Sound the Gjallarhorn and dig out your ear spoons.
It's time for another episode of Vikings and Valkyries, an actual play podcast featuring the reimagined Ragnarok of When the Wolf Comes.
I am Ian Stuart Sharpe, your mound hastener for this evening, ready to digest my cleverly crafted Kennings, are Gamers, Bill, Steve, Mike and CJ.
Welcome, Wormfood. Hi.
It's a promising start.
That was a warmer welcome than some other ones. That's good.
Yeah, no, that was good.
I was trying to be polite and welcoming that time around.
Now, Bill and Steve, we know you from the oldie times of yore, both as characters and humans who've lingered perhaps too long on this world.
Bill, a little bit of an intro to you. We know you as a jack of all trades or in Norse, a þúsundþjalasmiður, the equivalent being a craftsman of a thousand rasps.
You're a professional dungeon master in your spare time. How do you think we're doing from a kind of critical eye?
Well, I think the thing that I've been enjoying tremendously when I take folks through a dungeon or a game of any kind, an RPG of any kind, is the creative way I bring death to the players.
And although I frequently am the only one who seems to be laughing out loud, I take it as a given that the players, even the dead ones, are laughing on the inside.
So it's going quite well. I'm very positive.
Good. Well, you've exposed several people's insides over the past two episodes by having them eviscerated.
Steve, I presume that you're calling in from the labyrinthe below Bill's house now.
Bill doesn't know that.
He doesn't know that. He hasn't just in tuned.
We weren't going to talk about that.
And now we weren't going to talk about that. I've implanted all the surveillance devices I need. He's being well cared for.
You yourself has penned many works of fiction. So is the novelization of this podcast in the works?
It is. Absolutely. It's gone very well.
I think you'll find the novelized version to be greatly enhanced over the visual version, particularly the scene I added with my character and the group of Valkyries.
I think it'll really turn out well. We just have to get the right casting for it.
I look forward to reading it. We'll check back next week to see how many more pages you have turned in.
Now, CJ and Mike are newcomers to the game, and that's partly because everyone else keeps dying.
CJ, you host the Vikingology podcast as well as writing Viking sagas yourself.
Do you think your Norse expertise will give you what it takes to survive?
That really depends on what you throw at us. So far from what I've listened to, I have very little hope.
But that's OK. It's out of my control. We'll let fate decide.
And Mike, you are a giant among men on the tech scene, but a humble initiate when it comes to the gaming table.
Have you done any special prep to avoid being thrown to the wolves?
I admittedly am completely new to this. So I grabbed every lifeline and life preserver I could.
I've read what I could in the short time, and I'm excited. Whether I'm prepared or not, I don't really know if I am.
What I liked about our interaction over the past couple of days is you took the whole PDF and you gave it to the AI,
the great AI gods, in order to digest it and make sense of it for you.
And in just five minutes, they took my 400-page rulebook and they turned it into a 10-minute piece of badinage.
What do you think? Did that make head or tail of it for you?
Well, I can tell you the Google's Notebook LM podcast hosts are far more engaging than you are so far, Ian.
So you have competition.
Welcome, Michael.
Yeah.
But I really think there's a name change afoot because they kept referring to you as Sharpay.
It's a very difficult name to pronounce. Sharp.
Sharpay. It's the physical resemblance, is it?
Sharp to the Sharpay.
Sharpay, yeah.
It's very simple. It's one syllable. My grandfather added the E because he wanted to be a bit more pretentious
and have nothing to do with the common or garden Sharps without any. But here we are.
Mike, thank you for being so kind in your intro there.
We'll try to be equally gentle with you as a novice to role-playing and hope that you survive these next couple of hours.
We really should have set you up with one of the Sons of Ivaldi characters who were the origins
where these incredibly wealthy technocrats upload their consciousness into machines.
Now, before we start on today's saga, I do want to test your Norse metal, a little warm up perhaps to get your
thwz working and your rrrs rolling. We talked in the intro there about kennings.
CJ, you've probably got a good definition for a kenning for me.
The poem.
Well, it is a structured saying.
Yeah, a compound expression from old Norse poetry.
It often has a metaphorical meaning. Instead of saying the word ship, the Norse would say oar steed.
So to get us in the mood, I'm going to give you a pop quiz to start this episode.
I'm going to give you two kennings and I will get your fingers on the buzzers.
And the person who can guess the answer to what this kenning represents, I'm going to give an inspiration point
just to make it a little bit more interesting.
So if you heard the old Norse kenning of the trout of the beach, what would I be referring to?
Me on holiday.
Oysters or clams, a shellfish of some kind.
No correct answers yet.
Trout of the beach.
Beach as in B-E-A-C-H, not B-I-T.
The sandy beach.
Checking the context.
It's like a walrus or something.
I'm afraid I'm going to have to give it to you. It is a serpent.
A serpent in Old Norse. One of the kennings for serpent would be the trout of the beach.
I'll give you another one. Perhaps this one will be a little bit easier.
This one is the thong of the bedmate of Þundr.
I'll repeat it for you.
The thong of the bedmate of Þundr.
500 bucks a night.
No, not the one.
Not the one. Perhaps a special offer you saw in the old lechon.
We heard thong and our brains locked up.
CJ, anything?
A noose?
It's not bad.
I get a sense that CJ's scholarship is not so focused on all the dirty stuff.
He's referred to a book, right?
He's much more erudite.
I'll give it to you again. Sadly, the inspiration points do not go to the uninspired.
The thong of the bedmate of Þundr is actually just another kenning for serpent.
The whole point of Norse mythology is to, in a very convoluted way,
instead of saying snake, just come up with these much more poetical.
What is wrong with these people?
For newer players, I want to point out that the GM constantly gives little hints
that are not clearly hints until much after it would have been useful to have known that that was a hint.
Oh, well, as you see that.
When we get into Mike's character, I wanted to give him a little bit of a warm-up
because he has got a connection to serpents and snakes that will become clear when we intro his character.
Let's dive into this week's thrilling installment, which is the second adventure in the Thought and Memory saga.
It is entitled The Book of Daniel.
It takes place a couple of weeks after we left the events of Nobody Dies in Hjalpmakaar.
Bill, your character Ljomi, and Steve, your character Eir, are the survivors of the Holmgang
with the Jarl of the Town, a guy called Finnbogi,
Gnocchi to his friends, who he regularly impales upon his sword.
Can you tell me a little bit about what you've been up to in the past two weeks of downtime?
Because you have leveled up to level one and been keeping yourselves gainfully unemployed.
Shall I begin?
I wish you would.
Okay, so speaking as Ljomi, we've been sitting in this cabin,
the cabin of Ornus and Bjarni Fartzite, the dead guy.
Respectful as always.
Yes. Well, men, you know.
Let's hope his shade does not come back to haunt you.
It is indeed. Let's hope not.
And although I remain active in this building of found wood and rotting iron,
covered in rust and filled with insects,
Eir has, let's say, chosen to simply sit and stare,
statue-like into the near distance, the far distance, who can tell.
I'm choosing instead to embrace the world of the living,
and thus as a lesson to the abomination.
I have encouraged many of the local insects to join the throngs already in residence on my person.
We make a lively and happy family. My soul rejoices.
And I introduce each new member of the family to the atrocity, but he seems not to care.
So you're saying you're festooned with cockroaches.
I am with cockroaches and other members of the family I had previously.
And it has occurred to me that maybe Eir is not just sitting staring, but, happy thought, perhaps he has died.
I am living in hell.
I am occupying this wretched little hovel with a tree covered in bugs.
It smells of insect waste. It smells of his waste, for that matter.
This is one of the most depressing places I've ever been in.
I sit and I contemplate what sequence of events in life and after life led me to this point.
I can't really think of a good reason.
I'm reminded repeatedly during the day that yes, in fact, I am an abomination.
And I think longingly of the Troll's tongue and look forward to the day when I perhaps will yeet myself off of it
in the hopes of ending this existence and returning to the afterlife from which I was wrenched.
But for now, I shall sit here in my magnificent stone prison and watch without comprehension
while this bizarre roommate seems to enjoy having cockroaches crawling all over his body.
Well, if you wouldn't mind just giving us a brief insight into your chosen path.
You have both perversely and bizarrely chosen the path of the wise.
Well, we have both taken the path of wisdom, presumably in the hopes of finding some.
The world of the living has very little to commend it and very little of it makes sense.
I have decided that if I'm going to be sentenced to spend some time here back in the world of the living against my will,
the least I can do is try to make things more interesting for myself and for others near me.
And so I've managed to work on learning a few skills that I think will lead to my considerable amusement.
So you have now spells at your disposal.
I do a few tricks I've picked up.
And Bill, you've been singing soft lullabies to Eir, have you?
To Eir to the bugs.
You know, it is true that we have seen our share of death on these adventures.
And it's taught me to to look to embrace life and health and growth.
And that's the reason I'm following the path of the wise.
Unlike my dour companion, I'll be calling up the living force of the great tree, Yggdrasil,
and learning the craft of spell song.
