Fimbulvinter

[Steerpike]

Awesome! I'll figure out times I'm available soon and post a doodle, hopefully in the next couple of weeks.

Rhamnousia, it'll be great to have you aboard. Do you have any character ideas?

[sparkletwist]

Count me in, too. Good timing, too, I've finally gotten around to playing Skyrim (I got it for $3, and the number of nearly game-breaking bugs has made it worth about that to me so far) and it made me think of Fimbulvinter... :D

[Steerpike]

Great!

Playing Skyrim inspired Fimbulvinter originally. I'm surprised you've found that many bugs, that's too bad... I've run into the occasional glitch, but the vast majority of the time any sort of bug was pretty easily solved with a quick reload, and for the most part I simply didn't run into any (and I've sunk probably 100+ hours into it, so it's not like I didn't play it a lot). Maybe just bad luck, or an old version of the game? If you've got it on PC you might be able to find mods to fix some of that stuff. Like most Elder Scrolls games it has an absolutely massive modding community.

[sparkletwist]

I'm playing on Xbox 360, so unfortunately mods or console commands aren't an option. It did download a patch upon first starting the game, so the version is supposedly up to date. You're right that a reload does fix things, but the timing of the reload is sometimes problematic, especially if the glitch happened a way back and I have to go back to a save from near the beginning of the quest.

Anyway, to keep things (somewhat) on topic, my Skyrim character is primarily a mage, preferring to win fights by summoning, but she's not afraid to get in there with an axe if things get ugly. She's relatively new in town, but already owns a house and quite a bit of wealth, and a decent measure of respect in town. She generally goes with the most disrespectful or snarky of possibly responses.

Remind you of someone...? :grin:

[LoA]

Count me in, too. Good timing, too, I've finally gotten around to playing Skyrim (I got it for $3, and the number of nearly game-breaking bugs has made it worth about that to me so far) and it made me think of Fimbulvinter... :D

Some of my life rules are "never buy a Bethesda game on console, and then wait until it's been out for a few years so the modding community can do it's thing." Hence why I now own Fallout 3 and NV, and I'll be buying skyrim sometime as well.

[Rhamnousia]

My character concept is still pretty fluid at this stage but I was leaning towards a manhunting longbow-and-battleaxe ranger of some sort.

[Steerpike]

Sweet!

Here's a list of tribes for background purposes. Light Elves, Dwarves, and Trollbloods are also playable characters (we have had an Elf in the past, and currently have a Trollblood), but rarer. Tribe-wise we've had a pretty diverse party, including several Hrafnii and Blóðbards, a Kvenlander, an Ægirian, a Hrímlander (Trollblood), and occasionally an Austrogoth. You should feel free to play whatever you like. The party could definitely use an archer since Llum's archer/warpriest character has been out of things for awhile.

I should add that there are also various "foreign" peoples who would be viable, including people like Serklanders (Arabs), Fir Bolg, Cruthii, or Pechts (Celts of various sorts), Southrons (Italians, Greeks, generally southern Europeans), Thules (essentially Inuit), Skrælings (Native Americans, more or less), Hundings (Saxons, Lombards), Beormas (Russians), Neuri (southern Slavs), and Lygosians (Byzantines). The historical equivalencies are very imprecise.

I'll send you the other pertinent character-building info at some point.

[ic=Tribes of the North]Görnings

Renowned for their especially skilled Völvur, the Görnings are a reclusive tribe who dwell in the depths of the Slaughterstone Mountains.  In response to Fimbulvinter the Görnings have withdrawn further into seclusion, defending their lands with isolationist fervour.  Only those who approach with clearly peaceful intentions are allowed entry into their remote settlements.  Because of their seeresses the Görnings were better prepared for the endless winter than other tribes, and as such they began stockpiling food years in advance: thus they have endured the other atrocious famine sweeping all of Midgard better than most.  Their leader, King Sigmund, is said to be old and feeble, slowly dying of a mysterious sickness invulnerable to any spell, prayer, or medicine.  His three sons effectively rule in his stead.

Like most Völvur those of the Görnings spend much of their time wandering the Northlands, selling their services to households and villages.  Typically accompanied by a small retinue of bodyguards, these wandering shamanesses only return to their homes permanently when they are too old to continue their travels.  During Fimbulvinter, however, these pilgrimages have ceased, and those Völvur travelling between settlements have withdrawn back to the Slaughterstones – though a few remain in the snows, lost in the wilds or otherwise waylaid.

