Well, to be honest, it's an idea i had one night; i woke up randomly in the middle of the night and the first thing i thought was "dark age style campaign on an island". Bizarre, or a moment of inspiration? Who knows...
Anyway, i decided to draw something in my notebook and added towns and other names.At first i had the idea of doing a small channel island under attack from Viking raiders, but then i decided to do it in my Runissia setting. And so, i present you with the island of Drikilvarr!
Other than the fact that i like drawing maps, i plan to use this as the setting for a small story driven campaign over summer. Not sure how long i'll go, or even if i'll finish it, so we'll see how long i stay hooked!
The island, although situated near the Runissian mainland, is not ruled by the Runissian kings and instead life here goes on like it is a world of it's own (a bit like Iceland in a very loose way). There are 6 noble families on the island: Aeborths of Evensill, masters of the island, Hrodals of Dorval, Ulfarns of Wolf Cave, Night Swords of Valfar, Salt Bloods of Salt Bite and Elards of Sea Hall. More information in another post.
And so, i present you will a small prologue to the Saga of 6 Families...
Breeve on a rock by the cold river that gushed down towards Deep Fjord and the sea beyond, a handful of rune stones scattered before him. With milky eyes and a shaky hand he traced the star constellations made by the stones, finding the bow of Nia, goddess of the hunt and the flower, commonly associated with prosperity. At Nia’s arrow point three runes lay in a perfect line, the outer two facing inwards and the last hiding it’s face from view. Breeve sat back and pushed a wisp of snow-white hair from his eyes.
“Why can’t we see it?” A young had indicated towards the hidden rune.
“The gods do not mean us to see it.” Breeve replied slowly.
“We could turn it over.” When the youth made a move to flip over the stone Breeve shot out a hand, not touching the youth but startling him enough to make him stop.
“Never interfere with the works of the gods, Daras. They have their plans, we are not to meddle with them.”
“Never.” Daras sat back and watched Breeve as he sat and thought. “You are not at all wise, Daras Aeborth, for saying your father is master and warlord. Perhaps it is your wound that clouds your mind?”
“My wound effects my hand, not my mind.” Daras retorted.
“Pain affects all, and so does the knowledge that you will never use it again.”
“I will use it, it just needs to heal.”
“That’s not what the runes say.” Daras’ breathe shot from him and he gazed at the seer dumbly.
“The gods have decided.”
“That bastard Falfanar did, it has nothing to do with the gods.”
“You know what a bastard is?” Daras looked at him irritably. “Falfanar the Younger is legitimate, therefore no bastard.”
“It was an insult.”
“Well try and control yourself then. If the gods wanted you with a left hand they would have it healed, but since they have decided to leave it crippled it will stay that way.” Daras was red, blood flooding his cheeks, but he held himself in check.
“What else do they say?”
“There will be a hunt, in the northern forest.” He gestured to one of the two runes that lay on their side. “The rune of Stagaar, lord of beasts.” He moved his bony finger to the other. “The rune of power, Malaan’s arm.” He moved slowly to the hidden rune and Daras found himself holding his breath. “In the darkness, the gods turn away. There will be death and blood, and the gods will have no part in this hunt. We will be our own judges.”
Daras quickly analysed the signs; power, could that mean his father? And Stagaar is the master of nature, perhaps there is some beast in the forest. Or… his crippled hand twitched, a loose nerve making his palm itch terribly. The Ulfarns…