And it will help me find the secret path or it will help me bring the biting charms against my enemies.
Or I will sing the dirge of death or perform the glorious weapon song.
That's bringing light and health to life.
All right. Well, thank you for that little recap.
Now entering into this scene, the world's edge, the town of Hjálpmakaar,
a frozen bunion on the backside of the north come two new characters.
CJ, would you like to tell us a little bit about who you are playing and why on earth you are here?
I will be playing the role of Grjotgarð, the magnificent. Grjot, grjot, Grjotgarð.
I've got to get it right because I'm going to be holding you all accountable to get it right as well.
He is a Jöfurr, a Jöfurr. So how do I describe the Jöfurr?
Let's see. Think of Star Trek, Wrath of Khan.
He's Khan, genetically enhanced, jeans spliced, also in that vein.
His entire race think of themselves as demigods, exceptionally wealthy,
superior to men in all ways, shapes or form.
But also I find really interesting about this race as far as professions are concerned, none.
A life of leisure growing up.
Some things to note about Grjotgarð, the magnificent,
a silver medalist in the toga hönk, essentially tug of war, toga hönk at the all Asgard games.
And I do love that, that you basically spent your entire fortune, heritage, reputation
on basically tug of war and winning a silver medal.
So I presume that you're lined with muscles and rippling with sinew.
Well, about that. So yes, large, let's see, builds like Ganger-Hrólf.
So large that I cannot ride a horse, evidently. I don't know if that's hyperbole or not. We shall find out.
And also in terms of physical appearance, like a peacock, very vain, showy clothes.
Quite the eccentric character, I think, we're about to find out.
And can you tell us a little bit of why you were in the frozen north or is that a deep and dark secret?
As much as, well, you know what? I'm going to let Grjotgarð, the magnificent, tell you.
I'm looking for something and it's none of your business.
Very good. Now, if I'm correct, and my north might be a little bit rusty, doesn't that translate to rock hard?
Grjotgarð? I think it translates to rock hard. I might be wrong.
Again, I didn't want to sully your good name so early on. So we will stick with Grjotgarð.
The idea is the Jöfurr named themselves after famous heroes and gods because they believe themselves to be of that level.
So he is so named after Grjotgarð, the king of Laid, father to Hakon, first king of Laid.
Oh, that one. Oh, yeah.
An illustrious lineage.
On the mother's side.
The funny thing is, Bill, you probably...
Yeah, knew him.
Actually knew him because you're a dead Viking spirit in a tree body.
I remember the historic girth part. I remember meeting him. I committed his name to memory.
That sort of thing comes to me easily. As men go, not bad.
Do you feel that a thousand years being caged in an arboreal body has somewhat attenuated your memory?
Not at all. And I have the bugs. Did I mention the bugs? I have a lot of bugs.
CJ, anything else you would like to tell us about your new entrant into this Merry Throne?
I really think we should let him speak for himself.
Very good. I look forward to it.
Now, Mike, we rolled you up a character just over the weekend.
Would you like to introduce Eric Raudserk?
Well, Eric Raudserk, he's an interesting character. He's a grisly, haggard guy.
He's, you know, kind of 40 years old.
You know, I'm prematurely aged because I've just had a hard scrabble existence.
Because you've been on this podcast too long.
Yeah, that's right. You know, medium height, broad and somewhat athletic.
Huge fan of Gríotgárd because of the Asgard Games.
I won modest fame as a glíma, which is wrestling, for those of you who need that information.
My personality, I consider, you know, he's noble. He's committed to what is right.
Even if insisting on it would cost me my life, his life, he'd do it.
And something that's interesting, he's also a follower of Fanqool, if I'm pronouncing that correct.
And what is Fanqool?
Well, it is a religion that is really kind of, it's all about snakes and serpents.
They worship them. They are creatures that they are totally just engaged with.
And they pray to them. And I've actually wrote a prayer.
That's nice. Do you want to recite it now or would there be a moment later on where you wish to begin?
I'm sure. I'm sure. Should I do it now?
Sure. Give us a taste of your forked tongue.
Okay.
O sacred serpent, wise and silent guide, in your shedding grant us renewal. In your patience teach us peace.
There you go.
That's one. Should we all say amen at the end of that or just bang a hammer on the...
No, no, no. You have to do the...
Very sibilant.
A point of erudition, if I might. I believe in the Norse world serpents were referred to as the route of the bitch.
So that's something you guys can just remember that, kind of color the performance tonight.
Have the termites completely burrowed through your brain?
Sorry, the termites are speaking to me right now.
Thank you. Thank you, Mike, for the intro. So given that you are a kind of semi-famous, semi-retired wrestler,
are we looking at those kind of WWE legends like there are the Viking Raiders or are you more like a Papa Shango or The Undertaker?
Probably. I mean, I'm shocked that you know that much about WWE.
He knows everything.
I think I actually have a little of that right now.
But I'm probably more in the line of a more subdued character.
Probably, you know, and I don't know anything about WWE, but other than Hulk Hogan.
I think I'm slightly more subdued than Hulk Hogan.
It probably is a little bit too cold outside for spandex.
Yeah, and I'm not ripping my shirt off.
Okay, very good. But you do you are somewhat enamored with CJ's character in the same way as that Bill is somewhat disparaging of Steve's character.
I thought it was just Steve he was disparaging.
Art and life, you know, they mingle.
Bill, we were supposed to make characters to roleplay rather than just being ourselves.
Yeah, I don't know. That sounds like work, Steve.
Well, I'm going to open this scene in this new adventure, the book of Daniel.
We're going to open it in Hjalpmakar, same place as we left off.
It is still high summer.
The world's edges warmed by the glowing midnight sun that toils in the sky.
The coastal ice has melted somewhat, allowing for the safe passage of ships.
And on one of those ships come your two new companions as they enter into the town, searching for something in a given directions to what passes for a door.
Obviously, the trapper cabin that you've been living in for the past two weeks is ramshackle.
And the door is barely on its hinges. But amidst the frenzy of squawking birds that announced their arrival, I will hand over to CJ to wrap on your door and disturb you from whatever space you were staring into.
Did you hear that?
I just made my dog bark. Unusual foley work there.
Hello, is anyone home?
Atrocity, can you answer that please? I'm adopting.
No, I'm not your servant. Answer it yourself.
Answer it. Oh, very well. Come along, children.
I open the door.
Yes. Man.
Hello there. Thing.
Yes, I'm adopting. What did you need?
I'm looking for something. An escaped dverg thrall.
Have you seen one?
We had a we had a device traveling with us for some time.
Quite gooey.
Gooey?
Yes, he was constantly leaking lubricants.
And prone to acts of affection.
Have you woken up then, Atrocity? Is that what's going on?
Hello, hello, I'm the Atrocity.
It's good you've embraced it.
I have no choice.
We had a machine. There was a machine. The machine was one of the locals.
Some fellow, Goal Becky, Do Donkey.
Something along those lines.
He chopped it in half. It was horrible and completely without merit.
And we did nothing to bring that on ourselves.
Immediately behind you, you are interrupted by yet more thumping.
Your conversation is difficult to carry on because behind you is a huge, evil-looking Jotun who is pummeling a stake into the ground.
The creature has a great humped back that she carries higher than her head.
One eye in the middle of her forehead, two overgrown teeth stuck out from her chops, and her bottom lip hangs down to her chest.
And you realize that she really would be able to give a powerful kiss if her ability to maneuver her lip matched its size.
Ljomi, I think she's here for you.
Exactly what this Jotun is doing becomes apparent as you crane your next round.
You find that she's hammering a fish skull onto the post.
The post itself is etched with runes.
And she turns this fish skull round before slathering another one on top, impaling it so that there are two.
Then she adds a third each of the heads she turns towards you.
And you recognize that she has been creating a nithing pole or a curse pole.
CJ, perhaps you know something about those with your Norse background?
Yes, the question is where is she pointing the nithing pole?
She is pointing it generally in the direction of the heart.
But the gaze encompasses all of you, their glazed eyes staring dead-like.
But the teeth themselves, despite being dislodged from the body and gnashing,
these needle-like teeth are continuing to twitch and snarl.
The Jotun begins to say to you, prowling shadows, slayers of my kindred skin,
here lies a time, this curse pole and this curse I turn to you, bear biters.
I think she's cursing us.
This curse I turn also on the álfar who dwell in this land
that they may fall to blight until their ignorant servants do penance for their crimes.
You cannot turn from your fate, for it is bound to the ice. The bear is our blood.
I feel like she's trying to speak with us, but I can't understand her.
Can anyone here translate?
Ljomi, you speak crazy person, don't you?
Yes, I'll speak to her and I'll use small words.
Please, please.
Greetings, large man thing. What offence have we committed?
I don't understand. My friend is even more confused. Tell me the offence again, please.
I am going to just do a couple of roles in the background.
The curse pole has, it emanates its kind of psychic disturbance.
It places this vexating curse on you.
And Ljomi, as you utter your diatribe, you face six damage and you are also incredibly frightened.
