Player's Guide

Player’s Guide
Authors: Kenneth Spencer, John Bennett, Jeff Provine, Nathan Shank, Layout and Graphic Design: Charles A. Wright
Kevin Wright, and Greg A. Vaughan Front Cover Art: Artem Shukaev
Developer: Greg A. Vaughan Interior Art: Chris McFann, Terry Pavlet, Arten Shukaev
Producer: Bill Webb Cartography: Robert Altbauer
Editors: Matt Finch, Jeff Harkness, and Greg A. Vaughan
Swords & Wizardry Conversion: Matt Finch, Skeeter Green, Jeff Harkness

© 2016 Frog God Games, LLC all rights reserved.

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The Tales of the Lost Lands stories in Tales Pack 3 and Tales Pack 4, included in this book, are considered Product Identity
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Games
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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Table of Contents
Player Character Races.............................................................................................................. Pg. 4
Northlanders....................................................................................................................... Pg. 4
Nûk, Nûklanders................................................................................................................. Pg. 6
Seagestrelanders................................................................................................................. Pg. 6
Giant-Blooded.................................................................................................................... Pg. 7
Troll-Blooded..................................................................................................................... Pg. 8
Character Options...................................................................................................................... Pg. 9
Bearsarker (Barbarian Archetype)...................................................................................... Pg. 9
Ulfhander (Barbarian Archetype)....................................................................................... Pg. 9
Skald (Bard Archetype).................................................................................................... Pg. 10
Huscarl (Fighter Archetype)............................................................................................. Pg. 10
Spear Maiden (Paladin Archetype).................................................................................. Pg. 10
Cunning Woman (Sorcerer Bloodline)............................................................................. Pg. 11
New Character Traits........................................................................................................ Pg. 11
New Feats......................................................................................................................... Pg. 12
New Equipment................................................................................................................ Pg. 13
Death and Dying............................................................................................................... Pg. 14
Northlands Saga Pregenerated Characters............................................................................ Pg. 16
Tales of the Lost Lands: Tales Pack 3..................................................................................... Pg. 24
“Harsh Wyrds” by Jeff Provine........................................................................................ Pg. 25
“The Brothers of Jarl Skur Skulisdottir” by Kenneth Spencer......................................... Pg. 30
“Fadr” by Kevin Wright................................................................................................... Pg. 33
Tales of the Lost Lands: Tales Pack 4..................................................................................... Pg. 39
“Ten Cowards” by John Bennett...................................................................................... Pg. 40
“The Endless Ice” by Nathan Shank................................................................................ Pg. 46
“The Sword of Kings” by Kevin Wright.......................................................................... Pg. 50
Legal Appendix......................................................................................................................... Pg. 53

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 Player's Guide

The Northlands Saga

Complete Player’s Guide
The Northlands Saga isn’t just an epic and adventure path and cam- Included in The Northlands Saga Complete Player’s Guide are new
paign for a GM to throw viking-inspired monsters and challenges at his PC races, class options, and equipment (presented in Pathfinder Roleplay-
players, it’s full a campaign setting providing a homeland and base of ing Game rules with Swords & Wizardry Complete conversion commen-
operations from which players can launch the careers and life paths of tary where needed), optional rules for players on how to handle things
their characters. As such, there is valuable information in The Northlands like fate and death speeches, eight pre-generated characters making use
Saga Complete that is valuable to players and GMs alike, but not every of some of these new characters rules and options that players can use or
player needs to (or should) purchase the entire campaign guide, adventure simply look at as examples of Northlander character creation, and six new
path, and all that are contained with the massive tome. Instead we have Tales of the Lost Lands stories set in the Northlands that give examples of
provided a small, soft cover player’s guide to provide those details most the kinds of adventures and attitudes that the players are likely to find in
pertinent to a player who is creating his Northlands character, as well as, the Northlands Saga setting.
setting information that doesn’t reveal all the secrets of the setting but Wording found in braces {} indicates the use of Swords & Wizardry
does provide the players with an excellent feel for what the Northlands Complete terminology where it specifically differs from that the Pathfinder
is all about. Roleplaying Game.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Player Character Races

There is not as great a diversity of races and peoples in the Northlands Thing does not enforce the freeing of a thrall). Thralls may also bring
as one sees in the Southlands or especially the distant Caliphate. Only suit before a Thing, though they may not vote and have no right to speak
humans and elves have any large representation, but even this is overshad- unless so granted by the assembly. The child of a thrall is also a thrall, but
owed by the fact that the Northlands are nearly entirely dominated by the traditionally owners free their thralls upon death. A rare few thralls are
human Northlanders. Elves, of a sort that many Southlanders would find Northlanders who have been captured in a raid or who have fallen on hard
alien and foreign, are represented by the Nûklanders, but these reindeer times and have sold themselves into slavery to pay debts or simply to find
herders live to the north of the Northlands proper. There has been some food and shelter.
limited interbreeding between the Northlanders and Nûklanders, creating All other Northlanders are freemen, and by tradition considered equal in
a small number of half-elves. Most of these half-breeds can be found in rights and responsibilities. Freemen can own property, make oaths, and vote
the wilds of Estenfird where Northlander civilization abuts the southern or speak in the Thing. Most freemen are simple farmers, called bondi; even
range of the Nûklanders. Of dwarves, there are only the few enclaves in craftsmen usually pursue their professions as a side job when not farming.
Halfstead and Trotheim, plus the occasional dwarf who has found his way The common farmer barely makes enough to put something away for the
into the household of a jarl. Of halflings and gnomes, none are native to next year, and can arm himself only with a light wooden shield, a spear, a
the region, and it is rare that members of either of these races wander into long knife or axe, and maybe a chain shirt if he is lucky, but more often
the frozen and dangerous north. leather. Wealthier farmers are known as hirdmen and make up roughly a
Of the other common humanoid races found in other lands, these are third of Northlander society. A hirtdman has a large enough excess income
nearly or entirely absent in the Northlands. No orcs, goblins, bugbears, to afford to arm and armor himself at a higher level, namely with a suit
gnolls, or other of the “monstrous” humanoids are present, save for the of chainmail, a heavy wooden shield, several spears, an axe, a sword, and
rare individual who has made the journey north. Likewise, half-orcs are possibly a riding horse as well. These are not to be confused with hirthmenn
rare to the point of being nonexistent, and would be considered either who are the citizen militia of Northlands realms and were once principally
some form of troll-touched abomination or a bizarre specimen, depending comprised of hirdmen for which they were originally named.
on where one goes. First among equals, jarls have enough wealth to support themselves and
What one does find in the area of non-humans are giants, and lots of their families, but also a large household of specialist craftsmen, thralls,
them. Nearly every type of giant, and several varieties of troll and oth- and skilled warriors. The most valued members of a jarl’s household are
er giant-related species, can be found in the Northlands. These large and his huscarls — men and women sworn into his service whose support
dangerous creatures lurk on the edges of Northlands’ settlements and are is entirely dependant on the jarl. In effect, to be a jarl a person needs
a popular target for heroes and would-be heroes. Invariably, the giants of not just wealth, but the ability to convince others to pledge their lives in
the Northlands are evil {Chaotic}, even if their more southerly kin would your service and also be able to provide for their feeding, shelter, clothes,
be benign. The presence of these monsters has led to the birth of humans weapons, armor, and all other things they may need. A jarl rides to war
with giant or troll blood, unfortunates wanted by neither group and un- (though he fights on foot), and bears the best weapons and armor such as
welcome in all but the most tolerant of halls. Still, a few of these giant- or a heavy wooden shield, a sword or axe, and a suit of finely linked chain.
troll-blooded unfortunates have managed to keep their innate evil in check Many jarls also own a longship or two — sometimes more — and regular-
and rise from the humblest of beginnings to become heroic companions in ly outfit expeditions for trading or raiding.
another — more proper — hero’s saga.

