3. It Came From the Great Glacier

It Came From the Great Glacier


  • Login: Hazardous_Moose
    Character: Einar Sveinsson

    A chill wind burst through the frozen mountains. Einar had to stop for a moment to remain standing, using his massive greataxe as support. He could barely keep his eyes open through the snow and the driving wind, but it would be hard to miss the gargantuan mountain range that lay before him. He glanced back, over his shoulder, at the glaciers he knew as home.

    You are to be tested, Einar.

    That is what the tribe elders had said. They had been given signs by “Uthgar himself” that Einar was meant for something greater. At least, so they said. The platinum blonde-haired barbarian gave a snicker and continued on his way, facing down the harsh winds. The cold barely bothered him; when one lives in glaciers, one finds nearly anything warmer. Especially the warmth of a woman. But he managed to put that thought aside, following an icy trail that led inside the mountain before him. The tunnel opened up into a vast cavern decorated with ancient stones and icicles along the walls. There was also a presence here; something Einar could not deny. He held his axe before him, casting a searching glance around the seemingly empty cavern. Nothing. Yet he could not shake the feeling from him. Perhaps the spirit of the Grey Wolf? But it would not reveal itself, and so Einar strapped his weapon to his back and continued on, leaving the cave.

    He was headed for Narfell, to find out what had become of one decidedly loopy tribe elder. It was what the other elders had wished, and Einar would never turn down an opportunity to show his strength. But he had a feeling this was more of an excuse for the tribe to be rid of him, at least for a year or so. He was a rather promiscuous glacial barbarian. Einar smirked, which grew into a chuckle as he struggled down the mountain, fighting the harsh wind with every step. He hoped there might be something worthwhile in the lands of Narfell; the trip back home was not something Einar was looking forward to. He would be happy to never see his tribe again if he found these lands to be interesting. And he had heard many things.

    Eventually the mountain of a man came to one last hill, on a clear day. Behind him lay the Giantspires, more mountains, and the Great Glacier. Before him, a city surrounded by hills. In preparation for the journey he had picked up common, and he had a fairly good grasp on it. He earned strange looks as he entered the city nonetheless, because of both his heavy accent and his appearance. Einar was taller than most, at least in Peltarch, and he wore clothing rather stereotypical of a barbarian. It complimented his muscles as well, a prominent feature of his. His skin was rough and tanned from his upbringing, and a confident grin completed the image of a man tough in both mind and body. Einar wandered around the city for some time, finding it very entertaining. By nightfall he had made friends with a few women of the night, naively enough, but he was puzzled when they wanted gold after (as he called it) “having fun” with them. However, he didn’t care much for gold, mostly because he did not understand the value of it, and he gave them what gold he had on him. Apparently it was quite enough, and after some more fun Einar headed for the Rawlinswood to make a quick search for the missing tribe elder. He decided this was a very interesting land, indeed.


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