Görnings tend to have red and red-blond hair and eyes the colour of the sky – various shades of grey and blue.  Their warriors traditionally wear heavy mail and favour two-handed broadaxes, and many are also skilled archers.  They are amongst the most devout folk in the North, with rituals, sacrifices, feasts, and prayers occupying much of their time; many adorn themselves with amulets and talismans – representations of Mjolnir and rune-etched stones.  Their prominent Temple honouring Odin, Thor, and Frey is one of the few large, permanent centers of worship dedicated to the old gods of the North, and the Görnlands are scattered with sacred groves, often in hidden valleys.  Because certain tunnels through the Slaughterstone Mountains lead to Svartálfaheim, Homeworld of the Dvergar, Görnings have very occasional dealings with Dwarfs, the maggot-folk who festered in Ymir's putrid flesh, though they find the secularism of the "black elves" disturbing.

Blóðbards

Having descended into cannibalism and depravity, the once-proud tribe now known only as the Blóðbards (Bloodbeards) after the gore that mats their hairy faces terrorize the lands between Ironwood (abode of wolves and Trollspawn) and the river Gjöll (which is said to flow into Hel).  It is said that they have forsaken the worship of the Æsir and now revere Loki and other twisted powers, that they send infant babes sailing down Gjöll as sacrifices, and that they consort with the foul inhabitants of Ironwood, striking black bargains.  Certainly they conduct raids on other tribes and kidnap travellers, taking thralls for labour and food.

The Blóðbard king is the bastard and Seidman Ivar the Perverse, a sorcerer who poisoned his mother's husband, the former king, who believed Ivar his true-born son; the murder was accomplished with the aid of a rune-graven goblet able to turn water into venom.  Ivar, whose true father is variously said to be a Dark Elf, a Hel-Shade, or Loki himself, has thoroughly twisted the ways of the Blóðbards, using wicked arts to beguile and dominate his father's Jarls and other well-respected members of the community.  His corruption has spread, and now many of those under his command are warped shadows of their former selves, intent only on gratifying their animal lusts.  His feasting hall, called the Hall of Screams, is the site of obscene rites, and rumour holds that some of the thralls taken in Blóðbard raids are used by Ivar in unwholesome experiments conducted in ancient stone chambers beneath the hall.

Blóðbards are a lean, tall folk whose men inevitably sport long, frequently blood-spattered beards of fair (often white-blond) hair.  Many are heavily tattooed – once family crests and tribe symbols predominated, but now most Blóðbards have scorned tradition and mark themselves with runes to commemorate men killed, women raped, thralls enslaved, and similarly sinister deeds.  Many Blóðbards sharpen their teeth into points.  Their favoured weapons include various seaxes, halberds, and bearded axes, as well as weapons looted from the bodies of the slain.  Most wear scavenged bits and pieces of armour, though many have taken to adorning themselves in flayed human skins tanned into leather.

Hrafnii

Those who fly the raven banner and revere Odin's aspect as the Raven God before all others are known as the Hrafnii.  Marked by hair and eyes as black as the birds they take as their totem, the Hrafnii dwell in the Northeast near the borders of Kvenland, though bands ("Unkindnesses") of merchants, mercenaries, and adventurers have dispersed through Midgard.  Known for their skilled warriors and proud skaldic tradition, the Ravenfolk are also notorious for their gallows humour and their taste for treasure, an appetite which often lands them in trouble – more than a few Hrafnii thieves have found themselves declared a nithing or vargr, to be scolded and executed.  The Hrafnii king is Hrókr, a cunning man of middle years who bears the ancestral sword Cruelbeak, said to have been forged by Völundr the Smith – a strange, slightly curved blade of meteoric iron.

Like most peoples of Midgard the Hrafnii have been devastated by famine and cold.  A number have taken up as contract killers, bodyguards, hired blades, or simple bandits, though a few linger in their homelands, adorning their sacred trees with sacrifices in the form of hanged men in hopes of winning Odin's favour.  These latter dwell mostly in the fortified hill-city simply called Nest.  This now largely empty town is centred around the Tower of Wings, which holds dozens of birdcages: the Hrafnii reverence for ravens extends beyond banners and symbols, for they have trained many of the birds to carry messages.  When released from their cages far from home such ravens return to Nest, bearing scrolls round their legs.  It is said that the Gothi in Nest who tend the ravens can speak the tongue of birds as well.