Religion
Northlanders Much like the rest of their society, the Northlanders do not follow an
organized or hierarchical religion. They have their gods and heroes, and
The most populous cultural and racial group in the Northlands are, the worship of them is up to the individual. There are priests, but these are
unsurprisingly, the Northlanders themselves. Famed for their size, clean- part-time positions that do not produce wealth in any appreciable amount.
liness, independence, and ferocity, the Northlanders stand out among Instead, priests, called godi, are afforded a great deal of respect, but are
the smaller, darker people of the Southlands. Most Northlanders are of also expected to see to their own affairs as any other freeman. Because
above-average height and weight for a human, though they do not exceed of this, all godi have a regular occupation, often farmer, which provides
human norms for size. In skin, eye, and hair color they tend toward the a more profitable means of support. Also, godi tends to be an inherited
lighter shades, though dark brown hair and eyes, as well as black, are not position that passes from father to son or mother to daughter depending on
uncommon. Northlanders are also well known for being clean and for the family. Godi are required to maintain their temples, called godshous-
regularly bathing. These hardy folk see no problem with diving into a es, that are normally simple affairs of wood and thatch. Those that avail
winter-chilled stream, providing they can quickly exit and get back into themselves of a godi’s services are expected to gift the godi a reward of
the warmth of a hall. some sort. However, aside from funerals, births, and deaths, most people
Men and women wear their hair long and in braids, though women’s hair are content to worship in their own ways and in private, thus limiting the
tends to be longer. Men, and women engaged in more-active pursuits, wear need for the godi’s skills.
trousers, a long tunic, and shoes of wood or leather. Women’s clothing tends Godi do not dedicate themselves to one deity, except for a few rare
toward dresses, aprons, and smocks, and both genders wear several layers, individuals who have felt a specific calling. These specialized godi are
especially in winter, as well as cloaks and hats. Although women occasion- normally the only ones who gain access to spells; other godi may be of
ally wear men’s clothing, men rarely are seen in women’s clothing. the cleric or druid class, but would consider the granting of a spell from
The Northlanders have two social classes, thralls and freemen, though their deity to be a momentous event. Likewise, only those dedicated to
the latter has some gradations from simple freemen to the jarls. Thralls one deity ever gain supernatural powers from their god. More on religion
are in effect slaves and are owned property of a freeman. They are gen- of the Northlanders can be found below.
erally captives taken in raids of Seagestreland, the Southlands, or places
beyond, though they are occasionally purchased from Caliphate traders.
A thrall may own property and may purchase its freedom, or it may gain Northlander Characters
its freedom though heroic deeds, the decision of its owner, or rarely by By far, Northlander heroes are of the martial-oriented classes, and even
vote of a Thing (though like other decisions passed by these bodies, the then, fighters are the most numerous. After fighters, rangers are the most

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 Player's Guide

Giant-
Blooded
Nûklander
Seagestrelander Troll-
Northlander Blooded

popular, though these are usually of the non-magic-using archetypes. One

would think that their fame as savage warriors would mean a fair number
of barbarians would be found in the Northlands, but this is not the case.
Those capable of flying into a battle rage are often looked on with fear by
Banned Classes
their fellows, even if that person is part of the Bearsarker or Ulfhander You may notice that many classes are either unknown among
cults. Cavaliers are unheard of except among the Hrolf who have adopted the Northlanders or heavily persecuted when they appear. This
Southlander ways; the way of war for the Northlanders does not generally does not mean they are banned from your Northlands Saga cam-
include the horse. Firearms are entirely unknown in the Northlands, and paign. All this means is that the Northlanders themselves do not
thus the gunslinger class is not native and would be seen as a strange, normally produce gunslingers, alchemists, samurai, ninja, monks,
possibly magical, profession. Likewise, the amazing abilities of those inquisitors, and others. However, the PCs are heroes of an epic
Outlanders who have perfected their bodies and minds in such a manner saga, and they should be able to break the mold, if the player can
to become members of the monk class are seen as somehow supernatural, provide a suitable background. Another option, and perhaps a bet-
and possibly not to be trusted. ter one, is that someone really wanting to play a gunslinger, for
Rogues and their ilk are almost unheard of in the Northlands. Theft is a example, should play an Outlander, and thus open up an opportu-
major crime and often results in a person being declared an outlaw. Also, nity for excellent “fish out of water” stories that allow the GM and
locks and mechanical traps, aside from those traps used for hunting, are players to throw a mirror up to the Northlanders.
unheard of. True, some Andøvan ruins or tombs are locked and trapped,
but these are scattered widely across the land. No thieves’ guilds or other
organized crime syndicates are in the Northlands; the lack of authority evidence of witchcraft.} The magus class is also unknown and appears
and harshness of punishment, not to mention the tightknit nature of North- only among outlanders. Of all the arcane classes, the summoner is the
lander communities, makes these impossible. What rogues that can be most hated and feared, for members of this class can bring strange beasts
found are often combat or wilderness scout orientated, and not the more — most likely corrupted creatures of the Ginnungagap, demon-gods, or
traditional thief or thug of the Southlands. giants of the ancient world (at least in the eyes of the Northlanders) — into
Arcane spellcasters are extremely rare in the Northlands, to the point the Northlander’s reality. The only exceptions to this general distrust of
of being largely unheard of save in story and myth. Those who exhibit arcane spellcasters are the cunning woman lineages who are treated as
mastery of arcane magic are often shunned, if not brought to suit at a honored and valuable members of the community.
local Thing for being dangerous witches (no matter the actual class of Bards, called skalds in the Northlands, are a different matter. Bards
the character). Wizards are at times given some respect for the amount of are respected for their ability to inspire men in battle, as well as the skill
training required to gain their powers, but even then all consider it best to needed to learn the many tales and legends of the North. Although they
keep wizards far away from good, normal folk. Sorcerers and witches are can cast arcane spells, most Northlander bards have learned to mask this
greatly feared, and are often declared outlaws and hunted down. Alchemy, spellcasting by mixing it into their song, oratory, or through the use of folk
being a science of more civilized lands, is unheard of in the Northlands. cures and curses.
{The Northlanders would not ordinarily perceive the art of alchemy or its The divinely inspired classes are rare and poorly represented in the
products as magical, so potions and other such items are not considered Northlands. Few godi actually have any sort of spellcasting ability, and

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 The Northlands Saga Complete
those that do are clerics or druids who have dedicated themselves to a
specific deity instead of the Northlander pantheons as a whole. Paladins
are even rarer, as only one deity of the Northlanders has the requisite
temperament to attract and empower these paragons of virtue. Adding to
Nûklander Racial Traits
their troubles, paladins in the Northlands must constantly contend with
Nûklanders are in all senses elves as described in the Pathfinder
the scourge of slavery in the form of thralldom. Lacking a formal church
Roleplaying Game with the following changes:
structure, as well as the temperament, inquisitors are unknown among the
Nûklanders replace the Elven Magic racial trait with the Silent
Northlanders themselves. Oracles are well known, and many of those who
Hunter racial trait and the Elven Immunities racial trait with the
dedicate themselves to a single deity do so without the normal guidance
Elemental Resistance (cold) racial trait as described in the Path-
and training afforded a member of one of the godi lineages.
finder Roleplaying Game: Advanced Race Guide.