You are seized by terror.
The spell that has been cast from this curse pole has ridden you to your very core.
Sorry, I took six damage?
That is correct.
I'm just checking my spell list.
Is this creature within short range?
The post has been hammered into the ground, into the tundra, immediately outside your shack, as if it were your male brothers.
Okay, is she within short range?
Correct.
I would like to try to get her to, yeah, I would like to use Evil Eye on her.
And make a Wits attack against the target's will. So that would be, we have not attacked her in any way.
We haven't done anything harmful yet.
First of all, as you do that, and you're perfectly willing to do so, but I just want to make sure that with your effect of this curse on you,
you have taken seven damage and you are also horrified, terrified and frightened as this ancient curse reminds you of the Tartars,
the horsemen who attacked your village, their shamanistic qualities all those centuries ago.
And it is so haunting that you are also frightened.
So when you cast your spell, please do so with three woes.
However, it says when he casts his, deep-minded, I make an attack. Does this count as an attack roll? I cast a spell, yeah.
Well, I get one wheel and they, so that's only two woe then for me.
Correct. Because you have taken the path of the wise and it has the talent of being deep-minded.
And you are using your evil eye to effectively wink at this young lady in order to charm her. Please go ahead.
OK, so...
You would make a striking couple, if I may just say.
Well, thanks. OK, so, raise the die twenty and then...
OK, so that is total of, so that's eleven and I'm going to add my wits, so that puts me at fourteen.
Which is a good roll. She finishes pummeling the heads into the ground. The heads themselves continue to denounce and hiss.
But she turns to you and says,
Oh, you look like a promising man to me. I'd be interested to try out such a thing and lose my virginity and have my belly skin stretched.
The gray beast I have between my legs is starting to yawn now and wants to be fun.
I may have overdone that.
Take one for the team.
See, I'm already dead. How much worse can it get?
I do need to. There is collateral damage from the two newcomers who have unfortunately wandered into your bear baiting business.
And so, CJ, I'm going to need you to take seven damage and you are also frightened by this unearthly curse.
And for some reason, Eric, you have entirely shrugged off this curse. You are free.
Perhaps you are made of sterner stuff. Perhaps you have mental fortitude.
Perhaps the gods are smiling on you and you are just lucky.
But nothing has permeated through to you and you are free of the vexation.
Probably because I was like really close to Grjotgarð because I'm such a fan of him. I hid behind him.
Maybe the case. Line of sight. You were so hidden behind his bulging biceps from his toga honk silver medal winning performance that you were saved.
Everyone else though has this curse and unfortunately you don't necessarily know this as players but as individuals here.
You cannot be healed until this curse is lifted.
So Grjotgarð is going to reach back to Eric and say, Eric, Eric, you seem to be immune to this. Will you go kick down that kneeling pole? Please and thank you.
The kneeling pole is the curse pole that's been put in front of you with the fish heads on it.
Again, because you are new to the game, I'm going to remind you, Mike, you do have an ability called Udal right where you can ask the GM one yes no question.
And this is the kind of environment where you might want to ask it. Is it a good idea to kick down the curse pole that has benighted my friends?
I think I will take advantage of that question.
Is it a good idea to go put my shoulder into that pole and take it down like a pro wrestler that I am?
I'm going to say just in the spirit of this, not just a yes no, I'm going to say no, of course not.
Right, because pushing down the pole probably still doesn't lift any of their...
The nature of these curses is it summons the spirits of the land, the land vaettir, to plague and persecute the people to whom the curse is directed at.
So merely removing the pole itself just incenses them further so that you will continue to be grounded until such time as the curse is lifted or you have atoned for whatever sins
the person who has bestowed this curse upon you elaborates as to what that is.
So should I respond to Krakow?
By all means.
Oh my mighty friends, I think that not a good idea. I don't think it will help you and our two new friends if I do so.
Being somewhat of a religious man and knowing curses, I know that that will do nothing to what has befallen us. We must help both you and our two new friends.
That's all well and good. Since you know so much about it, what can you do?
I think we must travel forth and find someone who can lift this curse off of all of you.
Naomi speaks to air, sotto voce and says, can you have a word with your girlfriend, please?
She is out of control.
Yes, she is. Yeah, so does she seem to be responding or paying attention?
She has at this stage her arms draped around you as revealing a rather fetid armpit and the two teeth I mentioned protruding above her lip are now resting daintily on your ornate stone shoulder.
Well, beggars can't be choosers.
So, good woman, can you tell us why we have been cursed?
Daniel has placed this curse upon you. He sends me where the curse fall. You have offended him.
Who?
Only Daniel can believe you are this curse.
Did you say only a banjo can lift you from this curse?
I just kind of what I heard. So, a banjo.
Why does this sound as if she's trying to speak to us?
It is starting to fall into place.
Again, sotto voce. I say. Why doesn't she talk properly?
Sotto voce, did you understand any of that?
No.
Sorry, what was the name again who placed the sotte voce?
Daniel.
Oh, Daniel.
He is the headman of the village of Spikbotg.
Spaniel, I've got it now. Spaniel.
Spaniel from Sicabog. Spaniel from Spaniel. Okay.
What have we done to offend Spaniel of Ichabod?
You have baited the bear.
You baited the bear?
Bear, you allowed the bear to eat two of our friends.
That's what you did. And they were all paying for it.
It's just the sort of thing I'd expect.
Yes, that's right. Yes.
So, the crime was that someone's bear ate our friends.
And we are to be held responsible for this?
You must speak to Daniel. I can only give you pieces.
Yeah.
What an eccentric performance.
Thank you.
Now, the Jotnar are all refugees from the war, the Jotun War that raged for several decades.
The Jotuns were on the losing side, but there are some refugee camps on the southern side of Heimslit.
Spikborg itself, the name means blubber town.
They make a living there as whalers, cleansing the whales and bringing their oil,
the so-called gold of the sea from the southern shore of the island archipelago.
That is presumably where this Jotun has come from or been sent by her headman, Daniel.
There's a couple of other things that I will, in the interest of elucidation,
because the accent is perhaps a little challenging for you off-worlders.
She said in her curse, prowling shadows, slayers of my kindred's kin.
And then she killed you bare-baters, and she turned this curse on the alfar who dwell in this land.
The alfar?
And just bear in mind that you are not the only two alfar.
Oh, yes, there's...
So other trees have been misbehaving, so we need to be punished?
I think we've misbehaved.
What did you do?
Old... No, it's what you did, and Old Dungar is the alfar at the temple.
Old Dungar what?
Oldungr.
Old Dungar, OK.
Old Dungar. His picture is up on roll 20 if you look in the journal section.
Oldungr is the priest of the Temple of the Bear,
whom you had tried to get to deliver expert testimony before the Hong Gang in your last adventure.
In actual fact, he took you under his wing, or under his branch, under his eaves,
and he has been given some kind of instruction in the arts of the wise to Mr. Hopkins, to Bill, and his character Ljomi.
Right.
OK, so we need to find this Daniel of...
I wrote down Ichabod, and I'm pretty sure that's not right, because...
Spikborg.
I wrote down Ichabod also, Steve.
Yeah, I know, and that's why I... Yeah, thank you. Thank you, everyone.
Spikborg, right.
This wonderful...
He was commanded at a curse to be laid upon us because the bear of a completely unrelated person ate several of our friends.
There's a connection I'm not getting.
No, that's the connection. You've got it.
We should move forward. We should speak to my friend, Old Dungar.
You have a friend?
Yes, to Old Dungar. I'll put in a good word for you. I can't promise anything.
And the men might as well follow us. That's my feeling.
Because we may run into more bears, and we know how to use men when we run into bears.
We know their purpose.
We do.
I'm not entirely sure that CJ would like being referred to as a man, since he is the genetically enhanced jofurr.
Ah.
Yeah, how could you be so insensitive?
All right, so the wafer and the man will follow us, then.
What are you, like, not a man?
You have names? No, the other one's the man. You're the wafer. You have names?
Hmm. My name is Eric.
Urkel, yes. What's your last name?
Raudserk.
Urkel Red Silk. Got it. And you, the not-man?
I am Grjotgarð the Magnificent.
Grythfod the Malaprop. Got it.
No, no, no. Grjotgarð. Gryotgarth.
Grjotgarð.
Look, look. I understand. It's a hard name to pronounce. My friends call me Gigi.
Sold.
Gigi.
It's difficult talking when your lips are made of bark and you have beetles going in and out of them the whole time.
They also burrow into his memory and eat it, apparently.
I will transport you to the Temple of the Bear, sitting slightly to the outskirts of the town.
Are you coming with us or staying here with your lady friend?
I think I should bring her with me.
Please do not leave me, Lover Boy.
You make a compelling offer, I have to say.
Why don't we find somewhere quiet and I will caress your gilded cage?
I want this to be special, so if you stay here, I will be back in an hour and a half.
And it will be an experience you won't soon forget.
Seems reasonable. Now, the Temple of the Bear, as I said, it's akin to a huge timber mead hall.