Hrafnii favour throwing axes, short blades, and bows.  Their arrows are, of course, usually fletched with raven-feathers.  In general they wear lighter armour of hide, though a number have acquired metal armour from the swamp-dwelling Járnmenn.  Hrafnii women are considered exotically beautiful by many because of their dark colouration, and their Völvur sometimes keep white ravens as familiars.

Járnmenn

Making their homes in the Fens, a series of wetlands rich in bog iron, the Járnmenn produce many especially capable smiths and consequently have become quite affluent.  Though mines are not unknown in the North, smelting bog iron is far more common, and the Járnmenn produce a great deal of the iron used throughout the North.  Contending with Fossegrim, Huldra, Bog-Draugr, Swamp-Trolls, and Will-o'-the-Wisps on a regular basis, Járnmenn are a superstitious bunch who adorn their homes with oddments of iron (horseshoes, buried knives, talismans), which they contend holds evil spirits at bay.  Their current ruler is a queen, Kelda Mosblóð – her husband, king Erik, has been missing for the last year and a half, having disappeared on a hunting expedition.  He is presumed dead, but the Völvur say that the portents are uncertain, and Kelda insists he is alive.

Fimbulvinter has not been kind to the Járnmenn, having crippled a great deal of commerce throughout Midgard – the Járnmenn traded their iron and weapons for many things, including food, so when trade dried up a substantial portion of the population found themselves starving.  Mosquitoes and other insects – a food source for numerous animals in the Fens – usually hatch their eggs in the spring, after the snow melts; because of Fimbulvinter, the great majority never hatched, with devastating results for beasts in the swamplands.  As a result, hunting has been limited as well.  Consequently, many Járnmenn have fled the swamps for other lands, dispersing across the North and elsewhere.

Járnmenn are a pale, large-eyed folk whom unkind people say resemble toads due to their tendency to bandy-leggedness and their swampy homeland.  Many of their hunters are especially deft with throwing spears and short bows.  Some of their less scrupulous warriors have been known to poison their weapons, an act considered extremely dishonourable by most Northmen.  Rumour holds that a secret society of Seidmen thrives in the Fens, further tainting the reputation of the Járnmenn, though most consider this nothing more than wild talk.  Their habit of giving their dead to the Fens rather than burying or cremating them, as most do, has done little to help matters, however.

Austrogoths

Making their homes in the southernmost parts of the North, the Austrogoths are notable as the only tribe of Northmen to abandon the old gods in favour of the monotheistic Father, a queer Southron deity whose effeminate, perfumed priests now own substantial tracts of the Austrogothic kingdom.  Female captives taken in raids first introduced the Austrogoths to the Faith, which paved the way for missionaries.  Soon the Church had a foothold, and the Faith began to spread, culminating in the conversion of king Ælfric, called Ælfric the Lightbringer and Ælfric the Illumined (soon to be Saint Ælfric), great-grandfather of the current king, Ælfric II.  Shortly after the king's conversion, worship of the "heathen" deities was forbidden; the sacred groves were put to the torch to be purified by cleansing holy fire and replaced by stone churches.  The Völvur were declared "witches" and burned at the stake, and old stories and religious teachings were co-opted by the Church, rewritten to reconcile them with the Faith.  Performing a blót or other "pagan" ritual in Austrogothic lands is now punishable by fine or even death, though many persist secretly in the old ways, mouthing the occasional prayer or leaving discrete offerings.

Since Fimbulvinter began, the Austrogoths redoubled their efforts at religious purification, holding that the endless winter, rather than a sign of Ragnarök's imminence, is a punishment from the Father for the world's sins: if the world is able to redeem itself in the Father's eyes He will shine His holy light upon the land and melt the snows.  This belief has stirred many Austrogoths into a fanatical frenzy.  Mobs of frightened villagers lynch those suspected of witchcraft and heathen-worship.  Thieves, adulterers, and prostitutes are frequently impaled, drowned, or hung.  Meanwhile bands of pagan fighters leave the mutilated bodies of captured priests on desecrated altars, their ribs cut and broken and their lungs ripped out – a method of execution known as the Blood Eagle, sacred to Odin.

