Realistic or Modern Dawn of Ragnarök

[InkedFox]

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ᎠᎪᎳᏁ Ꮎf ᏒᎪᎶᏁᎪᏒöᏦ
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--Conquest --Victory --Glory. These are the life blood of any true Norseman. Though your tribe is still small, and nomadic; your ranks have slowly grown over the years of your travels. Now with enough Norsemen and women banded together, you and your tribesmen have set out in search of an unclaimed land wrought with treasures and battle worthy foes. Whether, you --yourself, came for conquest, riches or seeking the glory of Valhalla is of no consequence; you now find yourself sailing to an unknown land surrounded by your shield brothers and sisters. With landfall made, it is left to you and your brethren to form a Keep worthy of both fame and infamy.
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Rules
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Hello, and welcome to Dawn of Ragnarok --This is a simple viking adventure rp made for fun. Nothing too serious lol A few rules to look out for, though:
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- Please keep drama within the rp, and be courteous to other players.
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- Please do not power play or god-mode. No auto hitting or auto-killing.
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- No gary-stus or mary-sues, I like characters with a bit of 'character' --no one is perfect.
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- Please do not post until I okay your CS
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-Please post your WIP CS in the CS thread, and notify me once it is complete, thanks!
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- This rp is very "fly by its pants" we will change things on the go, if needed.
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- If you have an idea for a role, feel free to grab my attention I don't mind discussing unique roles
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Character Sheet​

SURPRISE!
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I hate character sheets!
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They take the fun out of getting to know a character through Roleplay. Therefore, simply provide me with a picture of your character and a small paragraph with an overview of who they are, what their goals are and whatever else you deem note worthy. I'm not a huge fan of RL pictures, but I will allow it in special cases. I prefer fantasy art or anime face claims for this. If you have no picture, simply provide a written description of your character.
PLEASE POST THESE IN THE CS THREAD ​

 
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Character Sheet Thread
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Out of Character Thread
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FAQ
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Q: Must your character be a viking?
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A: Your character CAN be a viking, but it is quite common for vikings to claim slaves after pillaging settlements. Your character may be a foreign slave indentured to a viking voyager, if you so wish.
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Q: What kind of jobs can my character have?
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A: Asides from fearsome warriors, Norse culture was also known for their craftsmanship, poets and artists. Your viking can be anything from a skald (minstrel), to a berserker, to a blacksmith, or a wood carver, etc. So long as it is within reason, and logical to the rp and setting.
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[More will be added as needed-- please feel free to ask me any questions you may have]
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[InkedFox]

[Reserved for later use]
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[InkedFox]

[Reserved for later use]
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[InkedFox]

Current Events
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The Beginning of the End...
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Your tribe has been traveling the last few hard months; facing down fierce wilderness and fending off the most severe of the seasons. You all have managed to survive and scrap by, by pillaging and plundering any settlement or keep unfortunate enough to be lying in the path of your steady death march. Aimless, your people have been, and yet the current Jarl does nothing to set down proper roots. Instead, he forsakes any mere glimpse at a slow pace, and agriculture filled life. He seeks his own fame and fortune, and blindly marches on, pressing his dwindling warriors to fight onward for the glory of Valhalla and his own house's name. Mean while, the women and children have come to starve, and winter will beset your clan's small and underdeveloped Keep. The elders do not believe the clan will survive the colder months given current provisions... and the Jarl? His sights have been set on starting a war with a neighboring clan for rights to their land. Many have come to acknowledge the madness flickering in the Jarl's eyes, and yet no one comes to challenge his leadership. Will the clan allow their leader to march them towards their deaths? or will someone rise up to reunify the tribe under a new banner?

 

[InkedFox]

The Jarl's Trusted Circle...


Another dark night descends over the makeshift walls surrounding the shabbily kept together dwellings that make up the villages grounds. Families lay huddled as the chill of winter is slowly setting in, ridding most trees of their leaves and making the ground hard with frost. Food stores are low, and rations have been set in place. The Jarl insists that all the clan's problems can be solved by one last grand raid, but many question whether he intends to solve their problems by means of self-destruction. While children sit empty bellied and weak in their beds; Jarl Esbjorn Ornolf and his circle of favored Karls sit comfortably in the great hall, feasting upon their choice of meats and discussing their next course. Jarl Esbjorn is a man who grows restless when settled for too long, and he now intends to drag the clan into yet another march towards the lands of Clan Hildir.