Nûk, Nûklanders with these spirits in order to placate them or request their aid, though
every Nûklander knows some simple prayers (these are not spells, just
Beginning at Neiuburg in Estenfird and reaching north to the Endless
minor forms of worship).
Glacier that marks the edge of the world lays Nûkland, the land of the Nûk.
Invariably, the Northlanders know the Nûk as Nûklanders despite their
claims that this name is a mistranslation (a more correct translation would Nûklander Characters
be “People of the Reindeer”). The Nûklanders are a different race than the Nûklanders are rarely seen outside of Estenfird, and even then only
human Northlanders, a race that foreigners would describe as elven. The in the winter months as they feed their livestock along the Ice River. A
average Nûklander is short, slender of build, and dark of skin and hair. They handful has drifted south seeking adventure or just exploring the world
have long faces with small, broad noses, pointed ears, and eyes possessing around them, and these usually evoke a fair amount of surprise and ex-
slightly folded lids. Nûklanders have a second, inner eyelid that is trans- citement among the Northlanders. While they are obviously non-human,
parent and seems to serve to protect the eye from the sun and cold, but also enough contact occurs between the two peoples that tales and legends
gives them the look of perpetually staring (Nûklanders rarely blink). De- of the Nûklanders are generally positive. No Nûklander thralls exist in
spite their slight build, Nûklanders do not suffer from the great cold of their the Northlands, as they tend to perform poorly in this role, giving up the
icy homeland; indeed, they tend not to feel the cold at all due to their innate will to live when made captives, and they stop eating, slowly dying from
resistance derived from their inherently magical nature. hunger and thirst.
While the Northlanders consider the Nûklanders to be natives of the Nûklanders are most commonly rangers, druids, or oracles. They lack
area, they were in their present range when the first Northlanders wan- the organized religious views that encourage classes such as clerics, in-
dered beyond the Wyrm Fang Mountains; the Nûklanders are in fact rath- quisitors, and paladins. A rare few Nûklanders have devoted themselves
er recent settlers. Nearly three thousand years ago, a new god appeared solely to the combat arts, but these Nûklander fighters are renowned as
among the elven peoples of a distant land to the south. This god pro- deadly mounted combatants, riding their fearsome war reindeer into the
claimed he would lead his followers to a place of eternal sunshine, vast heart of battle. Rogues are as rare among the Nûklanders as they are
fields, and endless game. Many scoffed at this boast and called this new among the Northlanders, more so when one considers that the Nûklanders
deity a demon, devil, or scam. A few chose to pay homage to the new god, have little of value to steal. Of the arcane classes, these are almost entirely
and soon a cult formed around him. As the cult grew in power, it came into unheard of, save for the occasional sorcerer, and even then such a Nûk
conflict with the more established elven religions. In time, this conflict must keep his abilities secret lest the tribe banish or kill him.
transformed from simple arguments to repression of the new cult.
The Forgotten One, whose name the Nûklanders and other elves have
stricken from all record, encouraged his followers to strike out against
those who would oppress them, and the nation was rent in civil strife. The
Seagestrelanders
traditional elves won out, and the cult fled north, traveling thousands of
To the southwest of the Northlands proper lies the Seagestreland, a for-
miles and slowly working its way to the “promised land.” In the frozen
ested band that stretches between the shores of the North Sea and the vast
reaches of the North, they entered a land that has endless daylight for half
plains of the Sea of Grass. This forest, and the plains beyond, is home to
the year, but night for the other half. Vast fields of heather and flowers
hundreds of warring tribes known collectively as the Seagestrelanders.
filled the land, at least when it was not covered by fields of snow and ice.
These tribes are human, but of a different origin than the Northlanders,
Game was abundant, at least part of the year, but became scarce when the
speaking several different languages, and possessing a very different cul-
winter winds blew in. In their rage at this betrayal, the less-enthusiastic
ture (in fact, several different cultures). Despite the variations, the Seage-
members of the cult turned on their leaders and in a night of slaughter
strelanders are all one people to the Northlanders, just as the Southlanders
ended the worship of the Forgotten One.
are considered one nation despite the plethora of kingdoms that make up
Trapped in the frigid north and facing their death, the small group of
the Southlands.
former cultists found themselves cast out by the elven gods. Seeking some
It is difficult to describe the average Seagestrelander, as there is truly
aid in this new and barren land, they called out to the night. Not to be se-
no such thing. The vast majority are smaller in frame and stature than
duced by evil as they had before, the Nûklanders pleaded with those their
the towering Northlanders, tend toward equally pale complexions, but
people once worshipped, the spirits of the land, of the sky, of the water,
have darker hair and eyes. They are human, and number few mixed-races
and of the beasts that dwelled in that frozen waste. These spirits answered
among themselves, having no half-elves or half-orcs, and rarely produc-
their call. To this day, the Nûklanders have adhered strictly to the worship
ing a giant- or troll-blooded child.
of the spirits of nature, fearing any reference to a single god may again
In times past, the Seagestrelanders wandered north out of the south-
lead them into evil and corruption.
ern expanses of the Sea of Grass, likely pushed out by the then-expand-
ing horsemen of the Hundaei tribes. In their northward migration, some
Religion groups settled along the Dnipir River, while others took to life in the for-
It is to the spirits of the land that the Nûklanders turn for divine aid and ests and along the coast of the North Sea. Others stayed on the plains and
spiritual comfort. To a Nûk, the gods have turned their backs on them, but took to a mounted nomadic lifestyle similar to that of the Hundaei that
the simple spirits of the natural world will never forsake them. Animism drove them from their ancestral homes.
is very strong in this faith, and every type of animal or plant, as well With the coming of the Northlanders, the Seagestrelanders found any
as natural features and events, have their guardian spirits. These spirits further expansion north, east, or west blocked, and soon saw their coastal
generally keep to their own spheres; a wolf spirit is concerned with wolf villages raided and plundered. Yet other Northlanders came and offered
things, not bird things. The tribes’ shamans are tasked with interceding to trade for amber, gold, and slaves. It is this last trade commodity that
started the constant warring among the tribes, as neighbors raided each

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 Player's Guide
other in order to sell their prisoners to the Northlander traders and hope- a human male), and the result is the giant-blooded. Occasionally these
fully stave off raids against themselves by wild vikings. This did not help, abominations are born to two Northlanders, for it is said that the taint of
as the various groups of Northlanders had no central authority to stop the giant blood corrupts for a dozen generations. However the unfortunate
raiding. Thus, today the Seagestrelanders treat every approaching vessel thing is conceived, it is usually killed at birth, for most Northlanders will
with fear, for until they see if the dragonhead is set they do not know if this not accept the shame of such an abomination. Still, some are allowed to
will be a fight or an exchange of goods. live and find a place in Northlander society, though always at the fringes
The Seagestrelanders desperately need this exchange of goods, for their and never with full acceptance.
land is poor in mineral wealth and their metalworking skills are less than Physical Description: Giant-blooded are huge, often well over 8 feet
those of the Northlanders. Strange beasts and fell monsters abound in tall, hairy, brutish in body and mind, and prone to tempers and passions
Seagestreland and on the Sea of Grass beyond. Warfare is constant be- beyond that of other men. Their hair is coarse, as are their features, and
tween the tribes, and the advantage that well-forged weapons and armor birth defects such as cleft lips, missing or extra digits, enlarged foreheads,
gives can mean the life or death (or often enslavement) of a tribe — not and other unsightly things are common. They are also not terribly bright
to mention aiding in defense against vikings coming in from the sea. Fur- as the giant blood seems to dim the intelligence of the human, produc-
thermore, trade goods can be exchanged to Northlanders in return for aid ing individuals who have trouble with even the most mundane of tasks.
in some battle or conquest, a practice that has often led to Northlanders Furthermore, the giant-blooded are not patient, giving into impulses and
fighting each other on behalf of different Seagestrelander tribes. As the desires, often of a fell nature.
Northlanders have begun to move up the Dnipir River, this need for better Society: The giant-blooded do not form their own societies, instead
armament has become all the more important. living in either human or giant communities.
Relations: Despite all this, having a giant-blooded warrior in your house-
hold, although seen as shameful, can be a great boon. These warriors are
Religion inhumanly strong and hardy, capable of breaking a shieldwall on their own.
The gods of the Seagestrelanders live in each village inside a god-tree, Having someone about who can lift oxen is more than merely useful; it can
a single massive tree trunk carved or painted to represent the gods of that also serve to intimidate rivals. Some jarls keep giant-blooded in their house-
tribe and village, or with a hollow in the trunk in which the tribe’s tibaz hold as a sort of freak show, bringing them out in order to impress guests,
idols are placed. It is here that communal worship takes place, and the and allowing friends to insult or pester a caged or bound giant.
local priest usually lives adjacent to it. The dead are cremated, and their In more kind and merciful communities, great care is taken to integrate
ashes scattered on and about the god-tree. This empowers the area imme- the giant-blooded into society. This often takes the form of assigning a
diately around the tree with the souls of the people (when casting spells person, usually a close relative, to look after the giant-blooded and keep
within 30 feet of a god-tree, a Seagestrelander priest’s spells are subject to it out of trouble. Riding herd on a rage-prone, not-terribly-bright relative,
the Maximize Spell metamagic feat with no cost in increased spell slots or especially one who can break most men like dry wood, is a thankless job
requirements to prepare the spell ahead of time). {Having inherent mag- whose only real reward is helping another to simply live. In these situa-
ical power, the god-trees have variable areas within which their magical tions, it is not unusual for the giant-blooded and his uncorrupted relatives
influence reaches. Some have powers that reach no more than 30 or 40 to take to the whale road in search of adventure and the possibility to make
feet (often quite powerful in this limited area), and others may have an a name for themselves.
influence of a mile or more (but are able to exert only small influences and Alignment and Religion: The giant-blooded tend strongly toward cha-
cryptic guidance in this wider region).} os and evil, though like any creature with free will, they can be of any
alignment. Even those who have learned to live in Northlander society
Seagestrelander Characters are still wild and reckless, and thus chaotic in their nature. Few godi, save
for those dedicated to Loptr, will include a giant-blooded in their con-
Seagestrelander characters face an uphill battle in the Northlands, for gregation unless so ordered by their deity or jarl, or driven by feelings of
it is generally assumed that any Seagestrelander found outside his home kindness or pity.
region is a thrall. The other option is to play a thrall, though this would Adventurers: Giant-blooded adventurers do so for a variety of reasons.
be quite the role-playing challenge and should be attempted only by ex- It is in their nature to wander and seek conflict, and the life of an aspir-
perienced and mature players. Most Seagestrelanders should be warriors, ing hero permits just that. Those who have been mistreated often seek the
barbarians, fighters, or rangers. Clerics and adepts are not uncommon nor means to escape, and taking to a wandering life with a band of like-minded
are other spellcasters, though any such should be played as priests of the fellows provides just that. The tempers and poor judgment that marks gi-
Seagestrelander gods no matter what type of spellcaster they are. ant-blooded psychology often leads to accidents, something that forces even
the most open-minded communities to point to the road out of town. Finally,
the bigotry that all giant-blooded experience on a daily basis tends to keep
New Races them on the move, constantly in search of a place they truly belong.

