Server: NA-W
Kingdom: Blackheart
Duchy: The Duchy of Drakeolm
Size: 5 Counties
Settlements: 11
Seeking: Counts, Mayors, Guilds, Warriors, Crafters
Primary Focus: PvP and War production (Training and Crafting)
Secondary Focus: Exploration
Kingdom: Blackheart
Duchy: The Duchy of Drakeolm
Size: 5 Counties
Settlements: 11
Seeking: Counts, Mayors, Guilds, Warriors, Crafters
Primary Focus: PvP and War production (Training and Crafting)
Secondary Focus: Exploration
Lore
Stone, what do you make of it? The year is 672BTS. A cold wind whispers through the mountains. A Great Darkness has descended upon the people of North. As ice cracks so does the spirit of Menn in such times. Yet to the farthest reaches lay a small settlement, Hoskuldsloekr. Nestled deep within the Mountains, Hoskuldsloekr has always been an independent settlement, never one to rely on those that have never known its ways. A Village built by a few hardy Menn willing to survive these most inhospitable wastes has begun to prosper by this time. Shield-Maidens spar, Wives cook, Menn build, Children play, and the Demon hordes remain at bay. Unbeknownst to the independant people of Hoskuldsloekr, the Empire has fallen. A foul scourge has been brought from the depths of hell, far too long has Mann ruled these lands. The demons believe this land is theirs, and to reclaim it Azgrik the foul was formed in the pits of hell. He who is damned will lead these hordes amongst Menn, hunger insatiable, and soon all the land will be theirs.
Azgrik has lead his Horde across the North. Tribes fight valiantly, honor and courage is all North-Menn know. The skulls of the fallen North-Menn adorn Azgrik’s belt. As Azgrik burns to the ground that which is his Domain he feels it...laughter, love, company...he despises it, anguishes in it. So he pushed his demons on.. “My Horde! Burn these inferior creatures, desecrate their women, slaughter their children, bring me their hides. As long as they remain breathing they consecrate our land!” A resounding roar is echoed throughout the Valley, onwards the Horde runs without tiring, destroying all in their way..
A Seer collapses, calling the attention of Hoskuldsloekr, doom approaches. “We must flee, we must hide, Azgrik comes to take your hide!” the Seer cries. Though I ask you, young children...when have the people of our Clan fled? Yes children, that is correct...we who are in the face of total annihilation stood firm amongst our Demons. Night fell upon Hoskuldsloekr, there was no drink that night, there was only eagerness, anticipation. An odor stirred through the air, almost as if it was living..hunting, searching. It had tasted that of which it sought.
A guttural roar bellowed through the valley, at this time there was no place to run children, our ancestors must now fight or they shall die. Azgrik, brazen in his countless abomination descended upon the village of Hoskuldsloekr himself. He would squeeze the life from these petty mortals and drink from their corpses. The village was surely in peril, and yet, hope and courage comes when you would least expect it children.
As Azgrik lashed his whip, and spurned his horde onward, two champions arose amongst those Menn that would give their lives on that fateful night. Two Menn, as unique as you and I. They had no magic in their veins, no physical ability to resemble gods, they were but Menn. They knew if they were to die for something that it was better to die for their people, their loved-ones, their village, and their honor. Wielding only the weapons that had been passed down through their families for generations they confronted Azgrik. “Azgrik! You Bastard, what joy do you bring to my people this day!” echoed Odjin TurnBull, “You may take our lives this day, but our children shall take yours!” bellowed Tharnn Hammerstrike.
It is true children, in the face of such monstrosity what mortal could live to see another day, though in that moment Azgrik stood victorious over those brave Menn, he was maimed beyond recognition and so, Azgrik damning our people, took the bones of our warriors, the shields of our maidens, and the laughter of our children. His horde scattering into the darkness, our people battered but never broken would continue this fight. Six-hundred and seventy years we would fight Azgrik, he would come to know our ferocity as we hunted him across those damned wastes.
Two years ago children, I encountered Azgrik on his throne, an abomination, a creature that should have never been brought to our world. Weak, frail, with no Menn to quench his thirst, feasted upon what remained of his horde. Just enough to sustain himself.
He arose, “You come to me, you pathetic people dare stand in my halls! I will feast on you, and I will know once more the power that I sentenced your pitiful ancestors to damnation with!”. For 10 days we struck blows. My strength waned and as I lost hope I could hear a faint whisper in my ear. “We are with you, do not lose hope young one, fight on not for us but for your children, your people, fight on for your duty and your honor”. It was our ancestors, humble, and kind. Still looking after their children even in death. That is when I found myself, I knew what it was to be part of this Clan. What it meant to truly fight for my people, what I would be willing to sacrifice to protect them.
Underneath Azgrik’s throne lay something, glimmering, metal, a weapon perhaps? It called to me, and dodging Azgrik’s blows I made my way towards this weapon, as hot steel struck my feeble mortal body, I was so close, “Ancestors, I need you, god’s lend me your strength” I cried. As Azgrik grew closer, a hand reached out, then two, four, six, so many. What was this, as I looked up children, it was Odjin, Tharnn, our people. “We are with you” Odjin’s spirit whispered. I found myself holding my ancestral axe as Azgrik was bearing down on me. “Die and give me your gift you filthy animal!” Azgrik roared at me, as he reached back readying his whip, “Ahhh! For my Ancestors!” I roared, as blade met flesh, I had won the day. Azgrik would not be getting his gift today.
