve the last day of their duty now. Our hamlet is old, our will to live is growing weaker. For many hundered years, we have waited, gathered what we could of the Old Faith, protected it agaist those few who journeyed here, have made maps and drawing of our holy places, have preserved The Runes, and stood our guard. But now, af the Dreams Freya sent me have told us, our time is at an end. Here is the rest of our tomes, guard them wisely. -with this, he gestured towards another pile of stones, leather and metal tablets, like those the kinmgs tutor received the day before. Then, he fell into a deep chant.

O, I am a man and I hold in my hand my fate
Free as the wind as if even
I had wings that carried me
Still in the middle of the night
Even I will need light to guide me
So I turn my face to the sky from
Where he with one eye is watching over me

My fathers' gods - I ride for you
My fathers' gods - I fight for you
My fathers' gods - I die for you
My fathers' gods - I am coming through to you
My fathers' gods - I am yours

Through blood by thunder

By the time he murmured the last words, the snowstrom than was brewing from the beginnig of his chant was turning the whole world into a swirling ocean of white. As he said these words, he took a long stone knife from his clothings and cut down the offering, a pig Bureus had not noticed till the moment of its death-wail. He mixed its blood with the mead of a drinking horn, and reached the horn to Bureus, gesturing him to drink it all.

The kaballist drank the sweet, steaming mixture, and his world fell black.

The godi wrote the sacred runes with blood on Bureus' forehead before falling unconscious on the snow.


The Dreamspace


Bureus saw the stone-cricle, but not in the age-ridden state he saw in a few moments ago, but in the time of its pride, all stones soaked in sacrificial blood, all runes glowing with power.
Quickly, traveller, we do not have much time before I will walk Hels Halls! Look carefully, listen with open ears, and be quiet.

The godis voice was stronger, younger than it was back in the snow. Finishing his dream-words, he drew many stange and powerful runes into the air, their marks glowing long after his finger had started to write another one. He told Bureus of many secrets, of many power, of many enemies and few allies Man had left in this World. His words echoed powerfully in the misty emptiness of the Dreaming, creating reflections of times long past, deeds long forgotten, songs long unsung. This knowledge could not be written down, could not be told it the real world, for the tounge of Man can only say the few words Man has been thaught. After a time that seemed to strech on for hour, the godi finished his work, and a very awed Bureus had to listen to his parting words.

You are now the godi of all our people. Your shoulders cary a great burden. May all our Gods watch your steps.

Upon hearing this, Bureus awoke, the lifeless body of the wise man beside him, covered with red snow.


A group of man approacheds him. He recognised them from the night. They were the berserkers and the ulfhednar, all clad in their finest armours, bowing before him.

Johan Of Uppsala, you are now our godi. We will now defend your life at the cost of ours, and follow you whereever you go! -shouted Þórri.

It took Bureus many minutes to come back to his senses, but when he did, he felt stronger, wiser than ever, and felt all the knowledge of his predecessor swirling in his mind. He was now truly ready.


Well into the night, in the hamlet


The new godi carried out his tasks with a familiar feeling. He packed all the knowledge written down, and told the berserkers to prepare for the final Ritual of the day. The people of the hamlet were also prepared. They had long accepted Orlong, and all knew this would not be avoided. Those, who had once been warriors took out their old aromur, polishing them for one last display. The rímur-singer sang songs of great heroes and great deeds. The woman were slaughtering what little lifestock remained in the hamlet and prepared portions for those who would travel. The children were cleaning the old moss and dirt from the century old stones that formed a ship-like line around the small village. By nightfall everything was complete.

The first fire was started in the longhouse, its roof bursting with flames despite the snow. Slowly, all houses, shacks, and everything in the hamlet was on fire. The last thing to burn was the tree at the center of the village, its high stem standing out of the stone-ship like a mast.


Bureus and his guardian warriors were watching form the clearing, in silence. The silence was reflected by those still in the hamlet. Not a cry was heard, not a door was ripped open in an attemt to flee the Flames Of Surtr. All had died without even a silent whisper. It was a worthy funeral for the last town of the Old Believers.

By midnight, the cinder was beginnig to fade out from the relentless cold of the still-raging snow-storm. The new godi and his companions turned their backs upon the remains, and set forth towards Uppsala, again.

Halls Of Freya

Finally, the once-been iwarriors of the village were joined with their blood-brothers.

Freya was smiling strongly, Odin was laughing with all his heart, and Thor was praising the recently fallen with songs he had not sung since the Great Summer Army arrived in Asgard.

[Herbert West]

Legolas, Vassili, thanks for the comments.

Silent readers: de-silent thyselves

Im going away on the weekand, which means that I will write an update tomorrow (or rather, today), and then no update for two days.

