Wulfenheim Hall

(Royal Fletcher Vera of the Celadine Grandma )

One of the two large doors at the entrance of the hall swings ajar. Roy would be able to see a large man within, armored and equipped with an assortment of swords and daggers, as well as a bow. He didn't look like a guard, he looked more like a rough mercenary. Then again, Roy wasn't exactly in a civilized place like Gauldin or Isra.

"Take it to the jarlessa," the brute growled at the group. He would watch them curiously as they came inside, looking at Roy's parasol with some profound interest.

The hall was quite open, like a longhall, only a little more elaborate (by Varan standards, anyway). A great large rug was sprawled across the middle of the room on the wooden floor. On top of it there sat a heavy wooden table, with wooden chairs, each one fit for a king or queen. On either side of the room, keeping it warm, were large fire pits running the length of the room; some of them had pigs roasting over the fire, and it gave the hall a warm, comfortable, hearty, and snuggly feeling.

At the very back of the hall a set of wooden stairs led up to a fur-covered throne. There were many great warriors and a few powerful sages all around a single woman: Lady Aesa Jojora, Jarl of Valland, and mother of Ralf Valgard.

"Good day," she called out from across the room, standing up to get a good view of her guests. "Did you bring something for me," she asked them, beckoning them to come closer. Her bright blue eyes and flowing blonde hair was evident even from a distance. Her left arm was missing its hand, and remained uncovered; a deformed nub was in its place.

(Royal Fletcher Vera of the Celadine Grandma)

Aesa laughs when Roy sheepishly brings her the finger. She likes the young lad, admiring his youthful adventurism. "If you truly slayed a jotun... then congratulations." Aesa said. "Ubba," she hollered over to an older man, "get this boy and his comrades some silver. And bring the scales!" Ubba motioned for some strongmen to come with him through a nearby doorway.

Aesa looked at Roy curiously. "My son, Ralf, speaks of Men of the White-Haired Clan, and Lovers of Candy. Those called the Fletchers." Aesa, standing, leaned in close to Roy and looked him in the eyes. "Are you a Fletcher, boy?"

At that time, however, Ubba and his men reappeared. They had a scale and a large chest. Upon opening the chest, some silver coins of varying sizes could be seen nearly spilling out, glimmering the light of the fires. They put the finger on one scale, and as expected it titled in its direction. They then began putting silver coins on the other side.

"So tell me, boy, about your kin, and your clan." While Aesa's men were getting Roy's payment ready, some of the woman fixed Roy some mead and food, gesturing for him to sit at the table.

Vera had stayed beside Roy during the exchange. Happy enough to let him do the talking. After all, she still wasn't entirely clear on what was going on. When the mention of drinks comes up though she smiles. Sliding into the seat next to Roy, she take a mug of mead. She proceeds to drain it in a single long pull. She let's out an appreciative burp, and raises her mug waving it.

"I'll take another!"

"Oof..."

Roy hefts the bag of silver, giving it a little shake to hear the coins jingle inside. He looks up at Aesa, smiling brightly (and pointily).

"Thanks! Thank you so much! I'd love to stay, but Vera and I really should head back. We have to get back to school before the break ends, after all."

He quickly rummages in the bag and gives Grandma an exact third of the reward.

"Thanks for all the help, Grandma! We couldn't have done it without you!"

Passing a second half of the silver to Vera and keeping the rest to himself, he heads out towards the door.

"Bye! Thanks again, I'll be sure to visit again sometime! C'mon, Vera. We don't wanna be late."

(Vera Royal Fletcher)

"It is no problem," Aesa told the trio before they left, "you are welcome in Valland anytime."

The guards watched the outsiders leave, and each one held newfound respect for them; taking a jotun on was no easy task.

Ubba Ubbasson, the son of Ubba Ubbasson, entered the door of the great Wulfenheim Hall with Rose Merosiky and company in tow. The scouts had taken their horses back to the stables and merged into the commonfolk, re-assuming their day to day duties. The great hall was warm and cozy, with the smell of roasted meats cooking over the central fire. A number of veteran warriors sat at either of two long tables in the middle of the hall, talking, eating, drinking, and boasting of past deeds. At the end of the hall, sitting on the throne, was Jarl Ralf Valgard of Valland, former adventurer, who had now taken his rightful place as Jarl of Valland. His mother, Aesa Jojora, had assumed the role for quite some time, until Ralf was ready to take the mantle.