Austrogoths are mostly a fair-haired and pale-skinned people of sturdy build.  Swords are a far more common weapon for the Austrogothic warrior, though spears and axes still predominate; heavy mail and segmented plate armour is widely worn.  Many zealous converts wear icons of the Saints round their necks.

Kvenlanders

The eastern region of the North known as Kvenland is considered an alien, inhospitable place by most Northmen, and the Kvenlanders are often characterized as "savage bear-worshippers" and "uncouth reindeer-herders."  With unusual shamanic traditions and little agriculture, the Kvenlanders are widely regarded as primitives, though ironically their lack of dependence on grains means that they have endured Fimbulvinter better than most – as their herds feed mostly on cold-hardy lichens rather than grass, they have managed to keep themselves reasonably well-fed.  In the furthest, coldest reaches of Kvenland legend holds that mammoths still roam.

Kvenlanders are semi-nomadic, and with the worsening of Fimbulvinter some have drifted south and west, into marginally warmer climes.  They have many sorcerers amongst their numbers, and most Northmen consider them ergi (that is, unmanly and dishounorable).  If insulted in this manner most Kvenlanders simply laugh.  Kvenland shamanism is practiced by both men and women; shamans are known to commune with spirits and animals, heal the sick, and transform into beasts themselves, amongst other things.

The Kvenlanders have a number of customs which others find disturbing.  For example, certain bands of Kvenlanders have been known to leave virgin women on mountaintops during thunderstorms; after being struck by lightning, these women return to their kindred unharmed but pregnant with what the Kvenlanders believe to be the children of Ukko, god of sky and storms.  The offspring from these pregnancies, called Stormchildren, frequently possess uncanny powers.

Kvenlanders are a quiet lot; they tend to be rather insular, rarely marrying outsiders.  Like the Hrafnii they are darker of hair and eyes, though a few have dark gold hair.  Many of their weapons are of bone and stone rather than metal, and they adorn themselves with antlers and other bone trinkets.  Interestingly, while bears are sacred animals for the Kvenlanders, wolves are hated and feared, and Kvenlanders kill wolves on sight.

Ægirians

The supposed descendents of the sea giant Ægir, the hardy folk who dwell on the shores of Gandvik (called the Bay of Serpents) are feared from Kêr-Is to Avalon.  A tribe of rapacious raiders, ruthless pirates, and bold explorers, the Ægirians frequently go viking, assailing settlements and monasteries or preying on trade routes, loading their longships with treasure and slaves.  During Fimbulvinter the seas freeze often, somewhat dampening the Ægirian's piracy.  A few bands of the fierce warriors have journeyed across the ocean to the Skræling land in the distant west, hoping to find a place free of endless winter.  The roving groups of marauders who roam the snowy wastes often include an Ægirian or two – with the seas so often frozen, many have turned bandit.  In some cases whole Jarldoms have turned renegade.  Their current king, Hagbarð Isangrim, is said to spend much time in his hall brooding over past battles, too apathetic to reassert control over his wayward vassals.

The numerous thralls taken in battle by the Ægirians form a considerable part of their communities; in many cases thralls who have been freed remain in Ægirian villages, having grown accustomed to life amongst their captors.  Fir Bolg, Southrons, Thules, Skrælings, Hundings, Beormas, Neuri, and many other peoples labour for the Ægirians, though during the desolation of Fimbulvinter many have fled, escaping captivity in the chaos of this slow, cold apocalypse.

Ægirians claim to have Jötunn blood, and their great height and tendency to brawny muscularity corroborates this boast.  By turns mirthful and cruel, light-hearted and vicious, the Ægirians are mostly fair-haired or brown-haired, with pale eyes of green and blue and slate grey, the colours of the sea.  They favour war-hammers, heavy axes, and (for those of sufficient status) swords of various types.  The strength of their greatest warriors is the stuff of legend, and many berserkers can be found amongst them, a manifestation of what they call their "giant's temper."

