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Asgeir Compendium

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1/24/2015 21:26:02   

Asgeir Compendium

Part I
The Approach

A chilly gust of wind whistles through the white pine forest. The faint light of the moon casts light shadows across the snow-covered ground and the snowy clouds of the night sky offer no stars on this night. To the north, in the distance rests the Crystal Spire, a magnificent structure built by the ancient peoples to honor the lord of ice: Varyx. High stone walls covered in ice surround the plaza, offering no easy way through except through the gates. For millennia it has served as the stronghold of the ancient lord of ice, who has long troubled the people of Asgeir. But he would not be troubling anyone else for to much longer.

Barely audible crunches sound out as a lone warrior steps through the snow. The pine forest offers good cover for his approach; the whistling winds drown out the sound of his person; the cloudy skies offer him the advantage of darkness. This would be his first and only attempt to infiltrate the Crystal Spire, so everything had to go according to plan. One wrong move and the quest would be botched; everything he was working for would be gone within a moment's notice.

The silent approach is time consuming, but silence is a treasured ally. Slowly, he encroaches upon the edge of the wood, attempting to find a spot as close to the wall as possible while still remaining hidden from the sentries who patrol the high walls. The light flicker of torch lights can be seen through the whipping of the falling snow and the warrior reconciles that this is the closest he can come without being spotted. A bow is strung over his torso, paired with a quiver of arrows. This silent weapon would be used to take out the sentries from the cover of the forest, but he had to make sure he did not miss. The blowing wind would present a challenge, as would the cold shivers of his body, but there was no other way.

With caution, the warrior removes the bow from his body, holding it with his left hand. As slowly as he approached the wall, the warrior draws a special arrow from the quiver. He then removes a rope from his belt and proceeds to tie it on the end of the arrow. The rope was not strong, but the purpose it served did not require much strength.

It builds anxiety, but he nocks the arrow and draws the bow to its maximum extent. His breathing slows as he takes aim, adjusting the position of the bow to compensate for both weather and bodily movements. The sentry walks to his destination slowly before stopping and surveying the area. It's time. With a final adjustment the warrior releases his hold on the bowstring, sending the arrow to its target The rope follows its ascent. It arcs to a degree, but the warrior has compensated near-perfectly and it drives itself straight into the eye socket of the sentry, protruding through the back of his head. Almost as soon as the arrow makes contact the warrior gives a nice tug on the rape, pulling the arrow's head back to the skull of the sentry. The added force and momentum of the rope being tugged causes the sentry's dead body to plummet over the side of the wall; a light thud can be heard as it hits the snowy ground.


Now speed mattered. The warrior dashes from the forest, towards the fallen sentry. He quickly slides the bow back over his torso. He reaches down at his belt with both hands to grip two ice-picks: perfect tools for scaling the ice-covered walls. He reaches the body, looking down to confirm his kill before turning his attention back to the wall. He slams the first pick in, and then the second. Again with the first, again with the second. On his boots are sharp, metal, spikes that allow him to plant his feet firmly into the icy wall. It would take time but the warrior would make his way to the top...

Then the creaking of a wooden door sounds out. The warrior pauses - one arm outstretched as he forces his body to stop mid-climb. He closes his eyes and hopes for the best. Another sentry is no doubt investigating the whereabouts of his ally, but dismisses the thought and closes the door once more.

He pulls the pick from the ice, lifts his body, and slams it into the wall once more, ascending himself to the top. Nearly there, he heaves himself up and takes a peek over the wall. No one in sight. To his right he observes a small barracks set atop the wall where the sentries attempt to keep warm. It would be an ideal place to sooth his anxiety and thaw out, but he would need to take caution not to be seen.

After pulling himself up and over the wall he can observe the interior of the fortress. The Crystal Spire rests in the center of the complex, while a variety of structures encircle it. They are perhaps smiths, barracks, and armories. Smoke-stacks escape the chimneys of a few buildings, keeping the occupants within warm.

The warrior crouches, moving his legs quickly by quietly until finally arriving by the side of the wooden door. He knocks his hand on the door a three times and hears the footsteps of an approaching sentry from within. The door opens and the sentry looks out, expecting to find his ally. He never expects to find his life cut short as the dagger of the warrior enters his throat. With great force the warrior pushes the sentry and himself back through the door. He shoves the body over into a corner and quickly turns around to close the door behind him.

There's a small fire in the center of the room and several wooden chairs to sit in. A table littered with food sits on the backside of the room. Varyx and his sentries would never expect someone, especially a mere mortal, to have made it this far. He should be safe for now. Safe, in this warm room.

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 6/11/2015 16:14:33 >
DF AQW  Post #: 1
1/24/2015 22:34:51   

Part II

The silent whipping of the flames cast shadows across the stone walls throughout the small barracks. The body of the fallen sentry lie in the corner of the room with lifeless eyes. He was one of the Iceni, a race of tribal folk who had long inhabited the Icelands. For generations the Iceni pledged their allegiance to Varyx, the Ice Lord, who promised them wealth, power, and fortune in return for their services. Every winter the Ice Lord's minions - along with the Iceni - would travel south, across the White Sea, and attempt to pillage the northern coasts of Asgeir. But every year they failed; the invasion never really took hold, though they actually proved to be quite troublesome in the far past. Fortunately, Asgeir was protected by a special security force: the 'Keepers of the North', led by the 'Warden of the North'. Their operations and reconnaissance ensured the Iceni would never make a strong foothold on the coasts ever again.