[Jape]

How did I miss this?

Great stuff amigo, very nice mix of Norse mythology, intrigue and of course Nordic Metal!

Always a treat. You officially have a subscription.

[Khaosliege]

Khaosliege: Odal: Law of inheritance, it is.
I hope the story is not too linear and shallow story-wise. I try to be original, but so many thing have been written down already.

Okay, now the meaning is much more clear!

I deeply liked the last two chapters of your work, very inspired and inspiring!

However if the goal is to be less linear,it may be the time to leave Bureus for a short time and look for some other character...

Well, in any case good job.

Now I have to go to work but in the future I will like to discuss with you some point ragarding ritual drinks...

[Herbert West]

Sorry, no updates today or in the weekend:S

[Lord of Pain]

Did you start this AAR because you saw the raven banner I posted it in OT?

[Herbert West]

Did you start this AAR because you saw the raven banner I posted it in OT?

Nah, I long wanted to do something like this, but the last kick was probably the Therion concert a week ago

Right now, I am at my parents house, so no mood for updating .

Anyways, I will follow Khaoslieges question, and will write the next update from another viewpoint.

[Lord of Pain]

Nah, I long wanted to do something like this, but the last kick was probably the Therion concert a week ago

Oh, okay Damn you for not letting me have an impact on your life!

[Herbert West]

At least one, but possibly two updates coming today.

[Minodrin]

This is a really interesting AAR.

Just curious, does Sweden start with Finnish culture in Ricky-VIP, or can you get by an event? You get the Norwegian and Danish cultures when(if) you form Scandinavia, right?

[Herbert West]

No idea, VIPR is running veeeery slowly, I might simply ask someone who is skilled in modding to write me some events that modifiy religion and give cores (I intend to make a Greater Heathen Scandinavia)

[Herbert West]

Nattens Madrigal I

Deep in the Northern Woods, ten days later, in a nightly camp


Þórri was beginning to tire. He and his kind had protected the Godi on his journey, had guided him on these man-free ways for many days. The Bear-Father gave him his keen senses, and he saw trough his eyes, smelled trough his noses, and heard trough his ears. For many days now, the group heard the protective howl of great bears around their nightly camp. Almost the whole of the forest was guarding them on their perilous jurney.

And yet, the powers of a berserker are not endless, even when helped by the Great Bear. He had to rest, and let one of the ulfhednar lead the group on the rest of the way.

The forest felt this as well, and an lonely wolf made its way towards the fire of the ulfhednar. Bureus, now a sacred man of many worlds, was sitting at the very same fire, and almost sprang up at the sight of the lagre beast, were it not for the strong , but unharming grip of the leader of the wolf-cald man, Per Yngve. The muscular wolf-kin stood up silently, and followed the great wolf into the woods, as was tradition, as it has been done for many centuries.

Though Bureus knew now of all these rituals, he was still amazed at the eerie silence with which the whole ritual took place.


A mile away, deeper in the forest, half an hour later



Yngve had cast away all his armour and weapons at the edge of the camp, entering after the wolf only clad in thick leather and fur. He followed the wolf for many steps, until the wolf turned, gnarled at him, and then vanished into the darkness.

He crouched down, and awaited the call of the Great Wolf Mother.

And when it came, his world vanished with a loud gnarl. He threw himself on all fours, the power and senses of the Wolf commanding him to do so. He felt his inner self becoming more and more like a wolf, his mind no longer thinking in the patterns of Man, but in the patterns of Nature. The gift of the wolf-spirit, his "totem", was growing ever stronger, submarging the spirit of Yngve, the man.

A loud yell left his mouth, and the trance was complete. His once-human, limited smell could now feel all the scents and tracemarks in the forest. His ears now heard even the tiny scribblings of insects buried deep under the snow. His eyes looked at the world with the viciousness of a hunter looking for its prey. He bit a part of the snow underneath him, and felt the age of the water on his tounge, felt the unwritten and unsung stories, the long-forgotten Great Sea in the taste of that one mouthfull of white.

Still on all fours, he ran, wolf-like, towards a den he knew the pack of this forest used. After only a few moments of anilaistic sprinting, he saw the snow-covered entrance, and yelled before it.

The leader of the pack, an old, strong male came forward, and locked his wolf-eyes with the wolf-kin. They traversed in a way no human will ever be able to read. Then, nodding towards the pack, Per ran away, still on all fours. The pact was made, the Wolf Mother had been kind. These wolves would protect and goude them for the rest of their journey.


The camp, near dawn

The úlfhéðinn arrived at the camp with snow-and-dirt-covered clothes, seemingly unexhausted from the trance. He lay almost an hour in the cold snow outside the camp after the the wolf-self submerged itself again, and allowed Yngve to become himself again, only the wolfs keen senses remaining, the rest of his animus sleeping again. His man were already prepared, the camp-site quickly dismantled by their skilled hands. They reched his armour to him, but he refused. The Wolf would be his only protection on this track from now on.