"Glory to Odin!" A fat squat man by the name of Bodvar shouts, as Harek Skidisson, one of Jarl Esbjorn's retainers, rattles on about his eagerness to slit Hildir throats. Harek is a large and imposing man of fair hair. Much like his clansmen it has been shaved back on either side and lay braided and cinched with beads that had either been taken as plunder or carved by one of their very own. Most notable of his face is the large scar that is carved across his right brow and juts down towards his jaw. He is built sturdily and looks about as strong as an ox which is the main reason Esbjorn keeps the ogre of a man as his retainer. Though Esbjorn himself is the most intimating of the circle by far. He is a towering brute of a man, and although his hair has gone grey with age, his very aura radiates as ominously as any deadly predator. several scars mar his brows and lips, but it is his piercing eyes that put fear into any man that stands before him. With arms and legs like tree trunks, and a large and wild ashen beard braided with silver bangles; this man has been the keeper of this clan for many years. Most have followed him loyally, and admittedly the fearless warmonger has brought them many glorious victories; but recently, things have taken a turn for the worst....


Unfortunately, only two of the people in the hall have come to notice the stark shift in their leader's sanity. Thorvor Lofgren, another bear of a man that Esbjorn keeps close as a retainer, has been loyal to his Jarl since the very early days of their voyages and adventures. He is, in fact, silently heart broken to watch his friend slip into insanity, and there is a part of him ready to follow Esbjorn to Hel and back. Orn, on the other hand, has slowly become disillusioned with their Jarl and sits in  silent discontent exchanging hard glances with Thorvor. Orn is the youngest Karl present, but he is a skilled warrior and boasts a healthy sand colored beard which he keeps in large flowing knots. The man still has a somewhat youthful face, with features just starting to become more aged as he matures. Though he was once a fervent supporter of Esbjorn, he has come to worry that the man will doom his family; along with all the others. Thorvor and Orn have discussed this in private quite often as of late. The only man who does not seem to care or question any of the Jarl's motives or actions is a man simply known as "Koll".  Koll has always had a feral look in his eye and has always stunk like an animal's den. He does not speak; and instead, growls or grunts, and he is always the first to pick up an axe. He is also quite fond of collecting the heads of his fallen foes.


As the night grows darker and colder, Hunters return from their temporary shelters bringing back what food they can, while others roam restlessly about the grounds--- the spark of rebellion growing in their eyes...

... And so it begins
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[InkedFox]

Open
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[ If your character has been okayed-- you may begin posting ]
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[CommradeBadger]

As the sun fell from the sky, casting brilliant colors as it set, night watchers would spot a man approaching the settlement. Behind him, he dragged a large wooden sled, loaded down with four dead deer, and covered in snow coated branches. As he arrived in the settlement, he said nothing to anyone, only scowling at the night watchers attempting to greet him with levity. He merely grunted at their welcome and continued moving to the drying racks. When he had arrived, he dropped his sled and went to work tossing the snow and ice from the cover, revealing the chilled deer carcasses, kept from spoiling on the long trip by the ice and snow.


With a grunt of effort, the man set to work lifting the bodies up onto the skinning area, moving back to the sled to collect his tools. Among the various skinning and prepping implements was a thick yew hunting bow, one of the signatures of Olev Usleif, the Stray. Olev had earned the name Stray from his arrival to the clan. His own clan had been killed off by illness and weakness, causing Olev to be forced to find a new home. While he was fortunate enough to be taken in by Jarl Esbjorn, Olev held no love for the man. The hunter had lived in a warmongering clan once before, and the look in the Jarl's eyes sang that same song, it was just a matter of time. Olev gave a grunt of frustration at these thoughts, shaking his mind free from all but his task before drawing his skinning knife from it's scabbard, giving it a few runs over the local sharpening stone before getting to work gutting and cleaning the four deer he had strung up.

 

[InkedFox]

Brunnhilde


Thick paws came bounding over, a bushy wagging tail in tow. The beast began to sniff the air and ground, taking note of the scent of fresh kills. The flopped ears on the mutt perked when it's coal black eyes settled onto the familiar form. "Woof!" the hunting dog happily greeted the man and pranced about his legs making his journey to and from his sled and the skinning area more arduous then it had to be. Though, nearly as big as a bear itself, the hunting dog was clumsily with his frolic and knocked into the hunter's legs, completely disregarding his usually sour sounding grunts and annoyed huffs at the beast's playful nature.