The Northlands Saga introduces two new races and one racial vari- Giant-Blooded Racial Traits
ant. Nûklanders present an elven sub-race whose nature denies the arcane +4 Strength, +2 Constitution, –2 Dexterity, –2 Charisma: Gi-
magic of their southern relatives and relies more on adaptation to their ant-blooded are strong and hardy, but ugly and prone to violent mood
frigid arctic home. The giant- and troll-blooded are offered as playable swings.
PC races, though each has features that set them well above (at least the Giant Blood: Giant-blooded count as giants and humans for any effect
giant-blooded) those more commonly associated with PC races. Also, the related to race.
giant- and troll-blooded face a great deal of bigotry in the Northlands and Large: Giant-blooded are Large creatures and suffer a –1 size penalty
are assumed to be evil, malicious monsters by most Northlanders. {The to AC and attack rolls and a –4 size penalty to Stealth checks but gain a
Nûklanders represent a new variety of elves to go along with the new +1 size bonus to CMB and CMD. Large creatures occupy a 10-foot space
giant-bloods and troll-bloods races below. These three new races are not and have a 5-foot reach.
proposed for use as PCs, but if the Referee chooses to add house rules Long Legs: Due to the long strides giant-blooded can take, their base
adding these as possible races in character generation, feel free to do so.} speed is 40 feet.
Low-Light Vision: Giant-blooded can see twice as far as humans in

Giant-Blooded conditions of dim light.

Tough Skin: Giant-blooded have skin more akin to the hide of oxen,
granting them a +1 natural armor bonus.
The Northlanders hate giants, especially in regions plagued by hordes Long Arms: Giant-blooded have a disproportionate arm-to-body
of these monsters, such as Estenfird or Vastavikland. Yet sometimes a length, and it is not unusual for one to be able to touch its calves while
union between a giant and a Northlander occurs (usually a giantess and standing fully erect. Giant-blooded have a reach of 10 feet.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete
Languages: Giant-blooded speak Nørsk and Giant. Should a gi- thralls whose only use is to be thrown into battle and expended against
ant-blooded have an exceptional Intelligence score, it can choose any lan- one’s foes.
guage it wants (except secret languages, such as Druidic). Alignment and Religion: Most troll-blooded tend toward chaotic and
evil, though individuals may be of any alignment. Even those that are not
evil are rarely neutral, much less lawful in outlook. Troll-blooded heroes
Troll-Blooded in the legends of the Northlanders (and there are only two) were chaotic
good in alignment.
As rare as giant-blooded are, the troll-blooded are even more so. Few One of the greatest prejudices suffered by the troll-blooded is that
interactions between humans and trolls are of any nature other than killing no godi will willingly take one into his congregation. Occasionally a
and eating, and thus almost never produce troll-blooded offspring. Still, it troll-blooded who has proven himself might receive the blessings of the
does happen, and like giant-blooded, troll blood corrupts for generations, gods from a godi, but such a troll-blooded and such a godi are extremely
meaning that two humans can produce a troll-blooded child. The fruits of rare. Not even Loptr looks with favor on a troll-blooded, much less the
these unions are even more cursed than the giant-blooded, for if there is more popular gods such as Donar and Wotan.
anything the Northlanders hate more than giants, it’s trolls. Adventurers: Troll-blooded become adventurers largely in order to find
Through mercy or their own evil, some parents allow their troll-blood- an outlet for their drives to violence and eating. Heroes eat well, no matter
ed offspring to live, though it can be argued that the prejudice and hatred what race they are, and are afforded at least a modicum of respect (in the
troll-blooded endure in life makes death a greater mercy. Those allowed to case of troll-blooded that means they do not get attacked on sight). Some
survive must face the hatred of their neighbors and an all-consuming drive troll-blooded are taken into the halls of jarls to serve as disposable shield-
to eat. Troll-blooded are always hungry, and due to their nature and diges- wall breakers, and when they survive the fury of the spear din are elevated
tive systems, they need to consume far more meat than anything else. This to leaders of bands of desperate men sent against enemy shieldwalls, pali-
makes keeping a troll-blooded fed throughout the long winters a daunting sades, and ramparts. Often times, troll-blooded find themselves driven out
task, for he will eat something, and a troll-blooded driven into the depths of their homes by prejudice and take to the wilds, where they either live a
of hunger will be hard pressed to eat meat that is socially acceptable. True, lonely existence or fall in with other outcasts, outlaws, or wanderers.
they can consume carrion, but fresh meat is what a troll-blooded desires
the most. Settlements that host troll-blooded over the winter often find
that by spring they have a dearth of rats, cats, and dogs, assuming that the
Troll-Blooded Racial Traits
livestock hasn’t already been pillaged. +2 Strength, +4 Constitution, –4 Charisma: Troll-blooded are strong
Physical Description: Troll-blooded are feral, savage, creatures, at and amazingly hardy, but their origin and their tendency to eat nearly any-
least in appearance if not in behavior. They are tall, but not much tall- thing makes them unwelcome company (especially at dinner).
er than most men, and have a hunched posture. Their skin is greasy and Medium: Troll-blooded are Medium creatures and have no bonuses or
tends toward a greenish tint, their hair is straight and black, and their eyes penalties due to their size.
range from red to blue. Like their troll relatives, the troll-blooded have Darkvision: Troll-blooded can see in the dark up to 60 feet.
long limbs and short torsos; in fact, their hands easily reach to their knees Ferocity: When a troll-blooded’s hit points fall below 0 and it is not
when standing. These hands grow long talon-like nails that can rend steel. yet dead, it can continue to fight. If it does, it is staggered and loses 1 hit
It is the face that is the most troll-like, having a long, narrow nose, high point per round until it is dead (troll-blooded still die when their negative
cheekbones, and a mouth filled with sharp teeth. Despite these inhuman hit points equal their Constitution score).
features, most troll-blooded retain some signs of their human heritage, Claws: Troll-blooded have sharp claws on their hands that allow a nat-
usually in their facial expressions or as a glint of intelligence in their eyes. ural attack inflicting 1d4 points of damage.
Society: Troll-blooded are so rare that they do not form their own societies. Eat Anything: Troll-blooded can consume any organic substance and
Relations: Everyone hates the troll-blooded: Northlanders, Nûklanders, are immune to ingested organic poisons.
Seagestrelanders, everyone. Even the giant-blooded do not feel a kinship Fire Sensitivity: Troll-blooded, like their troll relatives, avoid fire.
for these abominations. If not killed at birth, a troll-blooded is often hid- Troll-blooded take an extra point of damage per die of fire damage they suffer.
den away in order to keep it safe and to keep a family’s shame a secret. Languages: Troll-blooded begin play speaking Nørsk and Giant.
When they are discovered and make their way into the larger world, they Troll-blooded with exceptional Intelligence may learn any language (ex-
are often the targets of would-be heroes, local hirths, or a jarl’s huscarls. cept those that are secret, such as Druidic).
Those kept by a jarl in his household are often enslaved and treated as