Bureus gestured the young man to come to him.

Will the wolves protect us, Per?
The Wolf-Moher is guarding us, my godi. We are safe.

As if to underline his words, the wolves that were slowly cricling around the camp yelled aloud in unison, a sign that they would uphold the pact.

Yngve worked his way forward in the camp, and gestured the man to follow him. As he took the lead, he felt the secents and sight and sound of the forest flood his animal senses anew, and the Wolf-Self from within his anima guided his steps on the difficult terrain. A lone, snow-white wolf was guarding their way before him.

Uppsala was only two weeks away now.

[stnylan]

A very intriguing storyline thus far.

[Herbert West]

Thank you, and a silent woot for passing the 800th view mark.

Sorry for the lack of the promised two updates, real life is a hectic mess right now.

[Herbert West]

Seelenfeurer

Night camp, a days walk away from Uppsala


His companion were his guide during their track back from the now-burnt village, but he was their guide on the last three days. Yet, he felt as if the most dangerous part was still ahead of them.

He left Uppsala as a searching man, riding a horse and wearing the garments of a court alchemist. Now, he returned as the godi of all of his people, christian or Old Believer, dressed in leathers and furs and with marks of the long treck on his face. And he was not alone. This gave him the most of discomfort. How would he explain the presence of more than fifty armed man who could have stepped out of codex of the Old Times?



Sitting in another fire-circle as the old kaballist, Þórri's mind wandered far while his eyes stared into the flickering flames. Not long ago, he only knew the forest and his village. He never journeyed further than a weeks walking from his home, except for his initiation rite, and out of those two month, he only remembered a few moments. He felt more, though, but he did not remember the explicit origin of those feelings.

And now, his world had been set aflame. His village burned to the ground, even though he knew this was how it had to be. Those of his companions, who were not warriors, were now feasting in Hels Halls, the songs of the old rímur-singer would never again soothe the pain in his heart, never again lift his spirit, never again tell him of ages long forgotten. He had quarrels with the old godi, especially about this new visitor, but he missed the voice that dripped the pearls of knowledge into his young ears every night in the old longhouse. He knew all this had to happen. He knew that he had to lead his man and this new godi into the city of Uppsala. He knew that he had to accept the burning of one world, so that another could be born out of its ashes. But those ashes were the ashes of the life he knew, Loki be damned!
He knew, but he felt it hard to believe.



Yngve was pondering about the changes as well, as he sat around the fire with his wolf-kin. He senses of the wolf were slowly fading again, the need for them evaporating as Uppsala came closer. He was very excited about the city he had never seen. He had heard the stories about ancient Milkagard from his godi back in the hamlet, and he had listened closely to the words Bureus spoke about the cities and marvels of Svealand.

He missed his home, missed it very much, but he excitement of something new, and the acceptance that it had to be so made it easier for him.

He was russtled from his mind-wandering by one of his man shaking his shoulders and helping him stand up. He looked around and saw Bureus bidding
Þórri and a few other berserkers to sit with him, and then, the new godi gestured towards Yngve and his group. He told his best man to follow him, and assured the others to remain calm.


Bureus did not really know what to do now, and hoped that this council would help him find an answer to his questions.

We are now only a day away from Uppsala.
Yes, we have seen the signs, godi. What will we do in the city? -asked the more straightforward Yngve.
The King expect me to arrive alone. Your arrival would cause a great confusion and uproar. I have to ask you to staya outside the city.
I did not travel all this way, I did not leave behind everything to cour in the woods like a common thief! - Þórri shouted.
If you enter the city now, with me, you will have to fight the kings army!
Then we shall!- interupted Þórri.
And then everything we have worked for, everything your home has been burned for will be in vain. Be patient!
You are the godi, and I have to accept your judgement. We shall wait, but how, and where?
I suggest we set up a camp on that clearing we saw in the afternoon, Þórri -replied Yngve.
Well then, tell your man that we bulid a camp at dawn. - with these words, the berserker turned and walked away from the small council, his kin following him.
Forgive him, he has still got the bears rage in his veins, my godi.

Bureus nodded to this with a troubled expression, then watched the ulfhednar make their way back to the fire again. The meeting may have been light-worded, but he heard and felt the stroms raging in everyones heart. Would this new world be worth the sacrifie of everything they had known?


The old kaballist shook his head, banishing those troubles for some time. He still had a christian King to convince.

[stnylan]

He better be pursuasive then.

[Herbert West]

Dont worry, the story is now at about 1605, he will have plenty of time
(Can you see the image now?)