"Ubba, you have guests, please come closer," Ralf hollered from across the great hall.

Ubba lead Merosiky and those who followed him towards the throne that Ralf sat upon. Four thanes, encased in thick steel plate armor, stood behind the chair. Ralf looked a bit uncomfortable in his chair. "Aye, my jarl," Ubba began to say, "these are the-"

"I know who they are," Ralf interrupted. "You're the Merosiky." Ralf squinted his eyes as he observed the entourage for a few moments. "You may go Ubba. Get some ale and fill your belly." Ubba nodded and lumbered off to one of the tables, where he was greeted with cheer.

Ralf exhaled as he leaned back in his chair. "It ain't for me," he said to Rose. "The throne, I mean. I'm not fit to be no jarl. Shouldda just keep wandering the world until I died. Never know how jarls and jarlessas throughout the other holds can stand to sit in these chairs all day. I need a good war or two."

A voice from across the room: "been to long since we had a good bandit raid."

Ralf laughed at the statement. "Enough of tired men," he said. "Come forth, Rose, take a seat if need be," some servants nearby moved some old wooden chairs nearby so Rose and his people could sit. "Probably wonderin' why I called you all the way up here. As jarl of Valland, I'm responsible for the security of my hold. When raiders came-a-knockin' on our doors, I'm the one who has to mount up and chase'em away. It's 'bout all the excitement I get 'round here."

Ralf adjusted himself in the throne. "But this time's different. Seems some brigands took up residence in an old fortress north of my hold. Don't know who they are, don't know their names, and I don't care to. I just want'em dead. Problem is, once we chase'em back north, they cross the straits and take up refuge at that old fortress of theirs. It's off the northern coasts of the mainland. We'd storm the castle..." Ralf smiled, "that'd be quite fun... but we can't. That island is full of mysteries... it's cursed. And I don't know if you ever met a Varan, Rose Merosiky, but we Varan... we don't do curses. We can't step foot on the island... they say it drains your life force, turns you undead... they say it corrupts the mind of mortals... there ain't no way my warriors can storm that island without help. That's why I called you here," he pointed at Rose. "I can help you fight whatever forces they have on the mainland, but once we get to the island, I can't go any further; it'll be up to you from there on out."

Ralf adjusted himself again. "Whaddaya say, Merosiky? You up for this? If you help me, I'll even give you the island, and whatever damn curses come with it. The resources, the artifacts... whatever is there will be yours. But I suppose I should tell you what your up against." Ralf leaned forward to peer at Rose. "Don't know what foul beasts run amok up there. Orcs, or ogres, or goblins, or... beast-folk we call'em. Abominations. They ain't natural, neither... they're dead. Or rather, they're undead. Perhaps their vampires?" Ralf scratched his beard, "don't know, don't care. I just want'em out. So... you up for it or not?"

Ralf's expression turned to one of grim curiosity. "Surely you jest, friend," he said to Rose. "Vampires are... abominations..."  The Jarl stood up from his wooden throne and walked over to a nearby weapons rack.  "Creatures of the night who prey on the living, sucking the blood from their innocent victims.  There's no place for such evil in Asgeir.  I am surprised to see... others, like yourself, claim to be 'good'.  But who am I to judge, eh?  I've had problems of my own in the past."  Ralf wondered if Rose was aware of his werewolf affliction.  When Ralf discovered that even he could be affected with 'curses' he developed a sort of compassionate side for 'other accursed beings'.

The Jarl of Valland was busy equipped himself with an intricate sword, the pommel of which was a white wolf; it was the family heirloom, passed down from one generation to the next.  He also equipped a waraxe, some daggers, and a round shield.  "We should head out as soon as possible, comrades.  My men have a forward base set up just south of the Carrion Coast.  We can meet them there and help push our enemies back to the jagged shores and back to the island from which they came."

Ralf would lead Rose and his companions outside the keep and allow them choose any of the royal horses at the stable.  "Not like the eastern breeds that the Jorian Riders have, but they're nevertheless reliable; they'll get us where we need them," the Jarl said as he mounted a midnight-black horse.  He lead Rose and the Covenant outside of the town and north, towards the Carrion Coast.