The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Letter to Katrina
The Saga of Svenn Olafsson

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The Gods have abandoned us!
Kidnapped!

This morning I woke, and prayed at the camp like any other day. I prepared the oatmeal for the morning's feed. I found a bunch of fresh berries while out praying, which flavored the oatmeal just right. What a good day. That is what i continued to think. I found a few old midwives' tools while digging, and the gruffly handsome guard I had been flirting with complimented my cooking! Out of nowhere bursts a gruff looking Ulfen. I did not understand the following conversation between my crush and the savage, but the words were heated, and the savage calmed. He left, and came back with a huge guy and a strange woman. Things were calm, the two Ulfen men excused themselves, to do wash. They promptly returned, murdered our protector, and herded us like cattle onto their strange ship. I was luckier than Katrina, the biggest of the Savages claimed me as his prize. Oddly my captor seems singularly obsessed with communication and not much else. He does not make me row like the others, even poor Katrina has to row. I fear for our future, and pray for our safe liberation.

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They Worship Death, But Damn They Can Cook
The Saga of Svenn Olafsson

Me, Ingrod, Althjof and Gunnar decided to walk around the Island. We could see some smoke rising, just small enough to be a camp fire. We told the others to secure the boat and prepare an encampment at the shore. Who knows, we may need to leave in a hurry. After a little while we found a trail. Althjof was scouting ahead for us; that little dragon-lizard-thing is quick and quiet. He alerted Ingrid that there was someone ahead. Looks like he was taking a piss.

After some senseless conversation and who is fucking who, I decided to go on down to where the guy is and see what is going on. I told everyone else to stay just far enough behind me to be ready for a charge while not being seen. I saw the guy, and about six other people wearing robes. Their heads were shaved, and there was all kinds of weird tools – apparently for digging. Ingrid talked to the guy and he speaks a weird language that only Ingrid can understand. However, he also speaks our language, rather crudely, but, at least we can understand the bastard.

He told us he is just a mercenary that was hired to protect these death cult people, and they are digging up all kinds of artifacts that supposedly prove their prophecies correctly. Sounds like the misgivings of Loki or the misguidance of Hel to me. They gave us this stew, soup, stuff that tasted so damned good. Gunnar and I decided we needed to take a piss. I left my sword and shield at my seat so nobody would think anything. I apparently worked. I also learned there was a bucket for washing laundry. I went to get it. I think it's wash-day, then again, I rarely ever know what day it is.

Gunnar and I decided these people would make fine slaves. Our slaves. They weren't entitled to possible weregild. They were all for the taking in our opinion. I ran towards the mercenary and smashed the bucket full of water and laundry upside his head. It broke and he fell over backwards. Without missing a beat, Gunnar plunged his sword so deeply into his stomach I think it stuck into the ground below him. Needless to say, he died. We turned around, and the robed people were scared shitless. I will say they did exactly as we said as we marched them towards our boat.

We also had them carry all of their cooking equipment. I want to eat some of the stew again.

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There is Land Ahead
The Saga of Svenn Olafsson

We headed back to Jutland. We turned over our prisoners for a possible weregild. We gained two extra hands as some proof of our positive exploits circulated around the village. We headed back on our journey and encountered a whale, which was being followed by the largest jellyfish I have ever seen. Out of nowhere, a huge shark leaped out of the water, with jellyfish in his maw. I have to admit, it startled me a bit.

We ignored the shark, we let him be. I didn't feel like being desert, and neither did any of the other members of the crew. The waters calmed, we lifted the sail. One of the other crew began fishing. He snagged the largest yellow-fin tuna I think that ever existed. It actually yanked him out of the boat. Gunnar got a chance to flex his muscles by not only reeling the fish in, but picking it up with a net and throwing it into the boat. He then chopped its head off with that huge sword of his.

Another crew member prepared some extremely tasty stew with the tuna. We broke out some ale. We sang some songs. This is the life for me.

And then, when we were still talking about our previous encounter… we see land ahead.

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The Skalds Would Speak of This for 100 Years
The Saga of Svenn Olafsson

We begun our journey sailing southeast towards Varisia – after finding out from our druid friend that Cheliax was most likely responsible for the attack upon us. Everything was smooth sailing. It was great to smell the salty sea air, feeling the wind blow through our hair and mists of waves splashing us in the face. I have longed for this moment for many years. To finally be really doing it is to truly feel alive. About a couple of hours into our journey, we were met by some other Ulfen naysayers. They were heading right toward us, and were armed. I told the boat captain to meet them head on, so we can figure out exactly what they want.

They slowed down very close to us and tethered our ship to theirs. They placed a plank on the ledge of both of our ships and a few began to walk across. After some meaningless diplomacy from Ingrid, I decided enough was enough, and I kicked the plank off our boat, sending them crashing into the water below. One of them, of course, made it back onto their boat in the nick of time. Some began jumping onto our vessel, however, more than half of them couldn't make the leap, and fell into the water. After defeating the few that came aboard, Gunnar and I jumped into their boat, and turned the tables on them. We pushed the remaining people over the edge and our crew began roping them up as prisoners, or else they'd drown as their armor weighed them down.

While all of this was happening, that little serpent of Ingrid's was biting their leader in the balls. Brave little thing, I'll say as much. But it worked. We captured all of them, except the ones that drowned. We killed a couple of course – nobody's perfect, after all. But we are now in possession of their boat and provisions, which means we can head back to Jutland, sell our prisoners off for weregild, and return the ship that we borrowed. Life is good after all. The battle was swift and remotely painless. It felt good to really fight after all these years of training.

I only wish my father were still alive to see me do it.

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Cold in the Cold Iron Earth, Olaf Lies
The Saga of Svenn Olafsson

Jarl Borg held a Thing and let us know of an attack upon our village. My father was among those that died in the ambush. He was a good man at arms, and I know he fought bravely, despite being on a fishing expedition. The Jarl will not commit to a retaliation assembly, but stated he will not interfere with that that wish to do so upon their own merit. My childhood friend, Gunnar Bjornsson, also lost his father. We made a promise to each other that we will avenge our fathers one thousand times over. Blood must be spilled.

We gathered our belongings and had a feast at the Mead Hall. Who knows, it may be our last. We enjoyed the best we could get; honey roasted boar, raisin and pine brewed mead, grilled corn and buttered potatoes – a meal fit for a king. We met a young lady there, Ingrid Vigdisdottir, and she is a slightly off one. She has a pet serpent named Althjof. No doubt she is one of those women that dance naked deep in the forest singing forbidden songs around a campfire. But, she is cute enough, and seems to know her way. We could use all available hands. We also met up with some friendlies that lost some loved ones. Asmund, Balder, Calder, and Torsten will accompany us and have secured a boat for our journey.

We met up with all parties interested, just enough to man the boat. We will set sail in the morning. I'm hazy from mead. I'm anxious for blood. I want to sleep so this day will be over with quicker. When I awake, my true saga begins. People will remember me. People will fear me. People will know that my father's death only awakened the dragon within me.

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