Gyllirings

The Golden People, named for king Gyllir Greatmane, inhabit the great plains of Vigrith, where (it is said) the final battle at Ragnarök will occur.  Often called the Horse-Masters, the Gyllirings are a tribe of herdsmen and farmers widely famed as the best horsemen in the North, if not all of Midgard; few foes can stand against an onslaught of their cavalry.  As breeders and traders they became a wealthy tribe from the sale of their beasts.  During Fimbulvinter hundreds of Gylliring horses have died of famine and exposure, and hundreds more have been butchered for meat to feed the starving populace – without a proper harvest in two years the Gyllirings are suffering intensely, their grain stores growing as meagre as their herds.  The towns and villages of the plain now echo with the panicked neighing of dying beasts, a horrible chorus born on the icy winds that ripple over Vigrith; it is said that the wraiths of these slaughtered steeds haunt the plains at night, returned from the grave as Helhests bent on trampling their killers beneath their demonic hooves.

The Gyllirings are also troubled by packs of enormous wolves from Ironwood, which borders their lands.  Though such beasts have always plagued them, since Fimbulvinter began packs of these monstrous beasts have been growing larger and bolder, attacking horses and people alike.  With an abundance of money but dwindling horse-herds, the current king of the Gyllirings, Geirmund Greatmane, has declared that any man who brings a wolf-pelt to Hófnirhöll, the Hoof-Hall, will be paid good silver for it.  This bounty has attracted swarms of adventurers, hunters, and other travellers to the region, further destabilizing the realm – where such folk appear brawls, feuds, thievery, and all other manner of trouble likewise tends to crop up.  Shanty-towns and rough camps have sprung up across Gylliring lands, crude clusters of hide tents and hastily assembled wooden huts where hunters drink, wench, swap stories, and gamble with their newly acquired silver.

Væringjar

Those Northmen who have ventured into the east to the lands of the Neuri and Beormas, founding the kingdom called Garðaríki, are the Væringjar, a people who also travel frequently to the southeast, even to the very borders of distant Serkland and the great city of Miklagard, which the Southrons call Lygos, Queen of Cities. Indeed, a small group of hardened Væringjar warriors have served as the bodyguards of the Lygosian Emperors for several generations. The Væringjar were once an exceptionally wealthy tribe, having made their riches through the slave-trade and the silver-trade – slaves bought from the Ægirians and Hrafnii are exchanged for eastern silver. Many also deal extensively in furs, silk, amber, honey, and they are skilled boaters or "rothskarlar," controlling most of the rivers between the North and Miklagard, especially around the monster-haunted Midnight Sea. Many others are pirates and raiders; often the distinction between a Væringjar trader and a Væringjar pirate is not entirely clear.

Having interbred with easterners, Væringjar tend to have features some consider exotic, much like the Hrafnii, though Væringjar are sometimes more sallow of complexion. Perhaps the most enterprising of the Northerners, many have fled south during Fimbulvinter, seeking warmer climes where the frost has not yet devastated the land. With most of the rivers now frozen, once-profitable trade-routes have been abandoned, and many Væringjar have been forced to wander the cold eastern lands seeking new opportunities for profit. The Væringjar princes still endure in their distant fortresses – noble descendants of King Rorik, a legendary chieftain and founder of Holmgard.

Many Væringjar wear red, considered a lucky colour for them. Most keep to the old faith of the North and revere the Æsir and the Vanir, but some also honour the strange gods of the east, such as the Black God Chernobog, the smith-god Svarog, and the sky-god Perun, or even the Father, whose worship is common in Miklagard. Væringjar men are renowned for their lustful appetites and many concubines. The Væringjar dialect of North-Speech sounds strange to most Northern ears, peppered with Southron, Neuric, or Bjarmic phrases.

Laithlinders

Though the islands of Ériu and Avalon are mostly inhabited by their own peoples, Northmen have frequently raided such places, and on rare occasions established settlements there. Perhaps the largest of these are the Jarldoms – or Earldoms – of Laithlind. Realm of the Laithlinders, also called Tanglehairs or Weedhairs for the long, wind-blown manes so many of their ilk sport, Laithland is a series of rocky islands north of Avalon in the Sea of Skulls, though a handful of small holdings also cling to the rugged northern coasts of Avalon itself and even on the eastern shore of Ériu. Relatives of the Ægirians, the Laithlinders are a hardy, stalwart people, though generations of interbreeding with the indigenous folk of Arcaibh and Dalriada – Fir Bolg, Cruthii, and Pechts – have made them somewhat shorter than their Ægirian cousins, redder of hair and leaner of limb. They hold the Sea-Gods, the Sækonungar, in especially high esteem, especially Njörðr, god of wind, wave, and fishing. A hard, wind-chapped people scarred by decades of war with hill-tribes, renegade chieftains, and even rampaging Fomoire, twisted giants from under the sea, the Laithlinders were unified under the rule of King Godred, recently slain when his ship vanished during a voyage. Now his two sons, Guthfrith and Guðrum, war over what remains of Laithlind, dividing the kingdom into the Norðreyjar and Suðreyjar.