That was two years ago children, look how far we have come. Does the salt of the sea not refresh you, does the howling of the God’s wind not inspire you, look now children our Ancestors sail with us. Our seer’s speak of a Kingdom of Ash, a new home. We will have it, for our Ancestors, for you children, and your children. I, Grandson to Odjin TurnBull have united the many houses of Hoskuldsloekr, together we are the Clan. We are HammerBull.
As the Longships smash over the salted waves of the Great Northern Sea, the year is 1AGS, and a hearty laugh thunders throughout the lead ship...Stenhus awaits!
Azgrik has lead his Horde across the North. Tribes fight valiantly, honor and courage is all North-Menn know. The skulls of the fallen North-Menn adorn Azgrik’s belt. As Azgrik burns to the ground that which is his Domain he feels it...laughter, love, company...he despises it, anguishes in it. So he pushed his demons on.. “My Horde! Burn these inferior creatures, desecrate their women, slaughter their children, bring me their hides. As long as they remain breathing they consecrate our land!” A resounding roar is echoed throughout the Valley, onwards the Horde runs without tiring, destroying all in their way..
A Seer collapses, calling the attention of Hoskuldsloekr, doom approaches. “We must flee, we must hide, Azgrik comes to take your hide!” the Seer cries. Though I ask you, young children...when have the people of our Clan fled? Yes children, that is correct...we who are in the face of total annihilation stood firm amongst our Demons. Night fell upon Hoskuldsloekr, there was no drink that night, there was only eagerness, anticipation. An odor stirred through the air, almost as if it was living..hunting, searching. It had tasted that of which it sought.
A guttural roar bellowed through the valley, at this time there was no place to run children, our ancestors must now fight or they shall die. Azgrik, brazen in his countless abomination descended upon the village of Hoskuldsloekr himself. He would squeeze the life from these petty mortals and drink from their corpses. The village was surely in peril, and yet, hope and courage comes when you would least expect it children.
As Azgrik lashed his whip, and spurned his horde onward, two champions arose amongst those Menn that would give their lives on that fateful night. Two Menn, as unique as you and I. They had no magic in their veins, no physical ability to resemble gods, they were but Menn. They knew if they were to die for something that it was better to die for their people, their loved-ones, their village, and their honor. Wielding only the weapons that had been passed down through their families for generations they confronted Azgrik. “Azgrik! You Bastard, what joy do you bring to my people this day!” echoed Odjin TurnBull, “You may take our lives this day, but our children shall take yours!” bellowed Tharnn Hammerstrike.
It is true children, in the face of such monstrosity what mortal could live to see another day, though in that moment Azgrik stood victorious over those brave Menn, he was maimed beyond recognition and so, Azgrik damning our people, took the bones of our warriors, the shields of our maidens, and the laughter of our children. His horde scattering into the darkness, our people battered but never broken would continue this fight. Six-hundred and seventy years we would fight Azgrik, he would come to know our ferocity as we hunted him across those damned wastes.
Two years ago children, I encountered Azgrik on his throne, an abomination, a creature that should have never been brought to our world. Weak, frail, with no Menn to quench his thirst, feasted upon what remained of his horde. Just enough to sustain himself.
He arose, “You come to me, you pathetic people dare stand in my halls! I will feast on you, and I will know once more the power that I sentenced your pitiful ancestors to damnation with!”. For 10 days we struck blows. My strength waned and as I lost hope I could hear a faint whisper in my ear. “We are with you, do not lose hope young one, fight on not for us but for your children, your people, fight on for your duty and your honor”. It was our ancestors, humble, and kind. Still looking after their children even in death. That is when I found myself, I knew what it was to be part of this Clan. What it meant to truly fight for my people, what I would be willing to sacrifice to protect them.
Underneath Azgrik’s throne lay something, glimmering, metal, a weapon perhaps? It called to me, and dodging Azgrik’s blows I made my way towards this weapon, as hot steel struck my feeble mortal body, I was so close, “Ancestors, I need you, god’s lend me your strength” I cried. As Azgrik grew closer, a hand reached out, then two, four, six, so many. What was this, as I looked up children, it was Odjin, Tharnn, our people. “We are with you” Odjin’s spirit whispered. I found myself holding my ancestral axe as Azgrik was bearing down on me. “Die and give me your gift you filthy animal!” Azgrik roared at me, as he reached back readying his whip, “Ahhh! For my Ancestors!” I roared, as blade met flesh, I had won the day. Azgrik would not be getting his gift today.
That was two years ago children, look how far we have come. Does the salt of the sea not refresh you, does the howling of the God’s wind not inspire you, look now children our Ancestors sail with us. Our seer’s speak of a Kingdom of Ash, a new home. We will have it, for our Ancestors, for you children, and your children. I, Grandson to Odjin TurnBull have united the many houses of Hoskuldsloekr, together we are the Clan. We are HammerBull.
As the Longships smash over the salted waves of the Great Northern Sea, the year is 1AGS, and a hearty laugh thunders throughout the lead ship...Stenhus awaits!