The warrior closed his eyes for moment, soaking in the heat the fire emanated. He recalled a time when he himself was asked to join the Keepers, just as his ancestors were. He had denied the request, preferring to live a simple life and wanting to focus on raising a family instead. His brother, on the other hand, the renowned 'Valius Valgard' continued the long family tradition of joining the Keepers. Within a few short years Valius had proven to be an excellent warrior, but this was no surprise, as all Valgards were naturally-talented warriors. While Valius was off protecting all of Asgeir, his younger brother resorted to a simple life as he always wanted.

The warrior opened his eyes. He didn't want to think about what came next; living the simple life was all well and good, but bringing up the past brought him much pain. It was the reason he was here - so far north in the heart of the Icelands. He inhaled and then exhaled deeply, preparing to rise up and continue his mission. There was no turning back now. He had think of what was here and now.

Slowly pushing the door open, the warrior looked around to see if anyone was nearby. He could only see a few yards ahead of him; the snowstorm had picked up and the night had darkened. This was, in a sense, better for him. Just a few feet away he could make out the top of a ladder that descended down into the yard below. Cautionary steps led him over to the ladder's start where he proceeded to climb down at a quick but silent pace.

It was beyond freezing down here. He reminisced the very recent warmth of the fire above but quickly subdued the thoughts. There could be no distractions. Just ahead was a structure to take cover behind, and so the warrior did just that. He observed his surroundings once more; no suspicious sounds, no incoming torch lights, no alarm. Good.

The buildings had been built so small alleyway-like pathways cut behind and between them. It was easy to stay hidden, especially considering that the bulk of the fortresses occupants were within the abodes. A patrolling guard gave out his position as he stepped across the snow. He drew his dagger and, taking care not to startle him, eased through the ally until he was behind the guard. In a quick maneuver, the warrior pulled the guard with one arm while slicing his throat with the other. He never had time to call for help. The warrior then pulled the fallen body into the alley, out of sight for now.

He kept his hands on the walls of the buildings as he continued, crouched down and prowling the night like a wolf until finally he came within range of the Crystal Spire. For now he would need to keep under cover behind the current building.

A circular moat surrounded the tower, and he could see only one way across via a bridge. The bridge was in plain sight and four sentries stood guard at the end of it, protecting the doorway. Looking up at the top of the spire he made out a few openings that no doubt acted as windows. The Ice Lord was somewhere up there, he just knew it. The water would be to freezing to cross, so he had to think of another way...

At that moment a loud explosion sounded in the distance, towards the gateways of the wall. The heavy snow fall made it hard to see what it was, but something was definitely going on. The sound of soldiers footsteps and multiple alarms sounded throughout the fortress as Iceni tribesmen poured out of the structures and rushed towards the source of the explosion. Fortunately for the warrior, two of the four guards also scurried off in the direction.

Within moments the area was clear again, but he could hear fighting erupting south of his position, over at the gates. Who could that be? Curiosity struck the warrior but he had no time for such things. He needed to finish his job as soon as possible. Drawing a sword from its sheath and a dagger from his belt, the warrior sprinted towards the bridge.

"Alah von amari! Alah von amari!" The two guards called out to him, drawing their weapons and preparing to fight. The warrior gave no mercy, closing in on the two guards and engaging them in combat.

They attacked simultaneously but failed to make contact. The warrior slipped right between them, cutting one on the thigh with his dagger before spinning around and sweeping his sword in an arc that toppled one guard onto his back. The injured combatant panicked at the wound on his thigh and wasn't able to deflect the lunge of the warrior's sword, entering his gut and sending him writhing on the ground. With two quick strokes the warrior ended their lives, plunging his dagger into their throats to keep them quiet. Dead.

Attempting to push open the doors, the warrior found them to be locked. Damn! There was nowhere for a key... this door must be opened from the inside only - or perhaps with the magic that the Ice Lord withheld. It was similar in structure to the Black Tower back in Stormhold, he observed.

There was now only one way into the tower: up. Drawing his ice-picks once again, the warrior tried to notch the metal ends into the icy wall. With a light 'tink' the ice-picks buried themselves into the structure and the warrior proceeded to scale the side of the tower, just as he did the walls. Only this time he would need to climb higher...

A few minutes passed by and the warrior could hear the rushing of footsteps down below. Once again, the snowstorm made it nigh impossible to see what was happening, but faint torch lights made it clear the invaders had made it to the gates.


The warrior felt a small vibration in the wall. Cack! Another vibration! The invaders... they were using some sort of battering device to break down the doors. It would take time, but it was probably an easier and safer way inside. He ignored the operations down below and instead ascended higher on the tower, making his way to the closest window. Still though, he could not help but wonder who was attacking the Crystal Spire, and what force would have been daring enough to try it.

Just a few more paces and finally the warrior made it to his mark, pulling himself up and over the window's edge, silently crouching and taking cover behind a nearby wall. The sound of a crackling magic was evident, and the room seemed chilly - colder than the outdoors. The interior of the room was circuled, with a low stone wall circling around it that separated the center from the hall and stairways on the rim of the room.