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 Player's Guide

Character Options
Below are some options for characters native to the Northlands or ad- and whose Wisdom modifier is used to determine the save DC. This abil-
venturing there. It is up to the GM’s discretion if any of these are eligible ity replaces uncanny dodge.
for use in her campaign. However, these character options, especially the Naked Fury (Ex): At 3rd level a Bearsarker who is not wearing armor and
class archetypes and character traits, are tightly tied to the Northlands is lightly encumbered gains a +2 dodge bonus to AC. This bonus increases by
Saga setting and go a long way toward emulating the feel of the real-world +2 every three barbarian levels thereafter. This replaces trap sense.
sagas it is based on. Unarmed Fury (Su): At 5th level, a Bearsarker’s hands actually trans-
form into bear claws while in a fury. The Bearsarker cannot wield any
weapons but gains 2 claw attacks that deal 1d6 points of damage + both
Bearsarker (Barbarian Archetype) the Bearsarker’s Strength and Wisdom modifiers. The Bearsarker can sup-
press this transformation if he chooses to do so, but each round he does so
While the gods do not normally interfere in the lives of mortals, save reduces the number of rounds he can use his fury of the gods that day by
for the most heroic, there are those who have been touched by the gods 1 round. This replaces improved uncanny dodge.
and granted power through them. Most commonly, these are the godi, Fanged Fury (Su): At 7th level, whenever a Bearsarker uses his un-
represented in the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game by the cleric, druid, and armed fury ability, he gains the benefits of a greater magic fang spell (can-
oracle classes. However, some are not merely granted powers, but are not be dispelled) granting him a +1 enhancement bonus to his claw attacks
transformed by the contact with the gods. Some of these mortals so altered and any other natural attacks he may have (through the animal fury rage
are the Bearsarkers, a cult dedicated to the worship of Wotan and the glory power, for example). This bonus increases by +1 every three barbarian
of the spear-din. levels thereafter. This replaces damage reduction.
The Bearsarker Cult is a sacred order of men and women who have Rage Powers: The following rage powers complement the Bearsarker
dedicated their lives to Wotan. There are many reasons they choose to do archetype: come and get me*, flesh wound*, good for what ails you*,
so, but the most common is that they feel an intense desire to enter a sav- inspire ferocity*, knockback, liquid courage*, roaring drunk*, smasher*,
age fury and commit rampant acts of slaughter. This urge to rage is even and terrifying howl.
greater during battle, and so in order to control this drive and have a place *See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide
in society, the Bearsarker Cult of Wotan has formed.
Through esoteric arts, ritual drunkenness, and great personal sacrifice,
the Bearsarker not only tames his inner fire, but learns to become a whirling Ulfhander (Barbarian Archetype)
spirit of death and destruction, when the time for such action is called for.
Most do not live long, especially when one considers that their rituals are The feared Bearsarkers are not the only blood-mad battleragers in the
fairly violent and often result in severe injury and maiming. It is not unusual Northlands. Several smaller cults dedicated to Wotan seek to harness their
to find a Bearsarker who has plucked out one of his own eyes to gain wis- inner fires. Of these, the most well known are the Ulfhanders, those whom
dom, or who has spent time meditating while hung on a tree of woe. iron will not bite. Like their Bearsarker cousins, the Ulfhanders have ded-
Members of the cult undergo extensive training in order to learn to icated themselves to Wotan but not just as the leader of battles. Rather,
control their rage, as well as training in religion and the esoteric arts. Al- they have also embraced him as the master of beasts. In addition to their
though inwardly highly meditative and thoughtful people, the outward ap- amazing fighting prowess, the Ulfhanders also have the ability to phys-
pearance of the Bearsarkers gives others pause, considering the reputation ically transform into wolves in order to carry their battle madness into
of the cult for great savagery barely contained, as well as incredible feats enemy shieldwalls.
of stamina and strength. As per their religious dictates, Bearsarkers do not The key to the Ulfhanders power, other than their faith and worship
bathe except for rare ritual purification purposes, clad themselves only in of Wotan, is their divinely blessed cloaks. These cloaks, made from the
a loincloth and bear robe, and never cut their hair or beards. This shaggy, whole skins of wolves that a prospective Ulfhander has killed in unarmed
unkempt and wild appearance is the means by which the cult is known, combat, grant them their powers. With his cloak on, the Ulfhander can
and seeing a Bearsarker on the other side of a battlefield has been known ignore injury, fight with a ferocious rage, and even assume the form of
to turn the morale of even the most-hardy of warriors. Also despite, or a wolf. Without it, he is just a normal man, albeit one who has spent the
because of, their sacred status, Bearsarkers are afforded a great deal of better part of his life alternating between contemplation of the divine and
leeway in their actions and behavior. training for war.
Note: Bearsarkers must be good- or neutral-aligned, must maintain the Much like their Bearsarker cousins, the Ulfhanders practice esoteric
unkempt appearance of their faith, worship Wotan above all other gods, rituals and spend a great deal of time outside of combat in prayer and
remain honorable, forsake marriage, children and wealth, and live to serve mediation. Whereas the Bearsarkers tend toward mediation, scarification,
the Northlander people as a whole. Breaking any of these tenets results in and personal sacrifice as routes to the divine, the Ulfhanders are more
a loss of class abilities until the character can undergo purification through active in their approach and seek to understand the boundaries between
an atonement spell. Members of this archetype automatically suffer a –4 men and beasts and men and gods by regularly blurring those lines. Vision
penalty to their Charisma score. quests, time spent living as a wolf, and other odd behaviors are common.
Fury of the Gods (Ex): This works the same as a barbarian’s normal It is not unheard of for an Ulfhander to become entranced by the beauty
rage class feature; however, the number of rounds per day a Bearsarker of the All-Father’s creation and stand still, marveling at the mysteries in
can rage is equal to 4 + his Wisdom modifier rather than Constitution. He new-fallen snow, sunrises, or still ponds.
gains additional rounds at the normal rate. Also, Bearsarkers gain Knowl- Fury of the Gods (Ex): This works the same as a barbarian’s normal
edge (religion) as a class skill. This replaces rage. rage class feature; however, the number of rounds per day an Ulfhander
Berserk Fury (Ex): At 2nd level, a Bearsarker that enters his fury of can rage is equal to 4 + his Wisdom modifier rather than Constitution. He
the gods inspires fear in enemies who witness it. Any enemy who sees this gains additional rounds at the normal rate. Also, Bearsarkers gain Knowl-
display of savagery must make a Will save (DC 10 + 1/2 the Bearsark- edge (religion) as a class skill. This replaces rage.
er’s level + the Bearsarker’s Wisdom modifier) or become shaken for the Sacred Wolfskin (Su): Each Ulfhander obtains a sacred wolfskin at 1st
duration of the Bearsarker’s fury. Each additional Bearsarker in a fury at level that he has hunted barehanded. When worn, this wolfskin grants the
the same time adds +1 to the Will save DC to a maximum of +5, but one Ulfhander DR 1/—, which increases by +1 at 3rd level and every three
Bearsarker must be chosen who leads the fury to determine its duration levels after that (at 6th, 9th, 12th, 15th, and 18th). If the Ulfhander is not
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 The Northlands Saga Complete
wearing his sacred wolfskin, he does not have access to the fury of the allowed to leave his oath and is set up with some form of support for the
gods, brother of the wolf, skin of the wolf, or rage powers class features. remainder of his days. Even retired, there are many tales of aged huscarls
Ulfhanders are not proficient in any armor and may not wear armor and coming forth for one last fight, to stop some hidden plot, or simply to die
also wear their sacred wolfskin. This replaces the normal barbarian armor beside their jarl in glorious combat.
proficiencies as well as damage reduction. If the wolfskin is lost or de- Feats marked with an asterisk (*) are presented later in this chapter.
stroyed, the Ulfhander must spend 3 months in uninterrupted contempla- Center of the Wall (Ex): At 1st level, a huscarl may make full use
tion while hunting a new wolf to replace it. of the Shield Wall**, Shielded Caster**, Shieldwall Breaker*, Swine’s
Brother of the Wolf (Ex): At 4th level, the Ulfhander may form a bond Head*, and Swap Places** teamwork feats even if his ally does not have
with a wolf. This functions as a druid’s nature bond class feature, save that these feats. He gains one of those feats as a bonus feat provided he meets
the effective druid level of the character is his levels in Ulfhander arche- the prerequisites for it in addition to his regular fighter bonus feats.
type –3. At 8th level and every four levels after that (12th, 16th, and 20th), Loyal unto Death (Ex): At 3rd level, whenever a huscarl’s jarl, his
the Ulfhander may add an additional wolf companion to his pack, up to a jarl’s family, or other sworn companions are threatened, he gains the
maximum of his Charisma modifier. Bodyguard** and In Harm’s Way** feats, even if he does not meet the
Skin of the Wolf (Su): At 6th level, the Ulfhander may transform into prerequisites, for the duration of the combat.
a wolf as a druid’s wild shape class feature, but the Ulfhander becomes a Delayed Armor Training (Ex): A huscarl does not gain armor training
specific individual wolf. The effect lasts a number of hours equal to the at 3rd level. Instead, at 7th level you gain armor training 1. Every four
character’s levels in Ulfhander –3. The Ulfhander may use this ability levels thereafter (11th, and 15th), armor training increases by 1.
once per day at 6th level, and an additional number of times per day every Delayed Weapon Training (Ex): A huscarl does not gain weapon
two levels after to a maximum of eight times a day at 18th level. This re- training at 5th level. Instead, at 9th level you gain weapon training 1, and
places trap sense, uncanny dodge, and improved uncanny dodge. this increases every four levels thereafter (12th and 16th). You may only
Rage Powers: The following rage powers complement the Ulfhander: choose the following weapon groups for weapon training: axes, heavy
animal fury, beast totem*, greater beast totem*, lesser beast totem*, night blades, close, and spears.
vision, raging leaper, scent, and terrifying howl. **See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide
*See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide

Spear Maiden (Paladin Archetype)

Skald (Bard Archetype)
Warrior-women are not unknown in the Northlands, and certain regions
Skalds have a well-respected place in Northlander society, for they are such as Gatland, Estenfird, and Vastavikland produce a large number of
the lore keepers, the tellers of tales, and the men who inspire others to them. Most of these warrior-women spend only part of their youth as full-
great deeds through word and example. It is not enough to tell tales of time warriors, for it is greatly frowned upon for a woman to continue her
heroes both ancient and modern, to be respected amongst the huscarls and fighting and adventuring ways after she has wed and borne children. Still,
other professional fighting men; one must be able to stand with them in the skills picked up during their warrior days never leave them, and many
the shieldwall. The skald is more than capable of this, and often finds the an Outlander is surprised to find that Halla, mother of five, is a demon
living of the life of glory more fulfilling than the tales told later. with a sword.
Most Northlander bards take great pains to keep their arcane abilities Then there are the spear maidens, women who have given up any hope
secret, even going so far as to let this talent atrophy from disuse. Instead, of a normal life, of husband and family, and have instead dedicated them-
they focus on their role as warriors, singing their brethren into battle. Be- selves to the warrior’s life. Spear maidens have taken a sacred vow to
cause of this, skalds lack spellcasting ability, but are far more fearsome never wed, to never lie with a man, and to never surrender in battle. They
warriors than the dandified bards of other lands. are living weapons that spend their days and nights honing themselves for
Weapons and Armor Proficiencies: Skalds are proficient with all the battle, and woe be to any who face them across a shieldwall. To follow
simple weapons, the battleaxe, longsword, handaxe, and short sword. the road of a spear maiden is a hard choice to make, but once made, few
They are also proficient with light and medium armor, as well as shields. ever go back on their oaths. Those that do suffer great ridicule and loss of
Form the Line (Su): At 4th level, the skald may use his performance to honor, though many tales in the Northlands tell of a spear maiden who lost
grant all allies within 30 feet the use of the following feats: Shield Wall*, all she had gained in a tragic love.
Great Fortitude, and Swap Places*. This effect lasts as long as the skald While spear maiden is a paladin archetype, they are not traditional pal-
is performing plus his Charisma modifier in rounds. This replaces Inspire adins of the Southlands. A spear maiden must be devoted to Baldr, Donar,
Competence. or Wotan (most wear the hammer amulet of Donar) but is not seen as a
Man of War (Ex): At 1st, 4th, 7th, 10th, 13th, and 16th levels, the skald holy warrior of that deity so much as a sacred defender of her home and
gains a bonus combat feat. This replaces spells and cantrips. clan. Her supernatural abilities are seen as a mark of her wyrd blessing her
*See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide for the profession she has chosen.
Feats marked with an asterisk (*) are presented later in this chapter.
Master of the Spear 1 (Ex): At 1st level, the spear maiden gains the
Huscarl (Fighter Archetype) Weapon Focus (Spear) feat and treats a spear as a trip weapon.
Master of the Spear 2 (Ex): At 2nd level, a spear maiden gains a +1
Jarls keep many skilled men and women in their households, from the bonus to CMB to make trip attacks made with a spear, and a +1 to CMD
lowliest of stable boys to the elite warriors that are the huscarls. A huscarl to defend against attacks that would sunder, disarm, or otherwise target
has sworn to serve, to obey his jarl, and to protect his jarl with his life. her spear. Furthermore, this bonus applies to saving throws to resist spells
More than just bodyguards, huscarls are the most trusted men and women that target her spear. This bonus increases by +1 every four levels. Also, a
in a jarl’s household, the only ones that a jarl can turn to when in dire spear maiden may take the Weapon Specialization feat when she reaches
straits. Because of this, all huscarls must be honorable and just, as well as 4th level. This replaces heavy armor proficiency and lay on hands.
dutiful and obedient, and thus of lawful alignment. Battle Maiden (Ex): At 3rd level, and every three levels thereafter, the
The primary task of a huscarl is to protect his jarl. This is more than spear maiden gains a combat feat. This replaces mercy.
simply standing by during feasts or in battle; huscarls are expected to be Master of the Shieldwall (Ex): At 4th level, the spear maiden gains the
proactive in their defense of the jarl and his family. Because of this, hus- Shield Wall** feat whether or not she has the prerequisites for it. She can
carls are not permitted to marry, and one that brings a child into the world use it even if her ally does not have this feat. When she uses this feat, she
and acknowledges it loses much honor and often his position. In return for gains a +1 bonus to her attack and damage rolls. This bonus increases by
this sacrifice and service, huscarls are the first to receive rings from their +1 every 3 levels. This replaces spells.
jarl, are fed, armored, and armed at the jarl’s expense, and can expect to Head of the Swine (Ex): At 5th level, the spear maiden gains the
live a comfortable life. A huscarl who has grown too old to serve is often Swine’s Head* feat whether she has the prerequisites for it or not. She can