It's adorned with intricate carvings of bear paws, roaring bear heads, and the statues of the gods.
These are the hallowed grounds where the townsfolk revere and honor the Isbjorn,
the divine emblem of courage and primal power.
You have been here before seeking audience counsel and you can do so again.
The doors are always open to the brethren of the bear.
Right. Ljomi walks into the temple and calls out, Brother! Brother!
Brother! Brother! Oh, it is good to see you. I had fear that the worst had befallen you.
In some respects, brother, it has. I still travel.
Heavy matters, heavy matters. Such a curse! I have never seen heaven-soul gin. In summer, a savage clamor.
How are the bear cubs? Do they prosper?
It is so kind of you to ask. They do well despite the lack of their mother's care.
My companions and I, there is the atrocity who you met before.
I have Urkel and Gerthfart with me as well. Two men, well, one man, one bigger man, I think.
The distinction is lost on me. We seem to have been cursed, except for Urkel.
And I wonder if you had knowledge in how to deal with this terrible affliction.
We are badly injured, in fact.
Do you have incurred, dear parishioner, a plague most cruel and unkind, imposed by those who hunt the noblest beyond with impunity?
These worshippers of the White Christ, with rights most dark and sacrilegious, have cast upon you a curse, a tempest, a tribulation to the poor men, who lie so.
It is not a hex easily undone, nor a charm to take lightly. Barely the bear's fierce grip it clings to.
How would we, I worry not for myself, but for my companion, how would we rid ourselves of this terrible curse?
Stay thou, course, thou son of Midgard, and hear this year's song. You must high to the court of the crafty yought.
Thank you, thank you, brother. We will seek out this spaniel of Ichabod.
Make your best haste and go to Spikborg, to the court of Daniel, a place famed for the Christian that keep upon it.
And as you enter his realm, be sure to persuade him to leave the Ispion alone, to forestall his hunting.
We will discuss this with him. It will be our primary goal.
Please do bring an end to their barbarous practices.
Yes, brother.
Ljomi turns to the two, the human and the superhuman, shall we call them, the superman, as it were,
and suggests perhaps the donation would be in order.
We gave a donation last time we were here, a very generous donation of a full crown.
Something along those lines would be a good idea.
The blessings of the gods. What say men and not men?
Asgard is actually obscenely wealthy, having been born into the halls of Asgard.
I should probably say more like birthed into the halls of Asgard,
because there is some confusion as to whether they are born naturally or hatched in test tubes, such is their perfection.
So the group, Garth, is staring at you suspiciously about this request.
Well, I made a donate. You may ask my brother, Oldungar.
I gave a donation on behalf of our party to take care of the bear cubs.
He is devoted to the care of the isbjorn, and I think it would be excellent for you to follow in this fashion.
Or perhaps your bedmate or fellow or whatever the relationship is might offer something up.
Anything would be appreciated.
May I just say before I give you any money, you got me into this mess.
You got me cursed, and now you're asking me to pay?
I think the facts will show we were living quite happily in the cabin,
and you show up and all of a sudden there's a great deal of trouble.
And I don't think it's terribly hard, even for a man, to follow the logic of that sort of series of events.
His girlfriend put the damn pole up!
Well, technically she wasn't his girlfriend at the beginning.
She looks like a girlfriend.
Really? Sorry, no, shouldn't judge.
Fine, fine, how much?
Well, as I said, two or three full crowns would probably be good.
In all fairness, that's probably a little excessive.
You last posted a single solitary shilling into the...
I'm not good with the names of the money, particularly.
I'm good with people's names, but not with the money.
The alfar Priest Oldungr takes your generous donation of a shilling and says,
Strain out into the palms of avarice and dishonor,
for therein lurk the beasts of Loki's deceit.
Right.
Very wise.
Andy Tiff.
What?
Question for the GM.
I'm looking at the maps. Which map should I be looking at to be able to spot Spikborg?
Is it on one of the maps?
It is.
Map of the region? Would it be that one?
Map of the region, yeah.
Okay. Oh, okay. Oh, we're a long way.
Might I suggest, brother, that rather than find yourself in Valhall,
where the glory lets go, that you avail yourself of the hospitality of Gunnar Weatherbag
and hire a dog sled team to take you all the way south across the Yolton trails.
It's going to cost me money, isn't it?
Do you have some?
Do I look like I have some? Of course I have some. I'm a jöfurr.
Yes, a jöfurr. Yes.
Is Gunnar, is that the Gunnar at the gun store? He really likes us, as I remember.
Correct. It is. Gunnar Weatherbag.
He is our old friend. Excellent suggestion, brother. Thank you.
And I think we, as a party, will hire our way to Gunnar's gun store.
Bunch your way along the gravel path and find yourself at the visiting neon sign.
It looks out of place because the whole day is lit up by the midnight sun of this polar region,
but it does kind of reflect the glowing cross that is still in the sky.
You notice that the supposed aurora borealis hasn't faded and is still looming large above the town.
It seems to spark with the same neon glow as Gunnar Weatherbag's Travel Emporium sign.
Ljomi turns to our new companions and says, do you, men and not men, do you require foodstuffs, sustenance?
Myself and the atrocity, we need none such things.
You still like food?
Yes, yes, yes. Back when you hurt your knee, I believe. You fell or something. I can't remember.
I had an arrow in the knee.
Something along the... some sort of injury.
And then a sword through the head.
But did it stop me?
Yes, yes it did.
Anyway, are men and not men with the money?
Perhaps you need to acquire some things to survive before we take the dog sled ride, which I believe involves a sled and some dogs.
This is my understanding of it.
How long of a journey are we talking?
Oh, I'm sure you may need several meals. Perhaps Gunnar will be able to tell us. He's very friendly.
Why don't you go in and ask him? He's very friendly.
No, I'm not!
I'm going to disguise myself as...
It's the middle of the bloody night. What are you doing knocking on my door?
I know the sun's in the sky, but haven't you got any airs or graces?
Greetings, friend. We have returned. You had suggested we should come back...
I can see that!
We should come back.
Being the brain obvious!
Yes. Well, here's the thing. You told us to come back when we had money. And we have, in a rather clever way, solved that issue.
And we have money. If I may...
Diamonds, is it? Diamonds ready for the diamond trade? I'd love to get my hands on some of those.
My companion, who's busy doing something right now, he's making a big hit with the ladies, by the way. Very popular in town.
He should be here any moment, I'm sure.
Yeah, he is...
Is it someone you can introduce me to?
Yes.
Probably, yeah. You are...
I used to be quite a charmer in my day, you know.
You're just her type.
One can see it. Anyway, we have the not-man who has great quantities of money, he tells me. And the diamond...
Oh, my word! Oh, I recognize you, don't I? Oh, weren't you the silver medalist in the All Asgard games?
Oh, I think I've got some of your merchandise back here somewhere in the stock room.
Grjotgarð puts his hands on his hips and slits his hair backwards and goes, yes, that's me.
Oh, my word, what a magnificent specimen you are!
Why, thank you.
Steve, what are you disguising yourself as?
Is it... Oh, may I get a...
Graft, have you... Do you inscribe things with runes?
I do, as a matter of fact.
Oh, I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance. Oh, I hope I aren't behaving in a manner unbecoming.
It's just I've never seen anyone quite so illustrious as yourself.
Oh, and hang on, hang on. Isn't this Eric the Redshirt? Isn't this Eric the Redshirt? Oh, my word.
You're aware of his success as a wrestling champion.
I've got trading cards with his face on it. Oh, it's amazing.
What you did in the ring back in... back in 72! I've never seen footwork like it.
Well, thank you very much. I'm surprised that anyone still has those stickers and remembers me.
What are you hanging around with these two reproates for?
We just happened to knock on the door. I was following the great Graft, and we got caught up in this crazy adventure.
I told you, Eric, call me Gigi. Oh, sorry, Gigi.
It's a wonder they haven't been used as firewood.
I think they're so wet that wood would never light.
Well, that one's basically just hot stones, isn't he?
I just met them, so I cannot say.
What can I do for you fine gentlemen? Leave the other two outside, unless you're willing to speak about the diamonds.
Steve, are you... Oh, I haven't... I haven't found the diamonds yet.
I'm untied. Wait for no man. Yeah, but I'm not a man.
Side question to the DM. How do dogs respond to me?
How do dogs respond to you? They just pee on you, don't they?
Yeah, none of us are tree. Yeah, they pee on me.
And welcome it is to. The whole family enjoys it.
I think we've heard a fair amount of dogs responding to you this episode.
Whenever you've spoken, it appears that the dogs have started barking.
Oh, right. Then maybe...
Then I should disguise myself as a nondescript man
in the hopes that we can get aboard the dog sled and away before they lose their minds.
That's a reasonable supposition. You are now using your seiðr spell of Glamour Sight.
I am. If I'm correct, so that you can blend in.
I'm not sure that it affects scent, but for the purposes of this, I will let you get away with it.
What is it, Steve? Steve, I've just heard you referred to as an atrocity.
