Ulfr Torgeir
New
Roleplay posts: 3 
Registered: Oct 30, 2019 11:35:21 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfr Torgeir on Oct 30, 2019 14:35:11 GMT -8
Skaldholm Stormy winds and icy waters render the Northern Sea inaccessible to outlanders. This treacherous ocean belongs to the Varan, who can safely traverse the deeps with their longships. Skaldholm is an island-fortress located in the Northern Sea where nordic seafarers can seek respite and recruit hardy crews before disembarking on a journey worthy of a saga. A panoply of longships are moored in Skaldholm’s harbor. A central longhouse serves as a gathering hub, attracting warriors, shieldmaidens, druids, skalds, and more. One may seek respite in this mead hall or seek likeminded adventurers. Skaldholm is also home to a legendary runesmith, who can imbue weapons and armor with magic. |
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Ulfr Torgeir
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Registered: Oct 30, 2019 11:35:21 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfr Torgeir on Oct 30, 2019 15:05:54 GMT -8
"Oi! Oi, wake up!" Ulfr shook his brother, Ove, until the bear-of-a-man woke up. "We're to meet Snorri today, remember?"
The Torgeir brothers had amassed enough booty from previous excursions that they could now afford a longship from Skaldholm's shipbuilder: Snorri. As the vessel was being prepared Ulfr and Ove had caroused in the Sigurd Sigurdsson's mead hall, where they no doubt spent the remainder of their loot. Fortunately, with access to their own ship, they could now assemble their own crew and embark on adventures of their own accord, as opposed to taking orders from others.
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Post by Ove "Bjorn" Torgeir on Oct 31, 2019 3:58:53 GMT -8
‘I believe that bear was wearing a man’s clothes.’
This was the earliest recollection Ove had of someone referring to him by the nickname he’d lived with for decades now; ‘Bear’ - or ‘Bjorn’ in his native tongue. The comment had come from a half-drunk Varan when Ove and his brother Ulfr were young men, and the name stuck.
His nickname standing the test of time was remarkably unsurprising as Ulfr shook Ove awake. He was a large man, broad shouldered and immensely strong under his rotund and portly exterior. His snoring stopped, and the air stuck in his throat as he suddenly came into consciousness. Ove bolted upright, and began coughing. After a moment, he squinted at his brother. Ove could feel the pounding in his head right behind his eyes, keeping them only about half open. This was the price to be paid after a night of drinking and general carousing at the hall.
“Yea.” Ove said shortly. His brother would know his mood to be sour in the morning anyway, and the hangover would not improve his disposition. Not until he got something to eat anyway. Ove got to his feet, and reached for the fur that he commonly wore. He pulled the brown hide over his shoulders, and now even looked the part of his namesake.
“Let’s get something to eat first,” he said gruffly. “Snorri took his own sweet time. He can wait another hour.” Snorri was a fine ship builder, in fact one of the finest, and hadn’t actually taken an inordinate amount of time building the brothers’ ship – but Ove’s mood wouldn’t allow him to say so at the moment.
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Ulfr Torgeir
New
Roleplay posts: 3
Registered: Oct 30, 2019 11:35:21 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfr Torgeir on Nov 1, 2019 5:41:59 GMT -8
"Aye," Ulfr agreed as he threw his own cloak around his shoulders. The fur hide was stitched together with the pelts of wolves, giving the younger brother a wolfish appearance. And so it was, the Bear and the Wolf, the Brothers Togeir.
Ulfr carried with him a bow and drawstring, as well as a quiver of arrows, which he used for both hunting and fighting. He relied on his cunning and marksmanship to deal with his opponents. Nevertheless, he still carried a light targe, usually swing around on his back, and a one-handed sword to couple with it.
The duo descended the creaky wooden stairs back to the bottom floor. There was evidence of their carousing all around, including more than a few of their local friends who were too drunk to make it to a room. Sigurd was re-aligning the chairs and tables when he spied the two men.
"Ah, the prodigal sons return," he commented as he turned away from his work. Sigurd Sigurdsson was the son of Sigurd Sigurdsson, who was also the son of a Sigurd Sigurdsson. In fact, for as long as anyone could remember, the mead hall had always been championed by Clan Sigurdsson; there was an equal amount of pride and laziness in the family's naming convention.
Sigurd's age had sapped his strength, but in his youth he was one of the most infamous pirates in the Northern Seas. He had long brown hair with streaks of grey often pulled back into a ponytail. He had lost his left eye in battle years ago and, much to the dismay of onlookers, refused to wear an eye-patch because 'it got in his way'. His father had operated the mead hall previously, and upon his death Sigurd took up the mantle.
"I'd be more angry at you," he joked, "but of all the fools here you're the only ones who could make it to your room." He shrugged, "you can handle your drink; I respect that. Now... you off to see Snorri?"
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