And then the being across the ways spoke in a very harsh, ancient dilect that cut into the warrior's ears. "I know you're there, warrior."

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 1/25/2015 10:03:39 >
DF AQW  Post #: 2
1/24/2015 22:36:09   

Part III
The Ice Lord

There goes a silent approach. The near-godliness of a being like the Icelord, however, didn't really promote a stealthy approach. Toric sighed, readied himself and quickly rounded around the corner, facing the Icelord.

"The Icelord... you knew I'd come," Toric asked calmly. The tension is the room was as thick as the chill in the air.

"Of course," the great being replied. His words cut deep into Toric's ears and even into his mind, like ice cutting its way through flesh. "I've been watching you the whole time." The Icelord raised his hand in the direction of a large orb on the other side of the room. Probably some sort of magical device he had used to spy on Toric. "Only a mortal who is not in my presence calls me the Icelord. I am Varyx, Lord of the North, Master of Cold, and Overseer of the Winter Season."

"Well then, Varyx, tell me. If you knew I was coming... why did you nothing about it?"

The Icelord acted as if he was about to pace around the room, but after taking one step he stopped and began to think. Finally, he looked Toric in the eyes anre spoke. "I wanted to see how capable you were. And I wanted to face you - personally." Then the demi-god continued his pacing until he made it to the side of the room, on the opposite end of the crystal ball. He used his armored hand to wipe away frost particles from the wall.

And there it was.

Dark and twisted. It was as if darkness itself had come together and molded itself into some dark weapon. The blade was of a dark grey color, with ancient runes adorned across the blade. Tick marks scratched into the surface made it to clear to any observer that the original wielder had slaughtered countless foes. The hilt was expertly crafted, and colored similarly as the blade, but with red lining going down it. Toric was not a man of magic, but even he could feel the power coursing through its make.

As the blade became visible beneath the ice, Varyx spoke up, "you've come for the Darkblade? The ancient sword of my foe, Sidonis? Or what is it you mortals call him - the Darklord, right? Hmph. Darklord, Icelord, Wraithlord... what cliche naming conventions you race of men come up with. Do you know why I have Sidonis' weapon, warrior?"

"It's the key to releasing him. It holds the power to free him, from the bonds you put on him."

"Such a perfect answer," the Icelord replied. "But I merely provided a ruse - a distraction. It was Wraith who bound him. There are only three reasons you would want this blade. The first is power. The second is for payment. And the third... you'd release Sidonis with it. But no mortal in their right mind would ever free Sidonis. There's nothing to gain from-"

"I'd gain everything I ever wanted," Toric interrupted abruptly.

"And what is that?" A moment of silence, interrupted only by the whisper of air, followed. Finally, Varyx realized what it was the warrior wanted. "Oh... the girl? You seek your lost daughter, is that it? Wraith took her from you, and now you've made a deal with Sidonis. Free him, and he'll resurrect the one you hold most dear."

Toric nodded, "that's right. So you know my intentions. Do I need to fight you for the blade, or will you hand it over to me?"

"Fool, fool, fool. Sidonis would destroy your world. Even if he follows through on his end of the bargain, what then? Your entire world will fall apart. Cities will crumble, plague will rip through the countryside, hurricanes will flood the coasts, locusts would eat your crops, and Varan blood will be the cause of it all. Is this what you want? Is this what you want for your daughter? You'd disturb her rest to bring her into a world of decay and death. What kind of man are you, Toric Valgard?"

Toric drew his sword and prepared to face the demi-god. "I'm the man who'll doom the world for just one more day with my daughter. Make your choice, Varyx of the Icelands."

Varyx sighed and drew his blade. It was a longsword of cold ancient making, decorated with blue runes. It hissed as he drew it from his sheath. "The answer is NO. The monster Sidonis will never be released as long as I live."

"Then live no more."

Both beings charged from either side of the room, clashing at its center and locking blades. The Icelord was far stronger and pushed Toric back, but Toric never gave in and pushed against him, his feet sliding on the icy floor. Toric finally broke off, ducked, and dived through the Icelord's legs. Varyx stumbled forward against the momentum but caught himself, quickly spinning around and slashing as he did so. Toric reared back, barely dodging the blow and lunged forward with his blade. With an artful diagonal block, Varyx deflected the blow and slammed his offhand fist into Toric's face, sending him reeling back.

Back on your feet, back on your feet! In his heavy steps, the Icelord walked to where Toric had landed and reached down to grab him, but Toric rolled over at the last second and spun around, hacking his sword into the Icelord's thick armor. The impact 'dinged' but made no headway. It was as if the blow never even landed. Not the result Toric expected. The Icelord backhanded Toric in the face and sent him flipping back. "Hahaha," the Icelord laughed, "mere steel - no matter how it is forged - could ever penetrate my armor."

Toric's eyes darted around the room, looking for some opportunity. There! The Darkblade! If Toric could get the Icelord to break open its casing...

Toric dodged another blow from the Icelord and darted across the room, positioning himself against the wall where the Darkblade was. Varyx walked back over with his heavy steps and raised his blade high above his head. It came crashing down to Toric's body, but he dived to the side with all his might. 'Klish!'