Yes, that's what he is. Correct.
My character is a dark elf, essentially.
My character was killed long ago and went to the afterlife, had a passable time there.
Then, as a result of someone's malfeasance or misadventure, was dragged forcibly from the afterlife
and encased in this admittedly magnificent stone body that is just a perfect physical specimen made entirely of black stone.
Wow. Whereas I was chosen to inhabit the holy body of a tree.
Not a misadventure. I was chosen because I'm special.
Oh, but you are.
A living statue of the dark elf were yanked from the afterlife by some appalling experiments gone wrong.
And that Viking warrior that died seven centuries ago now inhabits this rock-like facade.
With all the bad attitudes of youth, because I'm twelve hundred years old. He's only seven hundred.
With any luck, I will still get back to the afterlife before you.
Now, you want to hire some dogs? If you want to hire my state team, I'm more than happy to do so, oh, illustrious peacock.
But what I would say is, you know, we'll waive the fee as long as you can get me a nice full blubber pot from Spikborg.
Fill it up with all of that lovely whale oil. I'll make a mint and I'll even share the proceeds with you.
Sounds fair to me.
Well, it's wonderful to work with someone who's actually willing to do a deal without saying they're going to sully themselves with the with commerce, filthy commerce.
Too good for you, is it, Dökkálfar?
Yes.
In his head, he's thinking whatever it takes to make to make this person stop.
Now, the only problem is your elastriousness is I'm not really sure I've got a sled big enough for you, but you're quite a sizable gentleman.
And we might have to whip two sleds together in order to carry your magnificent carriage.
And the problem is?
Well, no, no, no, silly me for bringing it up. No problem at all. I'll get to it straight away.
Man, man speaking, would would the sleds and the dogs be best or one of those machine things?
I don't remember what they're called. They have wheels and tracks and things.
You're talking about the skidverg. This universe is skidoos.
Intelligent skidoos.
Yeah, so they're automated skidoos that are driven by machine intelligence.
Unfortunately, all of the ones that Gunnar has are in for repair and he doesn't own any himself. It's only the dogs that are on display today.
My dog's not good enough for you.
Afraid they're going to nibble at your branches. That's going to toss your stick and chase it.
I welcome all life as my magical path of wisdom shows to anyone who cares to look.
Well, they're well trained beasts. They're loyal to a fault. Make sure no arm comes to them.
We are very careful around all living creatures. I think the record also shows that.
I'll leave you men to discuss the man things. I should be over here soaking in some sunlight.
As we've just talked about Gunnar is very willing to lend a sled or sleds to the team.
You will need to tell me your marching order, so to speak, because each of you will man their own sled with six dogs.
The mighty jöfurr will indeed have 12.
And because you have pride of place, you will also carry the blubber pot, which is a large iron cauldron that will attach to your sled,
which the merchant expects to be filled up as part of your dealings with the Jotnar of Spikborg.
OK.
Did you guys acquire supplies?
No, they went quiet. I assume they're done.
We need food.
Oh, food again.
Of course, of course you do. How foolish of me, your humble servant.
May I, I will provide you with saddlebags and stuff it full of all the finest delicacies that I have in my store.
Man, we also need flares, flores, flures.
Yes, whatever the jöfurr requires, he may have.
We need flares to scare away the day.
And of course, we must make sure that Eric Raudserk is very warm for his journey. We wouldn't want him catching a cold out on the ice.
Please, Eric, do take this seal skin coat with my compliments.
Oh, thank you very much, Gunner. Is it his Gunner, right? Am I saying the name right?
I'm so honored that you remembered my name.
Oh, well, who could forget? Such a fine person.
Oh, I'm blushing. First of all, an autograph in rooms and now all these famous sports people frequenting my sporting goods store.
Perhaps we can talk branding and merchandise when you return.
Happy to help you in any way I can.
He gives you a hearty wave and mushes the sled so that you are well on your way within the hour.
It is an exhilarating ride.
You whip down the glacier on these rickety wooden sleds, the team of dogs bounding in front of you silently, though, because they're so well trained.
The only sound is the scraping of the runners as they cut through the snow and all around you.
The primal mountains are all but a blur.
Anything in particular that you're doing on your journey?
Is it just sitting back, watching the world go by, mushing the dogs?
Or are you engaged in any any banter?
Do you want to give me that marching order so I know who's first?
I believe that Ljomi says the pride of place should go to the not man.
So we fine with that. Do you want to go first, Eric or Gigi?
Gigi can go first. Gigi is looking quite displeased by this entire ordeal.
I just wanted to throw that out there that he's got this kind of...
Just I'm over this. We were doing something. Now I'm stuck on this strange quest to be uncursed. This is just...
He's not having a good time and he's making it very apparent through his body language.
You get used to it.
It's a good reminder that you are all wracked by this psychic pain with the exception of Eric, who appears to be in the prime of his rude health.
Eric, have you got any thoughts on your journey through the tundra?
He's had a lovely day.
I mean, I'm excited just to be near Gigi, but I keep asking him questions about his exploits and he keeps kind of shutting me off in a curt way.
I don't think he's enjoying my inquiries into his past and all of his achievements.
Did you want to share any stories of pulling ropes?
I'm happy to share the stories, but no one's interested in me when you have someone like Gigi around.
Gigi, do you carry your silver medal with you at all times?
No.
Where is it? Is it safely locked away?
It's an Asgard. That's where the jofurr keep their stuff.
Very well. Very wise. You wouldn't want to risk it while riding on sleds with these reprobates.
All right. So as you whip through the tundra, you soon pass by a landmark that you recognize, the Yfir Forest, an old growth forest, something called a knot on the southern spine of the island.
It is known for its millennia old bristlecone pine trees.
The forest itself sits on this isolated ridge. It protrudes from the ice sheet, so the glacier surges around the bedrock and it allows the plant life to survive.
The knot is used for transportation off-world. It is a passage through the greenways, the mechanism by which you can reach other parts of the nine home worlds.
But it's broadly inaccessible. It looks like it's been cordoned off with razor wire.
It certainly looms above you as you rattle nearby, the dogs bounding silently ahead of you.
Now, some of you have got a power score of one or more.
And so if I'm correct, that should be CJ, it should be Bill and it should be Steve. Mike, your character being an oathsworn, more of a warrior, hasn't dabbled with magic.
And perhaps that's one of the reasons why you fended off the curse.
The ones of you with that dalliance in the magical arts, you look over as you soar past the Yfir forest and in the mid distance you see an old man standing on the rise, on the rocky ridge.
He seems to be beckoning you over or waving. He's wearing a hooded, fur lined cape and linen riches.
He stands barefoot despite the icy cold.
Now, Eric, Mike, you only see where the others see a man.
You see a huge, hulking isbjorn, one of the ice bears that patrol and prowl around this region.
And you see, whereas the magicians, the wise among you see something else, you see this immense bear.
I turn my sled towards the figure and announce, Ljomi announces, I shall speak to the creature using small words.
But you see a man, right? You don't see a bear.
Okay. How long does it take me to get to him?
So you're going ahead without comparing with the group, despite the fact that Mike sees a bear?
Yeah.
Despite the fact that you're cursed, that Mike's not cursed, and you're going ahead.
Is Mike the only one who doesn't see a bear? I thought, oh.
No, I'm the only one who sees a bear.
Oh, right. The only one who sees a bear. Oh, I thought it was both the men.
All right. Well, I'm going to rein in just a little. Does anyone else see that man over there?
Say, gentlemen, I do not see a man. I see a bear. Should we not keep far away?
Yes. We've had a bad experience with bears. That seems to be what started all of this.
Well, to be fair, atrocity, our experience was not so terrible.
I think perhaps the menfolk, the man and the not man, should advance towards the bear.
That has served reasonably well in the past, it seems.
The edible ones. Now, there is sense to that. I can't deny it.
So I see a man.
Yes.
Eric sees a bear.
I also see a man.
I also see a man thing.
So is it a man or a bear or both?
Let's send Erkol to ask him. I think that might be good.
Well, if it's a bear, you don't just walk up and introduce yourself.
Well, do you see a bear, not man?
I see a man. Well, what if we sled by and say hello?
Yes. Yes. Lead the way. Excellent.
If it says hello back, it's a man. If it growls, it's a bear.
Yes, precisely. But with speed. So if it growls, we go faster.
As an aside, little tip to the new players. Watch the GM's image.
If he does this, it can be a suggestion.
Yes.
We've taken the wrong tack.
Now, because this is an audio podcast, you need to describe the physical.
Face palm.
Face palm. It could be that I'm just giving you the finger.
Well, I suspect that's what your hands are doing nearly the whole time below the camera anyway.
You fly on the wooden runners, the dogs pounding silently across the tundra.
The tundra is flowering right now in this midsummer season.
The scene does not change.
Eric continues to see a bear on the rise above, looming out of the trees of the Yfir forest.
The rest of you swear that you see an old man beckoning and waving.
Is it a product of the curse? Is it a product of your powers of the wires and your connection to the spirits of the land?