Laithlinders favour short bows, long-hafted sparðr or pale-axes, and two-handed swords. Most who settled the isles were originally reavers, but as colonies grew many have turned to fishing, brewing, herding, and hunting, often with dogs and falcons. Though most who dwell in the more settled parts of Laithlind no longer go viking as frequently as their forebears, they remain a tough and war-like folk.

Laithlind is a strange and perilous land, a place of rock and salt and stunted trees where shapeshifting Näcken and Bækhesten lure comely maidens and strong youths to watery deaths and sorcerous Finfolk kidnap fisherman, sacrificing them to dark gods and stealing their silver; where hunched Trowe fill the hills and the knowe-tunnels beneath them with their eerie tunes, and hungry, wolf-headed Wulver prowl the highlands; where the dread Stoor Worm swims, demanding virgin maidens lest it devour whole settlements, and slithering Beithirs writhe in flooded caves; where the pestilential Nuckelavee spreads its vile and manifold plagues. During Fimbulvinter, such creatures are becoming more aggressive in their encroachments on Laithlind.

Hrímlanders

Like the Laithlinders, Hrímlanders are island-dwellers, though they make their home on the frozen isle of Thule. Fleeing persecution and the despotic rule of kings, they have founded a curious society in Thule, essentially democratic in nature, organized around an Allthing, an assembly at which local chieftains and Gothi meet to make collective decisions with their Thingmenn with the aid of lawspeakers. Four Farthings of the Commonwealth of Hrímland, each ruled by nine Gothar, are spread throughout Thule. This decentralized system has ensured peace and prosperity for generations, the only conflict being that between the Hrímlanders and the Thules themselves, enigmatic indigenes of the island, skilled sailors, archers, and whalers who harry the Hrímlanders at every turn. Escaped thralls – mostly Pechts and Fir Bolg – also plagued the Northmen, although uprisings were usually suppressed easily. And, of course, a few Northmen who dared venture into the queer ruins within the Moaning Mountains vanished every now and then, or returned mad and gibbering from those strange, rime-crusted halls, thought to be the cities of the Huldufólk, a race of Elves who many believe once dwelt on Thule.

All this has changed during Fimbulvinter. Thule, already cold, is now so barren and wind-swept as to be almost utterly inhospitable. While the days are short throughout the north, Thule has no sunlight at all, only dim twilight, as if the great warg Sköll had already devoured the sun; the ever-present shimmer of the Northern Lights bathes the land with strange colours. The Farthings are at war, chieftains bickering with one another, fighting over food, thralls, and land. Where borders and claims were once respected, now warlords subsume the domains of lesser clans. Ice has made leaving Thule increasingly difficult, and many have died risking the journey; those not killed by storms or mired in ice are often snatched by the Krakens and Lyngbakar breeding in great numbers in the Sea of Skulls. Thules and voracious Marmennill raid the Hrímlander settlements with increasing frequency, the former using strange magic to summon patchwork monsters known as Tupilak to aid in their assaults, the latter charming sea-serpents and other creatures to fight for them.

Hrímlanders usually have brown or blonde hair and are generally considered a fair people. Most keep to the old faith but some of the chieftains have turned to worship of the Father; indeed, before the Hrímlanders came to Thule a handful of Fathermen dwelt in a monastery on the coast, and taught their beliefs to some of the first colonists. Many Hrímlanders have a particular reverence for local spirits and Vӕttir, worshipping them as devoutly as the do the Gods. Like many Northmen, they keep thralls in considerable numbers.