Ice shattered as it landed against the floor. The Darkblade's hilt hung out in the open, ready to be retrieved. But Varyx knew exactly what he was planning and refused to leave the post. "You won't have it, Toric. This weapon holds a power mortals can't control. It's locked in here for a reason."

Toric charged towards Varyx, lunging with his sword but failing to make any real impact against Varyx's defense. With a quick side-step and spin he maneuvered himself behind Varyx, grabbing the Darkblade and pulling with all his strength.

It was luke a sudden surge of adrenaline. Power flooded his gripped hand and coursed through his body, to his heart first and then throughout the rest of himself. He had over-exaggerated the strength required to free the weapon, and when his newfound strength allowed him to yank it throught he ice as if it was butter, he flew onto his back. He was fortunate, as the Icelord had already spun around and slammed his great blade into the wall, where Toric's shoulders would have been.

"No... I'm warning you, Toric! It will corrupt you! He will corrupt you!"

Toric ignored him and charged forth once more. There was no unfairness in this battle. The power of the blade had imbued the Varan with such strength, vigor, speed, and reflexes that it matched Varyx's own. For a few moments Toric had the advantage, gaining ground. The next moment Varyx had the advantage. It was a back and forth struggle as both duelists luncged, plunged, slashed, gashed, hacked, and whacked.

Until something in Toric awakened. Whatever gave him this perception embedded itself so deep into his mind that it became part of him. The Icelord suddenly grunted and Toric looked on in surprise as his blade was dug into Varyx's abdomen. Iceblade feel from his hands and onto the floor, clanging as it hit the icy floor. The Icelord shook and his head rolled around before he finally looked at Toric with blue eyes. "You've no idea... what you're... getting into..."

"Neither did Wraith when he took my daughter." Toric spun Darkblade in his hand, turning it upside down and then plunged it into the open mouth of Varyx, pushing down and driving it deeper and deeper into his throat - down into his gut. Varyx choked and gurgled, his eyes wide with pain.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the right. "Toric!" He looked over to see noneother than Valius Valgard - Warden of the North. At that moment the power within Varyx's body exploded. Whatever flesh and bone he was made of seemingly vanished, but his metallic armor flew to all sides of the room and even sent Toric reeling back. The power within him had exploded, rocking the Crystal Spire and blowing a hole into the floor and the roof. The entire tower, as ancient as it was, seemed to lose all foundation...

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 5/14/2015 19:38:38 >
DF AQW  Post #: 3
1/24/2015 22:37:23   

Part IV
Two Brothers
DF AQW  Post #: 4
1/24/2015 22:38:29   

Part V
Fall of the Crystal Spire
DF AQW  Post #: 5
1/24/2015 22:40:09   

Terms and Reference

Toric Valgard
Valius Valgard - Valius was the older brother of Toric Valgard. He was a revered and well-respected warrior who joined the Keepers of the North when he was nineteen years old. Within a few years he quickly became a famous member and was skyrocketed to the rank of Warden - the leader of the Keepers.
Varyx, the Ice Lord
The Dark Lord

Crystal Spire
Asgeir, the Northlands

The Ancients
Warden of the North
Keepers of the North


< Message edited by TJByrum -- 1/25/2015 10:04:59 >
DF AQW  Post #: 6
3/14/2015 11:04:08   

The Age of Heroes
Tarro Makes a Proposal

The loud and constant yelling of the Varan refugees within the great hall made it barely audible to hear anything else. Outside, in the cold, dark night, the winds howled throughout the buildings of Stormhold, surrounding the massive spire that sat at its center known to its locals as 'the Black Tower'. Jutting out from one end of the Black Tower was the Great Hall, where many important and notable clan leaders had gathered. They were all refugees: fleeing from the onslaught brought on by dozens of foreign nations. The south had callen, the east was falling, and the west was under constant attack. It seemed Asgeir was about to fall, and the Varan would be all but extinct within the next year or so.

"Quiet!" A loud, thunderous voice boomed across the room. It belonged to the warrior Koros Jarn, of House Jarn, colloquially known as the House of the Grey Eagle. As the Varan suddenly halted their voices and arguments, they turned their attention towards the throne platform, where there stood three individuals. Koros was very tall, even by Varan standards, and very powerful at that. He wielded a large battleaxe, which at this time was hanging on his back. He had a big, bushy blonde beard and long blonde hair which was pulled back behind his head. His eyes was a unique grey color, and from far away one could swear they were completely white with two small black pupils in them. His Ki'gar hung loosely around his neck, and had grey and golden colors on it with an eagle emblazoned at its center; it was the Jarn crest.

"Thank you, Koros." The next speaker was another man, also tall and strong, but not as much as Koros. This man wore distinctive blue and silver armor and carried a large sword on his back. His long black hair was pulled back behind his head and his beard was more trimmed than Koros' was. His Ki'gar was a dark blue, with white trimmings, and had the image of a wolf at its center. It was obvious this man was Tarro Valgard, the current head of the Valgard Clan, or the House of the Wolf. "Now that I have your attention," Tarro said with his commanding voice, "I'd like to introduce a proposition." Tarro walked further away from the throne, closer to the audience so as to make himself for visible. "I am Tarro Valgard, patriarch of the great clan Valgard. I am sure everyone in this room is well-aware of the situation: the Varan are being exterminated. Everywhere we look our enemies lie in wait, ready to strike us down. If we do not act soon we will surely fall, and the legacy of the Varan will cease to be!" At this the Varan gasped and chatter could be heard throughout the building. The ominous, looming threat of extinction was not a welcome thought.