How will you find out?
Friends, I recommend that I go forward much like Gigi suggested.
I use Tree Sight.
Ljomi is going to use tree Sight
Oh, which has a variety of sensors and receptors that enable a creature to detect and respond.
Did normally I get so caught up in the story, I forget all about my character's powers.
Enable creature to detect and respond to input from the physical environment.
The creature makes challenge roles to find hidden or invisible creatures with one wheel and automatically recognizes illusions.
Illusions, I say, for what they are.
Very good. And I do like the eureka moment that crossed the palm of your cross to your face.
I've got a trait that deals with this.
You were thinking it was too early to sacrifice the man.
No, not really. That was never too early.
No, not.
Tree site for the alfar is akin to all of the various and multiple senses that real trees have.
They can tell chemical imbalances in the air.
They can communicate with each other because you're in the middle of the Yfir forest or at least approaching it.
The person that you can see is in the Yfir forest.
You are able to tell that there is some kind of deep and powerful magic involved and that the figure is neither man nor bear, but something all the more powerful.
Certainly not an arctic mirage, but it is something that is of the bones of the earth.
Well, that just sounds interesting.
The name of the tree says atrocity.
Yeah.
The bones of the earth. Similar to you. You may make another friend.
Oh, lucky me.
Do you talk about like, is that a term used to refer to my people, the bones of the earth?
It sounds like it might be.
I was merely talking of something that was more kind of primordial, more primeval, something that would have stretched back to the days of Ymir himself, the Titan from whom the world was forged.
So we're talking something altogether more vast than any of us.
And I feel like as an aside, as a player rather than a character, I should offer, Steve already knows this, but for Michael in particular, who's brand new and CJ has only just met me, although I'm full of ideas, there is no guarantee that any of them are good.
This is known.
My character is a bit pompous, a bit aloof, a bit of a know-it-all who doesn't know a lot. So anyway.
Oh, your character. Yeah.
Life and art, Steve.
Life and art.
Recognizing that the form has been perceived, the man stroke bear, vanishes into the forest, leaving a brush of falling snow that drifts from the branches in his wake.
Whatever it was, was trying to deceive us, which is not a great way to meet new people.
Isn't that how you met your girlfriend?
Yes.
Like I said, not a great way to meet people.
All's fair.
I don't trust it.
I think it probably had some horrible end in mind.
And as soon as we saw through its disguise, the game was up.
Or does someone want to pursue it and make a new friend involuntarily?
Would it help us remove the curse? If no, I suggest we just move. Move on. Keep going.
One other thing, CJ, just as a counterpoint is if that was a creature reminiscent of the old gods, then you're not particularly interested, presumably because you belong to the Church of the New Gods.
And as far as you're concerned, you know, you are a demigod.
Maybe you'd have something in common.
You could share recipes.
And that thing, hold your tongue or whatever is in your mouth, sir.
We will leave that potential encounter, the old man in the fur cloak, and allow you to continue along your way to Spikborg again, following the Jotnar trails over the glacier.
Now, most of these these trails are generally assumed to be safe, but when the weather is bad with strong winds and drifting snow, it's possible to wander into danger.
And it's also possible when the sun is high in the sky that some of the glaciers tend to groan and crack under the weight of passersby.
And unfortunately, this is what happens as you, Gigi, take the lead on your sled.
There is a thunderous crack as loud as lightning shattering stone.
The ice shivers and then the dogs that lead your sled erupt into panicking cries.
The sled plunges nose first through the ice, slipping first an inch and then another.
I'm going to have you make a slight challenge roll to see whether you can swerve and avoid the crevasse that has opened up and threatens to entomb you.
So that is a D20 modified by your slight, which I believe is 11 or 12.
Oh, slight. Oh, yes. Plus one.
Okay. Yeah.
Is it a lucky dice?
Oh, yeah. It's got fire. It's fire.
Oh, that is lucky. Good in the north.
We'll see. Hang on. I need to warm it up.
Although you are on cracking ice.
Oh, yeah.
17 plus 118.
Oh, nice.
The the All Asgardian toga honk champion steers his sled.
Exactly.
There is no one.
There is no one better suited to perform an emergency breaking maneuver.
You have to remember he's riding two sleds at once.
Dude, side by side.
The fanboy is worthy of himself, especially since you're carrying an extra 200 pounds of blubber pot, which would add to the lethal momentum.
But you avoid the demise of those loyal dogs and catastrophe is averted.
Right.
Well, with that, I'm going to go around.
I'm going to go around.
Ljomi turns to Eir and says important note, not just good for bears.
Good for finding peril.
Well done for surviving that.
And you are well done for making the the human cry to allow your comrades to not have to roll as well.
I'm sure they all appreciate that, given their slight scores are in the toilet and we're already injured.
And you're already injured.
We're near death to start with.
I mean, again, we will shimmer dissolve a few more hours past driven by the relentless rhythmic pace of your sled dogs.
You glide into view of the wailing town of Spikborg nestled between the ice laden sea and the budding tundra.
You see on the horizon growing closer all the time a humble sprawl of weathered timber structures.
The Jotnar within are toiling in labor, dragging gargantuan slabs of whale blubber from the shore to their cauldrons.
The air is heavy with a mix of burnt fat and salt spray, a fetid perfume produced from the continuous rendering of the oil.
Would you care to proceed all the way to the town proper?
I would like to disguise myself again.
Yeah, just look like a nondescript human.
Now, in order to do so, you only have one casting of that.
Is it the same day?
It is the same day.
You can all decide to rest before proceeding into town.
You won't heal anything, but you will regain use of such spells that you've casted.
I will allow you to do that.
You were well provisioned, and perhaps it is time to have a quick rest before you face the wrath of Daniel, the headman of the town who placed this curse upon you.
I want to read the description of Spikborg that you gave us a snippet of a while back in, because it has some interesting facts in it, including one of real import to me.
Spikborg, Blubber Town, is made of 16 buildings, including a fort at its center, built ward off interlopers.
The alleys between the buildings are cobbled with drainage gullies.
The settlement is built around the remains of Vjilhelm Bjarnardson centuries ago.
I may have mangled that slightly. And only partially excavated camp.
About 40 Jotnar work here, all monstrous beings.
All the Jotnar are monsters.
I don't think you should speak of Steve's girlfriends like that.
Fair. I certainly wouldn't want to upset him.
Boiling blubber into oil, cleansing whales, great word, cleansing, and coopering casks to pour the oil into, making barrels, in other words.
The town headman, Daniel, came to the island following a messianic vision and is a better rival of the alf-old, Oldungr that I wanted.
It's clear that there is no love lost between Daniel and Oldungr.
Daniel and his Jotnar clearly hunt whales, they clearly hunt bears, they do what is needed to survive on the tundra,
whereas the alf Oldungr wants to preserve nature, want to protect the ísbjörn and regard them as sacred.
So there is a clash of religion, a clash of cultures, a clash of outlook on what the resources of these northern climes are all about.
Alright, so as a party we're resting.
Very good. Now the sun does not set, again it stays glowing in the sky along with the bright red cross.
It might descend to the horizon a little and create a beautiful painter's tapestry of, you can't have a painter's tapestry, a painter's palette of purples.
A canvas of purples and oranges, but then it quickly, the sun again, a Sol quickly ascends into the sky.
As best you're able to, you try and shrug off the pain of the curse, the vexatious nagging in your mind for everyone apart from Erik,
who has a long half-comatose sleep and exudes loud snores.
And the rest in the sunlight does not heal me, even with my alfar nature.
The plague, the pox that has been placed upon you does not enable you to heal, even with the rest.
Alright, okay. Could I heal myself and one other person before the rest and then recharge that?
You have something called the Song of Praise as a skald, as one of the great Norse poets in the heroic tradition.
You are able to invigorate and compel people to behave beyond the norm.
Unfortunately, despite your best efforts to drive people to new heights, it doesn't overcome the curse.
And so whilst you can rest and regain the use, your exhortations before you sleep were of no use.
Such is the power of the curse pole, the nithing pole that has benighted your existence ever since it was hammered outside your hovel.
Just out of interest, what is the gap now between your damage and your health?
Yeah, okay. GM ever says that, Michael? Don't believe the if, just out of interest part.
My health is 10 and I've taken 6 from the initial curse.
Health is 9, I took 7.
Loser.
And CJ?
I was at 16, I took 7.
16?
He really is great.
He is buff and burly.
Now, for those of you who have taken over 50%, you are in the injured status, which in game terms doesn't mean too much.
It does interplay with certain spells and effects, but you just note that you are injured, doesn't apply to CJ, and it doesn't apply to Michael, whose character, Eric, is in rude health.
I'll say.
Enjoying cavorting with the dogs and basking in the reflective glory of his idol, who's spread-eagled across his two sleds, singing you all songs to try and get you.
Is it just me, or is it hard to like these men?
Yeah, it's...
The gods have favorites, you know.
And it's not us.
My character sheet definitely says, you are gregarious, others find you warm, friendly, and open-minded, and make friends easily.