Vinlanders

Those few Northmen who have ventured across the oceans to the west to far-off Vinland are generally known as Vinlanders, though they come from many different tribes – mostly Laithlinders, Ægirians, Görnings, and Hrímlanders. Many were originally exiles from the North, outlaws and desperate men banished from their homelands, cast into the uttermost west; others are daring explorers driven by wanderlust. Together these colonists carved out a life for themselves – hunting caribou, growing barley, and wine-making. During Fimbulvinter, however the caribou have mostly been devoured by wolves, the crops are failing, and the grape-vines bear no fruit. Famine in Vinland is even more extreme than it is in the North, and now most of the settlements that once dotted the shores of these lands are abandoned, their residents dead or fled. Many are now returning as best they can, braving the frigid seas in longships packed with Skræling thralls and possessions – sometimes passing vessels from the North fruitlessly hoping to find warmer lands to the west.

Those few who remain in Vinland face many perils. Skræling tribes in the region war with one another and with the Northmen, some possessed by cannibal spirits known a Wendigo. Most Vinlanders who remain in their adopted homeland subsist almost entirely on salmon and those few provisions they have managed to preserve, along with quantities of wine once bound for the North. Cannibalism of necessity has become widespread, as with the Blóðbards; it is said, also, that as few families remain, prohibitions against the marriage of brother and sister have been abandoned in Vinland, resulting in children cursed by the gods with deformities. Because of their frequently criminal origins, Vinlanders are generally thought of as untrustworthy and cruel, and as drunkards, though the same can be same of many Northmen during these dark days before Ragnarök.

Frakklanders

Descendents of Northmen who conquered the Southron realm of Gallia, Frakklanders are not always considered "true" Northmen; like the Austrogoths, many have forsaken the old gods and embraced worship of the Father and His Saints, most have abandoned North-Speech in favour of a dialect of the Southron tongue, and they have interbred extensively with the Galli they conquered. Under the leadership of Queen Wilhelmina the Vanquisher, the Frakklanders achieved several victories in southern Avalon, just before the onset of Fimbulvinter. Renowned for their piety, their cunning, and their military innovations, Frakklanders are a strange mixture of fervent devotion and pragmatic ruthlessness. Their brutality and efficiency are legendary, and they display a love of fighting rivalled only by the battle-lust of the Ægirians. Many Frakklanders joined the Winter Crusade, a military campaign to retake certain sacred places in lands to the distant east.

The Frakklanders have abandoned many customs of the North; in lieu of chieftains, villages, Gothi, and Jarls, they have adopted a feudal system of vassalage and manors in which knights swear their allegiance and pledge military service to lords in exchange for fiefdoms. They no longer keep thralls, but serfs tied to the land of their lords fulfill much the same role. Frakklanders favour crossbows, flails, maces, swords, and lances, as well as heavy shields and scale mail. Though many have the fair hair of Northmen, others have the darker colouration of Southrons.

Now that eternal winter grips the land, the conquests of the Frakklanders are slipping. Colonies gained in Avalon and elsewhere have been overtaken by rebels, and in Frakkland itself lords fight one another in defiance of their King while knights forsake their oaths, turning to banditry and plunder. Like Astrogothaland to the east, Frakkland has experienced great religious turmoil, some doom-saying clergymen leading peasant mobs in pillage while bishops call for a new crusade back into the North to "purge" the land of its pagan inhabitants, whose heathenism, they claim, has brought the current disaster upon the world.[/ic]

[Kindling]

So it's great that the game's picking back up... but I'm not gonna be around an internet connection for most of the summer, so I'm not gonna be able to join in the fun. You lot enjoy though :)

[Steerpike]

I won't have a ton of time this summer, Kindling, so you probably won't miss too many sessions. I'm sure the party won't take on Ivar without you!

[sparkletwist]

Dagny's second curse-dream was even more intense than her first, and she's rather concerned that it's only going to get worse. So she's probably going to take a short break from adventuring in order to research some way of breaking the curse, hopefully with Brunn's help. It seems reasonable that Ragnvaldr might want to be at her side, which is a convenient excuse to remove him from play for a short time. (And a convenient excuse for me to play Vintersdottir for a while!)

[Steerpike]

Here's a link for planning the next session.

[Weave]

This was probably mentioned, but what time zone are the times in?

[Steerpike]

No worries! Pacific Time.

[sparkletwist]

I have Doodled!

(As an aside, anywhere I marked 12:00 pm, I could actually make it earlier, like 10:30 am would be perfectly doable for me. Just not 9, which is why I didn't mark that one)

[Steerpike]

Ack, I sincerely thought I was going to have time for this but I'm under sudden crunchtime. Sadly I'm going to have to delay. Sorry everyone!