"And I suppose you'll be the one to lead us to victory?" A voice from within the crowd called out to Tarro.

"Indeed," answered Tarro, his words quietening the crowd once more. "To defeat this enemy, we must stand together! We must cooperate, and be united. This is how we will defeat our enemies. No more will we divide our men into clans, no more will we act alone. We will now act as a unit, as a single kingdom!" More chatter erupted, this time louder. A lot of the families here were rivals, and hated one another. To work alongside them, or to surrender control of their soldiers to other commanders, was not welcome either. "Brothers! Sisters!" Tarro called out over the loud arguments and quietened them down, again. "If you will not join me, then I implore you to march out of Stormhold and face the enemy alone! If you will join me, then you must muster every able-bodied man and woman you can and prepare them for total war!"

"I shall not join you," called out one of the Varan, "but I will not leave the confines of the city either!" Stormhold was perhaps the safest haven in all of Asgeir. It had never once been sacked, nor conquered by anyone since its very founding.

Tarro quickly drew his large sword, wielding it with only one hand. "Then you will face my wrath! For I will assume control of Stormhold, and any who oppose me must object now or never!" At this bold statement, Koros Jarn growled and pulled his battleaxe, backing up Tarro. The two great warriors prepared for any objections, but none come. After a moment the two warriors calmed down and lowered their weapons. "Then it is settled. From this day forth, your armies belong to me! Tarro Valgard! Koros shall be my second-chief. Clan leaders and bannermen, you must stay and we shall sort out the organization of our heirarchy. All others, disperse and prepare the troops!"

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 3/14/2015 11:40:11 >
DF AQW  Post #: 7
3/14/2015 11:43:19   

The Age of Heroes
The Slaughter of Whiteclaw Pass
DF AQW  Post #: 8
3/14/2015 13:56:00   

The Age of Heroes
Joric Rallies the Refugees in the East
DF AQW  Post #: 9
3/14/2015 13:57:01   

The Age of Heroes
The Battle of Whiteclaw Pass
DF AQW  Post #: 10
3/14/2015 13:58:47   

The Age of Heroes
The Jorian Riders
DF AQW  Post #: 11
3/14/2015 14:00:26   

House Valgard
The House of the Wolf

Notable Members
Tarro Valgard - Long considered to be the patriarch of the Valgard clan, Tarro is known for his activeness in the Age of Heroes. Together with heroes such as Koros Jarn, Joric Hevelt, and his future wife Lyza Valgard, he helped to drive invaders out of Asgeir and establish the first Varan Kingdom. His only child was a son named Volrun Valgard.
Lyza Valgard - Wife of Tarro Valgard. She was a shieldmaiden who fought alongside Tarro and Koros during the Age of Heroes, and bore the child Volrun Valgard, the only son and heir to Tarro Valgard.
Volrun Valgard - Son of Tarro Valgard, and notable warrior, known for his efforts in defending Gripclaw Pass from the forces of Alquen. Volrun slew Koros Jarn in single combat and assumed command of the Varan forces there, then promoted his friend Aesa to second-chief. He became known as 'the Wolf of Gripclaw Pass' by his men and in legend.
Aesa Jojora - Close friend, and second-chief, to Volrun Valgard. After consummating their relationship, Aesa was sent back to Asgeir with the heir to the Valgard line. She is not recognized as 'Valgard' because she was never married to Volrun.
Toric Valgard - Future hero, husband to Gyda Valgard, and father of Lily Valgard.
Valius Valgard - Brother of Toric, and High Warden of the North.
Gyda Valgard - Deceased wife of Toric Valgard, who died giving childbirth.
Lily Valgard - Daughter of Toric Valgard and Gyda.
Toren Varro - Distant cousin of Toric and Valius, allied with Toric during his Ambition.

Wolf - This clan is closely associated with a wolf, which is used in their family crest. When receiving motifs, they are usually concerned with wolves; 'The Wolf of Asgeir', 'The Wolf of Gripclaw Pass', etc. It is said their people have wolf-like features, including their appearance, thinking, and movement.
Blue and White - The Valgards official colors are blue and white.
Natural Warriors - The Valgards are known to be naturally-skilled and highly capable warriors.
Swords and Shields - When going into battle, the Valgards prefer to use swords and shields.
Leaders - The Valgards are natural leaders, and often take to action when th4e situation arises. There are few others that actually try to outdo them.
Noble, Honorable, Valiant - Valgards are known to be kind, respectful, and honorable. In battle they are courageous and valiant, and never falter.
Indomitable Will - The Valgards are born with an innate ability to resist some magic, and are completely immune to mind-altering magic.
Easily Corrupted - Though the Valgards are indeed noble and valiant, they are also easily corrupted when something happens to their loved ones. It is said this is the sole reason they have never been the kings of Asgeir.