Other humans, perhaps.
That would be true of most normal people, but unfortunately you got saddled with these denizens of death, these spirits of yesteryear, who are really quite sound on the fact that they died and got stuck in these bodies, whereas you are a prime specimen.
Someone that they perhaps once used to know, you were almost like a star-cat figure who died in the same battle as you, Bill.
Yeah.
As far as Gigi's concerned, he thinks he is making quick friends with you guys.
Everybody likes you.
Yeah.
I think these two are kind of like Felix and Oscar from The Odd Couple.
It has been mentioned.
Okay, not the first time that's been mentioned.
Just gets mentioned when they're in supermarkets together.
Anyway, now, having rested and tried to deal with the racking pain of the curse, you are now able to approach the village of Spikborg, these rusted, salt-encrusted buildings that cling together against the biting wind, smoke billows from chimneys that suggest warmth and shelter within.
Yeah, I would like to disguise myself as an ordinary person.
An ordinary man.
Maybe as a Jotnar.
You should be a Jotnar.
I don't think I could pull that off.
So, the scene that greets you, there's this huge whale bone arch. They've taken the jaws of some beast that they've dismembered and taken the flesh off and they've turned the moor into a huge arch that acts as a gateway to the village.
And everything else is adorned with carved whale pieces, the ivory, the baleen that comes from these creatures' pieces, its arms, its armor.
It really is everywhere ornamenting their daily existence. You really can get a sense that they live off the sea.
As you approach the village, you do see a group of Jotnar walk towards you.
One of them is what is perhaps for a woman. She wears a shriveled skin garment, has a skin bag on her head, and her hair is like eagle's feathers that reach right down to her shoulders. Her face resembles more of a wild wolf than a human.
She carries in her hand a large ivory pole and in the other a halberd, which looks very sharp. Treading heavily, she also, you know it is, is just carrying the remnants of two walruses that she's clearly recently slain and dismembered.
Behind her are half a dozen other of these monstrous Jotnar.
So just a point of precision for the jöfurr character, seeing as his upbringing would have included a thorough education in all things.
I just wanted to mention that up to this point, Gigi has been narrating and telling everyone all about whale anatomy and which bone is what.
And so when he encounters this woman, the first question is, what types of bones is she wearing? What would Gigi point out?
They're mainly going to be tusks of teeth from a variety of different beasts. Are you posing that as a pop quiz to your comrades or are you actually asking?
I was asking what she would have on her that he would point out.
Anything that the tundra will divulge, they've been able to get their hands on.
The furs of perhaps arctic foxes, the the hide of reindeer, the pelts of bears, all of those things are what they dress in.
Now there is a rather incongruous greeting that echoes from this woman as she says,
Grace and peace be yours in full measure. Have you come to repent and cast off your sins?
I, uh, Ljomi nudges air in the ribs hard and goes, looks like one of your type.
I don't know what you mean for I am Olaf, a perfectly normal human and certainly not an abomination.
Just the sort of-
Wake up, sleepers, wake up! Rise from death, the light of the white Christ will shine upon you.
Well-
She said we can cast off sins. That might help.
Uh-huh.
Maybe we should learn more.
Yes, as a human you perhaps could, you know, prepare to serve the white Christ.
For what it's worth, I'm going to sort of mimic what Eric does,
because Eric is doing things that look like what normal humans do, so I'm going to sort of, you know, vaguely and probably not very well do the things he does
and assume that that is what looking like a normal person looks like.
So you're mostly gazing at-
How's your butt scratching and-
Uh-huh, butt scratching, got it.
Okay.
Yeah, nose picking.
So you're mostly gazing fondly at the magnificent one, is that what you're telling me?
I'm not going to do a little of that, but I don't want to, you know, I don't want to overdo it, yeah.
So, yeah, ass scratching, nose picking, yeah, that sort of, yeah, okay.
Gotta readjust your crotch every once in a while.
Oh, there's, I notice a lot of that. I remember doing that once, long ago.
I had a crotch worthy of adjusting, but that's all behind me now.
Now, whilst you're busy rearranging your posture and inching your nether regions, the crowd parts
and they almost begin to bow in solemn greeting as another Jotnar strides amongst them
and he yells out,
Oi oi, Savaloy!
He's wearing a polar bear pelt.
He carries a large narwhal horn, perhaps as a sceptre of authority.
It has a sharp end. It's typically the platinum globe that emits a bright light in all directions.
And this character is clearly someone of some importance.
It seems as hail or sleet blows out of his nostrils.
He has a bushy beard and a bald head and hands almost like eagle talons.
Cor blimey cat got your tongue?
Enough of that fucking Codswallop, let me get her butchers at ya.
Ljomi steps forward, that's all I was gonna say.
Welcome to fucking Spickborg, you bunch of murdering cunts.
Are all the Jotar from the UK then? Is that what I'm talking about?
This one speaks in the Jotnar brogue, which is a language of rhyming,
a kind of thieves' camp that grew up in the war on the far-flung realm of Jotunheim,
as you had all of these Christian exiles who fled the empire,
treated as ne'er-do-wells and malcontents when they were spliced with the genes of animals
and the creatures of God's great bounty.
They took on a slightly different approach to language than the traditional Norse.
Ljomi steps forward and says, greetings creature, we seek the one name.
You'll address me as fucking Daniel or I'll break your branches off.
Me old man's brown bread and you come walking in here like the queen of fucking Sheba.
That's Daniel, it's Daniel.
I'm the breaker of rings in these parts. Daniel's the name.
Lor'lummey, bunch of fucking tea leaves telling porkies.
So Grjotgarð is going to step forward and have a conversation with Daniel.
I'm looking forward to hearing them talking to each other.
I'm sure he's a fan as well.
Well, this is Gigi's time to shine.
He's going to put his hands on his hips and split his hair back and give him the million dollar smile.
The million crown smile and says, I'm Grjotgarth, the Magnificent.
And I hear you can remove this curse that I was unjustly given.
Give me one good reason why I shouldn't string you up by your bollocks and leave you twisting in the wind.
I've got you rumbled. You're in a right two and eight.
The inky smudge kicked you out of town and you're short of a sheet.
Let's get down to brass tacks.
Did you mug it then, the deed? Is that why you did the old feller in?
So Grjotgarth is going to look back at the other two and be like, what is he talking about?
I'm sure if I listen quietly, this will all make sense shortly.
Do you speak of the old hunter, Balfrang? His name was difficult.
If you can't get me old dad's name right, get it out of your lips before I wipe it off your face.
You called his dad?
No, you'd killed his dad?!.
Your father's name was? I believe there may be some confusion here.
Bjarnie Bjarnardson. You bear-baiters brought him out onto the ice and had him mauled.
That curse ain't all you got coming to you unless you make amends.
Certainly, we and particularly the men would be interested in making amends.
However, it was really the bear that False Doggy is raising.
I'm not certain of the name.
Feltoggy, something like that. Anyway, he mistreats the sample.
Lick Spittles and Snolly Gosters. I don't need to listen to this.
Now, if you want the curse lifted, you're going to have to make amends. You're going to have to do penance.
Down this path, we're not in the business of holmgang and jewels of honor.
You're going to give arms to the poor benighted fuckers of Spikborg.
We're scraping a living out of the fucking tundra. And what are you people doing?
Look at him! Cock of the fucking North with his peacock feathers.
Ljomi nods, steps back and with a generous sweeping motion of his arm,
gestures towards the two men, particularly the tall one on the double slit.
Yeah? And what?
I believe your solution is there.
Traniel.
Traniel?
Traniel.
Kavnel.
Spramiel.
I have an excellent memory for names. I'm sure it was Traniel. Traniel, perhaps.
Here's what we're going to do. I want the fucking land deed that you guys have half-inched.
I'm his bathbumb. I'm his fucking dustbin lid. All of this is mine by right.
This old archipelago teeming with Aegir's riches all underneath the tundra.
And it's all mine. That deed given to Vilhelm, given to my old grandpa.
Well, I said grandpa. Several steps removed. But all fucking mine.
Ain't getting your hands on it.
Where's the deed gone?
Lured the old bastard into the tundra so you could have him off?
Yes. Well, now, to the GM, I am, I'm just reminding you, I am by training.
I was a Reeve, so I should be able to do a bit of law talking.
And I'm assuming I would understand, as confused as I am, or at least as I'm playing myself,
I would understand the concept of deed. Yes?
Yes. Title deed.
Title deed.
In the same way as that perhaps Manhattan was given by the First Nations to the settlers,
at least in, according to the law, they were handed it over for a handful of beads.
Somewhere back in history, the land deed was assigned by the local Skraeling to, presumably,
an ancestor of this gentleman and his father who appears to have predeceased him.
Ah. All right. Okay. Well, he raises a good point.
Ljomi addresses Daniel and says, I know of what a deed is, I know of what its function is,
but we saw no such document. Are you certain it was in his possession?
Perhaps someone else has taken it from him before we arrived to escort him to the Trolls' Bung,
where he was to execute himself so as not to die in the city,
according to the laws that the men seemed very excited about.