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 Player's Guide
use it even if her ally does not have this feat. Whenever she uses the feat wilds, either traveling to see patients or gathering herbs and other ingre-
in combat, she gains a +2 bonus to attack rolls in addition to any bonus dients for your cures. At 7th level, the wilds respond, gifting you with
from charging. Furthermore, the critical threat range of her melee weap- woodland stride and trackless step as the druid class features.
on is doubled. If she is wielding a spear, the threat range is increased to Blessed by Fate (Su): At 15th level, you may reroll one attack roll, abil-
18–20. If charging, she does not take the –2 penalty to AC. This replaces ity check, skill check, saving throw, or caster level check. You must do so
divine bond before the GM reveals the result of the roll, and must keep the second re-
**See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide sult, even if it is lower than the first. You may use this ability once per day.
Fey Rebirth (Su): Upon reaching 20th level, you no longer age, and
become immune to poisons and diseases. When you die, you are reincar-
Cunning Woman nated as a fey creature or a blood relative in your own family if one is due
to be born soon. This is not as the reincarnate spell, but a total rebirth from
(Sorcerer Bloodline) childhood on, though in this new life you do not have the cunning woman
sorcerer bloodline and are permitted to live a normal life as a just reward
Sorcerers are not well regarded in the Northlands, nor indeed are any for a lifetime of service to your community.
practitioners of arcane magic. Sorcerers get singled out for special per-
secution because their powers seem to erupt spontaneously and can ap-
pear in any person, anywhere. Furthermore, as there is not an established
means of training young sorcerers, they often cause havoc and death with New Character Traits
their newfound and barely controlled abilities.
One type of sorcerer common and popular among the Northlanders is
the cunning woman. This bloodline is strong, and families that have one Basic Traits
cunning woman in their midst often have several. Indeed, it is not unheard
of for every woman in a lineage to express sorcerous powers. What makes Hnefatafl Player: You have whiled away many long winters playing
cunning woman so well thought of is that their powers are generally not of hnefatafl board games. Furthermore, you have developed some skill with
the destructive kind, but instead provide a source of healing magic that is them. This earns you some respect among your peers, for the Northlanders
very rare in the Northlands. Young cunning woman receive training, and appreciate a quick mind and good game play. You gain a +1 trait bonus to
an honored and respected place in society, something that other sorcerers Initiative due to your experience outwitting opponents.
in the Northlands can only dream of. Horseman: You are one of the few who has bothered to learn to ride a
Cunning women — and they are always women — are skilled heal- horse and ride it well. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Ride and may take it as
ers with mundane and magical skills. They often live on the edge of a a class skill. Also, you may learn mounted combat feats.
settlement, not because they have been banished, but due to the fact that Merchant: While the screaming vikings are by far the most well-
their herbal remedies require extensive gardens and access to uncultivated known of the Northlanders who take to the sea, the vast majority of sea-
lands. Those in need of the services of a cunning woman are welcome as men are merchants. You have spent a part of your life plying the trade
long as they are polite, and payment is most often based on the means of lanes from port to port, perhaps even journeying as far as the Southlands
their patients as opposed to the cost of the medicine or spells. Being a in search of profit. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Knowledge (geography)
cunning woman has a marked downside, and it is that traditionally they and Linguistics, and one of these becomes a class skill.
do not marry. To perpetuate their bloodline, they still must build some Spearman: Warfare is not just a part of Northlands life, it is a central
form of sexual relationship with men, often in a long-term partnership that part of the culture and heritage. You were raised to fight in the shieldwall,
outwardly has all the hallmarks of marriage. This taboo is largely because leap off a longship into the fray, or defend your village against raiders.
folk wisdom says that cunning women are poison to their mates and cause You gain a +1 trait bonus to combat maneuvers made with a spear.
them to die early.

Magic Traits
Many godi have a somewhat adversarial relationship with the local cun-
ning woman. As most godi are only part-time priests, they do not always
receive spells from the gods, and thus may or may not be able to help
when called (assuming they aren’t busy doing something else as their full- Dwarf Blood: It is rare that the Dvergar have any relations outside
time job). This means that most people go to the cunning women for their their own kind, but one of your ancestors managed just that. As a result,
routine medical needs, and especially in emergencies, thus cutting out the you have unnatural blood in your veins, something that others would find
godi (who would otherwise expect some form of donation or offering for disturbing if they knew. You are shorter and uglier than average, and likely
their help). As a result, the godi have a financial incentive to not recognize have an unusual hair or eye color. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Craft, and
the services provided by cunning women. after reaching 5th level you may take the Craft Magic Arms and Armor
Class Skill: Heal feat, though if you are not a spellcaster you may only craft or repair weap-
Bonus Spells: cure light wounds (3rd), cure moderate wounds (5th), ons and armor that do not have special abilities.
remove disease (7th), neutralize poison (9th), breath of life (11th), heal Elf Blood: One of your ancestors is of the Alfar, a Nûklander or more
(13th), greater restoration (15th), mass cure serious wounds (17th), re- rarely a Southlander elf. It is even possible that your ancestor was stolen
generate (19th) as an infant and a fey changeling left in his place. Either way, you have
Bonus Feats: Animal Affinity, Brew Potion, Craft Wand, Magical Ap- non-human blood in your veins, something that taints you in the eyes of
titude, Reach Spell, Self-Sufficient, Shielded Caster, Skill Focus (Heal) other Northlanders. You are thinner and taller than average, and likely
Bloodline Arcana: Whenever you cast a cure spell, you may apply the have a strange look to your facial features, hair color, or eye color. As a
Maximize spell metamagic feat to it for free a number of times per day result, you gain a +1 trait bonus to Stealth and Perception, and one of these
equal to your sorcerer level +3. becomes a class skill.
Bloodline Powers: Focused Devotee: Although not a priest, you have dedicated a part of
Evil Eye (Sp): At 1st level, you can lock someone within 30 feet with a your life to the study of the gods. As a devotee of a single deity, you place
gaze that foretells their doom (ranged touch attack), causing 1d6 damage his or her worship above all others (while not ignoring the other gods lest
+1 per every two sorcerer levels you possess. You can use this a number you offend). Your alignment must be within one step of your favored de-
of times equal to your Charisma modifier +3. ity’s. Also, you must uphold that deity’s ambitions and virtues. You gain
Natural Healer (Ex): At 3rd level, you may take 10 on Heal checks a +1 trait bonus to Knowledge (religion) and it becomes a class skill for
without increasing the time taken to perform the skill. Also, as long as you you. Additionally, you gain a +1 trait bonus to damage rolls with that
are in a natural environment, you do not need to make use of a healer’s kit deity’s favored weapon.
to perform the Heal skill. Giant Blood: Somewhere in your family’s history, someone lay with a
Creature of the Woodlands (Ex): You spend a great deal of time in the giant. The taint of the evil, demonic Jötnar is in your blood, which poses