Brief History
The House of the Wolf, as it is known, is a highly recognized, distinguished, and influential clan within Asgeir. Only few others can rival them. It is evident their warriors were renowned during the Barbaric Age, and during the Warring Age they maintained a slightly moderately sized kingdom. They came to fame during the Age of Heroes, when then-patriarch, Tarro Valgard, rallied the Varan refugees and reclaimed much of Asgeir. Tarro's son, Volrun Valgard, would go on to defend Gripclaw Pass along with the Alliance during the Rise of Domrius.

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 3/15/2015 8:36:51 >
DF AQW  Post #: 12
3/14/2015 14:01:53   

House Vinar
The House of the Viper

Notable Members
Tevos Vinar - Then-patriarch of the Age of Heroes, slain by Tarro and Koros.
Plaar Vinar - Son of Tevos Vinar, and heir to the Vinar clan. Plaar plays a crucial role in the King's Court within Asgeir.

Viper - House Vinar is associated with the crest of a viper, or snake.
Green, Black, Yellow - The official colors of House Vinar is green, black, and yellow.
Cunning and Dirty - Vinar clansmen are known to be secretive, deceptive, and cunning. They will do anything to get what they want.
Lithe and Agile - Vinar warriors are known for their stealth, guile, and agility.
Wealthy - House Vinar has amassed a large fortune over the years; it is clear they did so through unconventional means.
Dual Wielders - House Vinar goes into battle wielding dual swords, as well as with an assortment of daggers.
Corrupted - It is well-known that House Vinar relies on greed and corruption.

Brief History

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 6/27/2015 8:36:26 >
DF AQW  Post #: 13
3/14/2015 16:32:44   

Varan Military Organization

There's no official training methods in Asgeir, but the Varan's culture dictates that all individuals, be they male or female, must partake in daily exercises to prepare them for war. While they're not a warring country anymore, Varan culture has remained largely unchanged and practices still persist.

High King
Grand Warchief - Acts as the official military commander, usually instated by the High King himself. At times, however, the High King will convene a meeting to determine the Grand Warchief.
Warchief - The leader of a specific force.
Second-Chief - A second-chief is the right-hand of a warchief, serving as an adviser and 'replacement' for the Varan commander. Instated by the warchief himself.

Wardens - Special agents who specialize in sabotage, espionage, and more. The Wardens were formed after the Age of Heroes to act as a special security force that patrolled and protected Asgeir. The goal was to disband the Great Varan Warband, and replace them with the cost-efficient and more reliable Wardens.
Stormguard - The royal guard. The Stormguard is mostly found within Stormhold, protecting the king. They are similar to Thanes, but are highly-skilled, reliable, and proven warriors handpicked by the High King himself.
Thanes - Skilled veterans who have swore an oath to protect their lords and kings, acting as bodyguards and special agents for their client.
Rune-Mage - Varan who understand the practice and use of runes, which can give them special powers or imbue weapons and armor with special abilities.
Jorian Riders - A special cavalry force, and one of the best in the region. Founded by Joric during the Age of Heroes, and now acting as a guild, the Jorian Riders are known for their powerful, damaging charges in battle.
Huskarls - The rank-and-file unit of the Varan warbands. Huskarls are experienced, well-equipped, well-trained soldiers and act as the bulk of the force for the Varan military. They have usually served in conflicts before and acquired payment, enabling them to purchase better armor and weapons, and perhaps a steed. Huskarls are known for their relentlessness and bravery on the battlefield. They may take on the traditional role of infantry, or mount their steeds to become cavalry units, or use bows to become an archy unit.
Proven - Once groups of Unproven become more experienced, and once the general realizes he can rely on them, the Unproven are then formally recognized as Proven. They may have acquired better armor and weapons from spoils of victory. The general knows that, since they're still alive, they are reliable.
Uproven - Militia men; Unproven are inexperienced, often young individuals who are called to war in volunteer service, or if a draft is initiated. Unproven are notably less-armored and poorly equipped, but this is where all Varan warriors begin their careers. Unproven are often designated to pike ranks to ward off cavalry, or used to supplement higher-grade personnel, such as archer units or swordsmen units.

Skog - A name used by both the race of Varan who inhabit the primitive northwest, and the title adopted by the leader of the Skog.
Skog Berserkers - Fierce, unyielding barbarians from the northwest. They wear little to no armor, and wield heavy weapons such as battlaxes or clubs.
Skog Raiders - Skog warriors who ride atop terrifying beasts.
Skog Headhunters - Young Skog warriors who carry spears into battle, and are deadly accurate with them. Skog Headhunters collect the heads of the enemies they kill and use them as trophies.

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 6/11/2015 16:21:44 >
DF AQW  Post #: 14
5/22/2015 22:29:45   

The Tale of Ralf Valgard
Part I

A Hero's Blade

Ralf brought the axehead back up and swung it down with a huff, panting from the exhaustion of earlier labor. The axe's wedge drove itself deep into the wood, cutting it in two. Ralf relaxed his arm and let the axe rest on the ground as he leaned back and looked up at the sky, wiping his brow with his other hand. It was a little past midday; the sun had reached its zenith and was on its way to dropping behind the forests and below the horizon.

Ralf dropped the axe and bent down to pick up the two pieces of firewood he had just cut, tossing them into a pile to his left. He reached over to the right to retrieve a new piece of wood to cut, but as he reached down to grab his axe he heard someone speak. "Cutting wood for the whole village, son?"