Bloody hell. You wank to your own voice, don't you?
It's fucking taters in the mold outside. Get in. We'll sit down by the fire and discuss it.
What's you done with the body?
We threw it off the Trolls' Bung into the rock below.
You did fucking what? You threw my old man into the fucking fisherman's daughter?
We were told by one of the wheeled things in town that he was dying
and needed to be dealt with according to the rules of the town, so we were following that commission.
Fuck me, if I told you to just walk off into the ice and dunk your head in the fucking sea, would you do it?
Not again.
Did that sound in any way like it was a sensible fucking thing to do with all of my wealth tucked up in that old bastard's ho-
We, uh-
Is that how they keep it?
We, in his coat, did you say? In his coat?
Well, we've had you surveilled. It's not in his fucking cabin, is it? Because otherwise we'd have found it.
My assistant here, this other man who stands very quietly, he searched your father's remains after the bear attack and found no documents of any kind.
I believe the crime you're alluding to occurred before our engagement in what was really a mission of mercy and love and peace and bears, unfortunately.
I've added something to you. What about you? And he looks at you, CJ, and he says,
What's your story? You've got less brains than a packet of pork scratchings. Your mug's so ugly, even your mam's blushing.
I've seen better faces on the backside of a fucking baboon. I beg your pardon, those things are all absolutely false.
He casts his eye over to Eric next and says, What about you? About as much fucking use as a chocolate teapot or a knitted condom, ain't ya?
I'm a big fan of knitted condoms.
Well, you can kindly fuck off then.
Right, this is what we're gonna do. If you were expecting a happy ending, well, I'm sorry, it's just not that kind of fucking massage parlour.
You're gonna come out and you're gonna do the whale one. You're gonna get out there on the ice, you're gonna earn your keep, you're gonna get me some blubber, and then I'll think about lifting the curse.
We actually need the blubber, so yes, that works, mostly. Or, I have an idea. Since you love your grandfather so much, I can write you a poem about him, about his great deeds.
To live forever in memory.
A poem, eh?
Have you ever received such a gift?
Eh, dearie, then?
Well, you'll have to tell me about your grandfather and all the wonderful things that he did that you love him and remember him for before he was passed into a ravine by these...national phenomena.
Let's do this then. What we're gonna do, we're gonna have a right old knees up. First of all, we're gonna go get ourselves some blubber.
Then, once we've done a good old day's hard work and toil, we're gonna come here, we're gonna have a fire, we're gonna have a feast, and you can tell me all about it.
What do you say to that, you big tom tit?
As long as the curse is removed, that, by the way, must I remind you, was improperly cast upon me, I was just standing there, minding my own business, looking for...something. It's none of your business.
Anyone got anything else to say before the various jotnar around you heard you towards the makeshift jetty, the dock that juts out into the ice-strewn sea, you are asked to board a vessel called the White Swan , Svanvitr.
Steve, have a look at your sheet and find your best whale hunting spells. Hopefully you have several just like that.
I have a variety of them, actually. I have Summon Blubber, which is...I don't use it often, it's kind of an ish thing, but man, is it just the thing.
This is what we're gonna do. You're gonna jump aboard my mighty flagship, the Svanvitr, and we're gonna sail out to sea. My fellows here, they're gonna keep rifles trained on you so there's no funny business.
I don't expect you to get your hands dirty. Not you pretty types. We don't want to get blood under your fingernails, do we? Nah, you're gonna watch the ancient hunting tradition, the grindigap, or the grind.
And he goes on to describe this ancient tradition, and effectively what happens is his whalers will sail out, they will chase down a pod of whales, they'll maneuver their boats to drive the mammals to shallow water, and then the hunters with their huge knives will wade into the surf and kill them.
Oh shit! You are herded aboard a boat which sails out between the icy flows. The local stretch of water is called the Hellsand. It's the Hell Strait, it's full of ice flows as far as the horizon.
These huge slabs of frozen seawater that splinter and groan. It's quite a large boat. There are perhaps eight other yacht-nars sailors on board with you and with Daniel, who stands there with his polar bear pelt fluttering in the wind, his eyes gazing out to sea with a kind of pride.
You get a sense that he is really enjoying having people from out of town see just how skillful he is at hunting these whales.
Something that is going to come up is that after we've been in the boat for what, 40, 50 minutes or something like that, I'm just going to sit in the boat with everyone else, mind blowing business, not talk to anyone, but when the hour is up the disguise wears off and I look like myself again, and I will say nothing about it. See how long it takes for someone to notice.
You switch from being a human to a statue in a corner. It's almost as if you have turned to stone.
Yeah, man, I won't announce it or anything. I'll just, you know, continue to enjoy the amusing local custom.
Well, I presume then you are looking on the scene in aught of silence. Daniel's whalers heard a pot of whales to the shore and you can taste the iron in the air as they go about their brutal business of hulking the creatures to bloody death.
The sea turns red and pools of blood spread underneath the Svanvita and Daniel says, would you get a look at that? That's nature in all of its beauty. This is why they call it the gold of the seas.
Most impressive, you and me offers. Well done. Extremely, extremely bloody.
Quite the display.
It's interesting that given his diatribe, everyone's now been cowed into submission. You dare and say anything. Make for me, if you would, all of you, an awareness roll.
That's a D20.
Is D20 against your awareness?
I mean, my awareness is 19, I'm pretty sure.
Six.
I got a 10.
17 plus two.
Against a 12.
18.
CJ, I think you're the only one that doesn't notice. Would you care to describe what you're doing at this moment when something monstrous comes up on the starboard side?
Well, Grjothgart Gigi is actually quite curious about this whole process and speaking to our Jotun friends about the hunt and asking all manner of questions about how they do things. He's a student of life, essentially. So that's what he's doing.
He's actually asking Daniel about, oh yes, so the spears, the jaggedness, all the technical questions.
Whatever it is, is so all consuming that you do not notice rising up on the far side of the boat, a huge great sea serpent, a worm from Norse myth. It's more ringed with rows of sharp teeth. This beast is monstrous. It drips salt water onto the deck, but it does so almost silently.
It's like the three of you here, Ljomi and Erik, are the only three people to have seen this beast emerge.
Ljomi, it's that time again.
Yeah, I'm just making a note of yet another use.
I can say something. I immediately go down on my knees and clasp my hands together in prayer of this momentous occasion where, because of my religion, this is a sacred beast that has appeared.
You recognize it, Erik, as a stoorworm, a Storthegandar, a great sea serpent that's as wide as a tree trunk, horns on its head, and scales the glitter like the winter sun. Norse mythology speaks of these beasts as one of Loki's brood cast into the sea by Odin himself.
Yeah, like that.
I'm curious to see how this prayer goes. I have high hopes for Erik's success.
I'm preparing the secret path spell and looking back at the beach we left.
Is it the secret swim spell?
Sure.
Isn't it?
The stoorworm crawls up the side of the Svanvita, a slithering mass of these tiny eyes, these devilish horns, and its rows of knife-like teeth.
Mike, Erik was going to make a prayer to this beast. Would you like to utter it in them?
Please.
Yes.
In depths unknown, your shadow lies beneath the waves beneath the skies. With current strong and tempest wild, you guide the seas, both fierce and mild. Mighty serpent, rise and roam. In brine and salt, we find our home.
Bless us, Jormagandr, fierce and free, keeper of storms, lord of the sea.
Heartfelt and touching for a moment, the great storeworm just looks at you, pauses the kind of torrent of seawater pouring down off it before, in a lightning flash, it rips towards you. It's more already big enough to swallow the whole stern.
The beast grabs you in its mouth. That is a lot of sixes.
Oh no.
What falls to the deck is just gristle and bone. Most of you are swallowed instantly into the beast and gulped down.
I'm afraid, Mike, at that, we end your first session of roleplaying in the belly of the beast.
Nice death.
Well, more to the story, boys. Prayer does not help you.
Ljomi turns to Eir and says, it seems his prayers were answered.
Yes.
As were ours.
No, Eric did have a smell about him. I'm surprised he hasn't been vomited right back out.
At that moment, Gigi turns around, perhaps partly jealous at the rhythmic stylings of Eric, perhaps a little bit sad that his friend had been eaten.
But that's the first time that you notice the immense serpent that's looming above the boat.
And Daniel says, would you take a look at fucking that? I thought I'd fucking flushed it.
And then we will end the episode and pick up in due course next week to find out whether anyone else survives the onslaught of the stoorworm
I do want to note that I looked at my secret path spell a little more closely and it does specifically say land spirits reveal a path that leads you to that destination.
So no, not a swimming path.
As Daniel would say, yeah, fucking shit outta luck.
The Vikings and Valkyries podcast is hammered together by a dedicated team of scouts and Smiths.
Joining us this week was CJ Adrian, an award winning author of Viking historical fiction novels.
Find links to these works of myth and legend in the show notes.
In the meantime, please don't forget to like, share and sacrifice to the old gods.