"Oh Olaf! Leave the poor man alone --he's been at it all week!" A cheerful and warm tone broke the chill in the air. A rosy cheeked young woman of a statuesque nature attempted to wrestle her dog into a calmer posture. "Hullo Olev!" She chirped mirthfully at the silent hunter, while doing her best to calm the giddy bear dog. This was Brunnhilde, a sweet and nurturing woman by nature, and many often questioned how she ever survived in a violence driven clan such as this. Though, despite her talkative and jolly demeanor, she was one of the more capable shield maidens, though sorely underestimated due to her inclination toward more domestic tasks. Brunnhilde liked to be useful and would often throw herself into whatever work needed to be done around the keep. Some appreciated the initiative, while others found her somewhat annoying due to her inability to stop talking.


"How was hunting? Oh! I see you hauled in quite a bit there-- Here let me help!" As spry and cheerful as ever despite the current situation in the keep, Hilde happily went to work easily hoisting the frozen carcasses up two at a time and setting them onto the butchering tables to be skinned down and gutted. "Did you enjoy your hunt? It's been awfully boring around here --but father says that the jarl is ready to take us over the mountains into the Hildir's land. I think it's starting to wear on Papa, and folks here too are all having a hard time..." Her voice died to an unusual melancholy, but as if a switch had been flipped she started right back into it. "Thank goodness you're here, Olev! If it wasn't for you most folks would starve! Pa's friend says its about time we head south-- 'pposedly the land's easier to work there." She let out a wistful sigh. "I've never really thought about what the future of the clan will be like, I've always just did as my papa told me to, but it seems like no one can agree on what to do now." Her hunting dog settled down near the skinning table and whined at her for attention. She ran a mindless hand over the dog's ears. "What do you think we should do Olev?" The woman glanced over her shoulder at the silent hunter, but as if on impulse she was at it again. "I mean-- it isn't so bad. The sow is pregnant with piglets and the chicken coop still has a few hens and a cock left. It's not as dire as everyone thinks." Though her last statement sounded more like she was trying to convince herself rather then Olev.

 

[fluffdaydreams]

Siv


The jolly and cacophonous laughter inside the Great Hall clashed with the otherwise cold and grim atmosphere that was lived outside. The men jested and boasted, the jarl loudest of all...all celebrating the victory of a raid that hadn't occurred yet. Siv observed from the back of the hall, making herself as small as she could, keeping herself away from the sight of the men, if possible. She was to serve the mead and the ale, and keep the meat from burning; and while that on itself wasn't a difficult or uncomfortable task, it was the glimpses and touches and words the Jarl gave her in passing that made the healer's skin crawl and her resolve to falter. Nights like this one were the worst, the alcohol making him bolder, aggressive, rougher...and in a silent prayer to Frigga, she hoped he would be too drunk on ale and mead and wine to even look at her back in his private quarters. 


The rich scents of the stew and the roasted mutton that was cooking at the hearth in the middle of the hall reached Siv's nose and her stomach knotted in hunger. A bruised hand pressed over her abdomen, almost as if afraid the men would hear the loud grumbles, before pushing herself off the wall, keeping alert for any need of her. A breath escaped her when she saw Harek waving his hand at her; the petite healer walked over to him, her gaze down, refilling his flagon with the strong mead.


To think she would end like this: a thrall in a stranger village...She had been a known healer woman back in her village. She knew which plants would cure a stomachache, which ones would ease a woman’s nerves, which ones could put a huge man to sleep…She could clean wounds, sew skin and muscle back together, crack bones back into place. She knew which runes would bring protection for someone’s health, which chants to sing. And still…


She looked at her bony hands, callouses on slender fingers, new bruises coloring the pale skin with faint purple and sickly green. Her hands balled up into fists, and for an instant…Siv felt like throwing the flagon at the men who had brought her here…she felt like slipping enough hemlock in the Jarl's drink, let him see as he writhe, see the life dimming in his eyes...slowly...painfully. And then, her hands relaxed, and the young woman was startled by her own thoughts, flinching and lowering her gaze again, feeling that if any of they saw her right now, they would be able to read her intentions in her eyes. "Frigga help me..." 


Excusing herself meekly, with the excuse of going to get more water, Siv stepped outside of the longhall, her body shivering and protesting the lost of heat. It was getting colder. And it felt wrong...so wrong, being back there, seeing the opulence...with so many struggling out here. Violet eyes saw movement near the skinning area, and lights in the butcher house, and she knew the hunters were coming back after a long day. Had they gotten game? Would they even have enough this far into the winter? She could only hope...