Ralf looked over at the man. It was Kaluun, from the village. Kaluun was old man with a bushy grey beard, balding head, and dark squinty eyes. His body was as big as a tree-trunk, a stout man he was. He was well-respected, however, by the villagers, renowned for his wisdom and service to the land of Asgeir.

"No harm in making a little more coin this year, Kaluun." Ralf picked up the piece of wood and placed it on the tree-stump, raising the axe to position.

"Coin for... food? Supplies? Services? No. I'm just old, boy, not stupid." Kaluun began walking over to where Ralf was.

Ralf smiled coyly as he brought the axe down on the wood and chopped it in two. "I know you're not stupid, Kaluun. Everyone knows that. But if you know what the coin is for, then why bother me about it?"

"Because I don't want you to get in over your head, son. I know that fire in you is strong, believe me. I saw it in your father's eyes, and I see it in your mother's eyes." Kaluun shook his head and smiled. "What was Volrun thinking? For any Valgard to lay with a fiery woman like Aesa Jojora... should've known they'd make trouble."

"Oh, come on, Kaluun," Ralf turned his head and looked away sheepishly, "they're my parents! I don't want to hear that!"

Kaluun laughed and took the axe from Ralf's hand. "Cutting this firewood might make you strong and durable son, but it's not going to teach you how to fight."

"I'm not training to fight, Kaluun, I'm trying to get some coin for my own sword. And not one of those militia blades either. I'm talking about a real sword. Steel, with polish, and a good grip."

"If it's authenticity you want, why not make it yourself? You don't need coin to mine ore, and I'm pretty sure the smithy'll let you use the forge if you only ask."

Ralf looked away in consideration, thinking of the possibilities. To make his own sword? That would be even better! "I guess I hadn't thought of doing that."

"That's you're problem, lad. Always doing, never thinking. Ya know, it matters what's up here just as much as what's here." Kaluun pointed to his head and then to his arm, signifying brains are just as useful in battle as muscle. "Only then will you achieve what you desire here," he then pointed to his heart.

"Thanks, Kaluun. So..." Ralf looked around at all the firewood and then over at his cart. "Want to help me load up this firewood?"

Kaluun chuckled and shook his head, "hey, at least this'll teach you hard work and dedication. Problem with the rest of the world is that no one but the peasantry know how to make honest work. Ask some lord or noble a question or two, you'll know they're as corrupt as they come. I'll meet you back in the village when you're finished, see you then." Kaluun shook his head and walked back towards the village.

If the chopping of firewood didn't make him tired, then the monotonous action of placing them on the cart did. Piled high with the wood, Ralf led his poor donkey back into the village. He'd unhitch the donkey from the cart and park it next to the barn.

Perhaps Aesa, Ralf's mother, was fixing something to eat, as he could smell it as he approached the house. As he drew closer he could hear the ramblings of Kaluun, bringing a smile to his face. The door groaned and creaked as Ralf walked in and collapsed on a cushioned chair in the corner, exhausted from the day's work.

"I'm not sure who I see more, the chickens - or my own son," Aesa proclaimed, trying to cut food as best she could with only one hand and a stump for the other.

"You knew where I was, mother. Chopping wood for the village. Winter's not to far off, you know?"

"I know. But Kaluun told me what you're up to."

"What? Why?" Ralf looked at Kaluun with surprise.

"Now, now, boy, hear this. Long ago, before the Age of Heroes, there lived warriors and barbarians."
DF AQW  Post #: 15
6/11/2015 16:16:00   


A detailed look at the realm of Asgeir



Important Locations
The Black Tower



Flora and Fauna

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 6/11/2015 16:19:35 >
DF AQW  Post #: 16
6/11/2015 16:17:12   

The Varan
A detailed look at the natives of Asgeir, the Varan.
DF AQW  Post #: 17
6/27/2015 8:54:26   

The Varan Civil War

Twenty-five years after reclaiming its lost land and establishing the Kingdom of Asgeir, the land entered a state of unrest. King Borg Drakos was elected as highking, and his oldest son Drakos Drakos was to become the next king to sit on the throne. Borg ruled Asgeir with an iron-fist, working with Tarro Valgard to bring about reforms to its people. One of the biggest problems with these reforms lie in the noble family of the Vinar, the House of the Viper.

House Vinar played a crucial role in the Heroic Age just a few decades prior, becoming recognized as one of the Great Houses of Asgeir. It's patriarch, Plaar Vinar, led his own battalion of scouts, saboteurs, and even assassins against the foreign nations and caused destruction, chaos, and mutiny amongst the enemy. It was during this time that Plaar built a covert following in obtaining a spy network. Because of his additions, Tarro, Koros, and Borg felt it reasonable to give House Vinar dominion over the land. Vinar had a large amount of wealth before the war, but there new land was rich in gold and jewels, which furthered it even more.

Plaar had three sons: Vixen, Vylo, and Vylen. He also had one daughter: Verica. On Plaar's deathbed, he told his sons and daughter to do what they could to cease power. Vixen planned to marry Verica to the highking's son, Drakos. Borg welcomed the idea, as Verica was very rich and had a vast network of intelligence. Borg became ill and died- no doubt poisoned, and Drakos ascended to the throne with his new queen Verica. Using her influence, Verica convinced Drakos to make Vixen Second-King. Not long after that, Vixen abdicated the throne from Drakos and assumed kingship over Asgeir.

Drakos went into exile while Vixen ruled unchallenged. A few supporters clinged to Drakos, while some welcomed the more iron-fisted rule of Vixen, others to afraid of their power. The biggest challenger was House Valgard, who supported Drakos' rule. Vixen sent Vylen and Vylo to House Valgard's estate and murdered Tarro, Lyza, Voris, and Tnut Valgard. Volrun Valgard was the only surviving member of the family, and he was away taking part in a foreign war.

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 6/27/2015 9:00:09 >
DF AQW  Post #: 18
7/7/2015 18:10:19   

The Two Kings

King Edmund Valwick sat on his horse, looking across the field at the approaching party. Behind him there stood a small gathering of other mounted men; kings and vassals of the southern lands. The approaching party contained the 'Northern King', a man named Koros Jarn, accompanied by his own kings and vassals. The Two Kings had brought along large hosts: formidable armies eager to do battle between the Teeth. 'The Teeth' was the name given to two moderately-sized mountains, distanced almost a mile and a half apart. For ages it had served as a natural gateway between the northern and southern realms of the Isle. The area north of the Teeth had been conquered by the Aurrian Empire almost forty years prior, and remained in their control until seven years ago, when Koros Jarn rallied his bannermen and executed every last Aurrian on the Isle.

Edmund sighed and turned his head to the east; it was still morning time, clear too, ripe for battle. Looking back forward the Northern King and his men came to a halt a few yards away. "Please tell me you've brought all of these men to bend the knee," Edmund joked, picking at Koros.

"Not quite, boy," the Northern King replied, "we're here to turn you back south, where you belong." Koros was a large man, made entirely of stout muscle. His gray beard and hair spoke of experience and wisdom. He lifted himself up and dropped down of of his mighty gray steed, huffing as his feet landed on the ground. Placing his right hand over his chest, he bowed slightly to the Southern King, as was customary to all Northern Kings before him.

"Where I belong," Edmund said inquisitively, ignoring Koros' gesture. "I belong here, between the north and south. For it is all mine. By right. By oath. Or do they not teach history in the north? Don't you remember, your forefather swore fealty-"

"I know damn well what my forefather did," Koros barked at Edmund. "But his forefathers defied you Southern Kings, and that's exactly what I'm doing. This is not your land. It never was, and it never will be. This is the north; it belongs to the north. This is the first time you've ever stepped in the north. What in bloody hell makes you're capable of leading my people?"

Edmund sighed and shook his head at Koros' stubbornness. "Do you really think your freedom matters? You really think we're safe on this island nation? No, I've never been here in the north, Koros. But I've been south. Far south. I've been far east. I've seen things and people that you'd swear was ripped straight from your legends. Whole armies that, when they march, cause earthquakes for miles around. Kings who, at the height of their power, became gods. I've seen men struck down by beads, unleashed by fire. If we are to stand against these people, we need to be united. Join me, Koros. Bend the knee."

"And then what? What happens when I bend the knee?"

"You're stripped of your title and reinstated as a vassal in the north, like everyone else. You pay your taxes, you send men to fight for me, the True King, your people follow my rules, and you do what I say, when I say it."

Koros scoffed. "If ever there was evidence to prove your lineage, that line would be it. My people do not want to pay your taxes to fix roads and bridges in the south. My people do not want to die for some Southern King. My people do not want to follow your religion, nor do they want to abide by the laws instated on them by men of the south. Now get off of that horse and speak to me, face to face, like a man."

"I prefer to stay on my horse. It lets me look down on the peasants, like yourself."
DF AQW  Post #: 19
7/7/2015 18:19:32   

An Order Most Holy

Mercenaries, hired by a priest to escort holy monks to holy land. Instated by a papal order to become protectorates of their religion. Some flock to serve their religious brethren, while others come for the gold and adventure.

Some men are sent out to proclaim new regions for the Meister. But how long before they become a threat? They execute the pagans, they threaten the balance of the realm, they prove economic power.

Politics of the Witch Hunters

"The kingdoms tax the silver trade so much, the merchants can't afford to sell it to us at a decent price. We've not enough volunteers, and the ones we do get have never held a pitchfork a day in their life. The lycans' numbers grow with each passing day, and without the vampires prowling around they're going unchecked. We've lost contact at Mor Vald, making it the third castle we've lost within the past three months."

"What of our own silver mines?"

"We were saving it for a rainy day, but it too is overrun with the damn wolves. Besides, there's not enough in there to make an attempt to reclaim it."

"What about conscription? By law, we could conscript-"

"The kingdoms don't give a damn about us anymore. We're just another lapping of the waves. They won't send conscripted soldiers.. no, not while they're fighting there wars. Maybe we should just up and leave, let the damn beasts of the night overrun them all."

"Perhaps we..."

"What? What is it?"

"Perhaps we should become vampires ourselves, fight the lycans with their power..."

< Message edited by TJByrum -- 7/7/2015 18:21:46 >
DF AQW  Post #: 20
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