11
 The Northlands Saga Complete
several disadvantages. You are driven to commit crimes against the natu- other legal action, and may be rewarded for their actions. Due to the frag-
ral order of the Northlands. Those who know of your taint will likely shun mented political landscape of the Northlands, a sentence of outlawry may
you, and even the gods may turn their backs on you if you prove unwor- or may not apply if you flee to another jurisdiction. You gain a +1 trait
thy. As compensation, you are unusually tall and hardy, gaining a +1 trait bonus to Bluff and Disguise, and one becomes a class skill.
bonus on Fortitude saves. Due to your unnatural ancestry, you also gain a Thrall: You are a thrall, one of the few non-freeman in the Northlands.
+1 to either Knowledge (arcana) or Spellcraft. Note: This is not the same Your life is one of a slave, and you likely were not born into that condi-
as the giant-blooded race, which represents a heritage closer to half-giant. tion. You may not own property, and may only carry arms if your master
Rune Reader: You know how to read the runes and write them, includ- allows it. Most likely you are from another land, possibly the Southlands
ing carving them into stone. You thus gain the Runic language and a +1 or another even more distant place. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Craft
trait bonus to Craft (sculpture). (any) and Profession (servant) and choose one to become a class skill.
Tale Spinner: While you may not be a skald, you are skilled at telling
stories and have a broad repertoire to choose from. You are considered
an educated person in a society that places great stock in oral communi- Regional Traits
cation. Your skills at public speaking also gain you an advantage when
speaking before a Thing. You gain a +1 trait bonus to two of the following Estenfirder: A harsh life in the wilds of Estenfird has hardened you and
skills, and one becomes a class skill for you: Diplomacy, Perform (orato- taught you how to get by on your own. Choose either a +1 trait bonus to For-
ry), or Knowledge (history). titude saves or +1 trait bonus to Survival, and make that skill a class skill.
Troll Blood: Somewhere in your ancestry is a troll, likely a well-kept Gatlander: As the paragons of the viking ideal, the Gatlanders are
secret, though if open knowledge, good luck finding a family that will sailors without peer. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Profession (sailor) and
let you marry into it. You have one or more features of the Jötnar, such Swim, and choose one as a class skill.
as coarse hair or skin, reddish eyes at night, long ears or nose, or even a Halfsteader: Halfstead is the largest city in the Northlands, and acts
feral cast to your features that can be dismissed away but is also a telltale as a central point for the entire region. Peoples, goods, and ideas from
sign to those familiar with troll heritage. As a result of this taint in our throughout the North, as well as from farther abroad, flow through, gen-
bloodline, you may make a DC 15 Fortitude save to gain fast healing 1 for erating wealth. You gain a +1 bonus to Knowledge (geography) and Lin-
a number of rounds per day equal to your Constitution modifier. guistics, and choose one as a class skill.
Hordalander: Your kingdom is in turmoil, which means that you must
be well aware of which jarls are aligned with which factions. Being con-
Social Traits stantly on your toes has given you a +1 trait bonus to Sense Motive.
Hrolflander: The Hrolf in their ongoing bid to unify and dominate the
Bondi: You are a small landholder, entitled to vote in the local Thing Northlands have adopted new ideas from the Southlands. Among these
and bring cases before it. Although the vast majority of Northlanders are foreign ideas are the use of alien and bizarre weaponry such as crossbows.
freemen, you are in a class above the others. You have a small farm that You gain a bonus proficiency in one martial or exotic weapon not normal-
yields 40 gp a year in profit, though this assumes you or someone else ly found in the Northlands.
spends a great deal of time working on it. You have a +1 trait bonus on Storstrøm Valer: As the heart of Northlands culture, the old ways are the
Profession (farmer). most respected, and the minor jarldoms and small steadings of the Vale are
Child of Heroes: One or both of your parents are widely recognized as fiercely traditionalist as they are independent. You gain a +1 trait bonus to
heroes, paragons of the warrior virtues, maybe even figures who have ap- Knowledge (religion) and Knowledge (history) and choose one as a class skill.
peared in epic sagas themselves. Due to your heroic heritage, you gain Vastaviklander: Vastaviklanders have a reputation for being ferocious
one of the following: a +1 bonus to one ability score, +2 skill points per and easily angered. They also are known as some of the hardiest and best
level, or +1 hit point per level. You are expected to live up to your parent sailors in the Northlands. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Intimidate and gain
or parents’ reputation. it as a class skill. Also, you gain a +1 trait bonus to two of the following
Famous Family: You are from one of the famous families of the North- skills: Perception, Profession (sailor), or Survival.
lands, such as the Gats or Hrolfs. Your family connections can help you
get into higher circles of power, gives you a bonus of +3 votes when ap-
pearing before a Thing, and gives you an extra 100 gp to begin your ad-
venturing career. Unfortunately, you are expected to uphold your family’s New Feats
honor and ambitions and participate in its feuds. You gain a +1 trait bonus
to Knowledge (nobility) and it becomes a class skill for you.
Heir: You are the child of a jarl, and thus stand to inherit some degree of Axe Bouncer (Combat)
wealth. As a result you are expected to live up to the expectations of your
position, and have a bonus of +10 votes when appearing before a Thing. You are particularly skilled with the use of the throwing axe. You can
You begin your adventuring career with an extra 300 gp, a chain shirt, a throw an axe in such a manner that it bounces off the ground and up at
heavy wooden shield, a hand weapon, and clothing befitting your station. your target.
Hirdman: You are an independent landowner of some wealth and sta- Prerequisites: Base Attack Bonus +1, Weapon Focus (throwing axe)
tus, above the bondi yet below the Jarls. You possess a fair bit of land and Benefit: Make a ranged attack made with a –2 penalty, if successful ig-
have a bonus of +5 votes when speaking at the local Thing due to your po- nore the target’s shield bonus to AC, and ignore any bonus to AC received
sition. Your land yields enough to feed you and your family, plus produce from teamwork feats such as Shieldwall or Swine’s Head.
100 gp a year in profit, though this assumes you or someone else spends a

Northlander Spear Fighting

good deal of time at work planting, reaping, etc. Also, you begin play with
an extra 150 gp, a riding horse, a suit of light armor, heavy wooden shield,
and a simple or martial melee weapon.
Huscarl: You are a household warrior in service to a jarl or high- (Combat)
er-ranked personage. As such, you do not need to worry about your daily
needs and upkeep as long as you are in the service of your jarl and in his You have trained in the standard fighting style of the Northlanders, a
domain. You begin your adventuring career with a riding horse, a heavy heavy spear in one hand and a shield in the other. This allows you to use
wooden shield, a chain shirt, and a simple or martial weapon of your a spear in one hand.
choice. In return, you must perform services to your jarl as determined Prerequisites: Weapon Focus (spear)
by the GM. Benefit: You may use a longspear one-handed, provided you are also
Outlaw: A Thing has declared you an outlaw, and all hands may be wielding a shield in the other hand. When you do so, you gain a +1 bonus
turned against you. Any who slay you are not subject to wergild or any to your shield bonus to AC.

12
 Player's Guide

Shieldwall Breaker (Combat) New Equipment

You are skilled at breaking the shieldwall formations of others.
Prerequisites: Shield Wall*, Base Attack Bonus +5 There are several types of non-magical gear used in the Northlands that
Benefit: Make a bull rush or charge action against one member of a are largely unique to the region.
shieldwall. If you succeed in your attack, that person and the shieldwall
members to the immediate left and right of him lose any bonus from the
Shield Wall feat until the end of your next turn. However, if part of a shield- Greathammer (Exotic Two-handed
wall, you also lose your bonus from that feat until the end of the next turn.
Melee Weapon)
Skilled Kenninger A greathammer is a two-handed warhammer with a double head. It has an iron
haft or an extremely thick wooden one to support the extra weight of its head.
You are a master of the art of kenning, of subtly creating oral allusions
to common objects. Greathammer: Cost 24 gp; Damage 1d8 (S), 1d10 (M); Crit
Prerequisites: Perform (oratory) 2 ranks, bardic music class feature x3; Weight 20 lb.; Type bludgeoning.
Benefit: You may add half your ranks in Profession (oratory) to the DC

Sunstone
to resist your bardic music.

Swine’s Head (Teamwork, Combat) The current technology level of the Northlands does not allow for the
common availability of compasses such as those used by Southlander
You are skilled in the rare but deadly Swine’s Head formation, a flying ship’s masters. Likewise, though Northlander helmsmen often use sundi-
wedge of heavily armed Northlands warriors. als to chart their course against the path of the sun, in the northern climes
Prerequisites: Shield Wall*, Shieldwall Breaker days are frequently overcast or shrouded in fog, completely hiding the sun
Benefit: You may run or charge and still enjoy the benefits of the Shield and preventing the use of those instruments. Yet despite these limitations,
Wall feat. Northlanders remain some of the greatest seafarers in the world. This is
largely due to the use of sunstones, calcite crystals unique to the lands
bordering the North Sea that allow the user to pinpoint the direction of
Throwing Charge (Combat) the sun and chart his course accordingly even in the gloomiest of weather.

You are skilled at flinging a missile at your foes as you charge into SUNSTONE
melee combat. Price 20 gp; Weight —
Prerequisites: Base Attack Bonus +1, Combat Reflexes
A blocky, transparent crystal no bigger than the palm of
Benefit: As part of a charge action, you may make an attack with one
the hand, this lozenge-shaped stone cut from Northlands
thrown weapon at the target you are charging. This attack is at –4, and
spar has the unusual property of birefringence. Used
may take place from any point in your charge. primarily by Northlander sailors, even on a completely
overcast or fog-shrouded day, when held aloft and shifted
Whale Road Rider until the double shadows of refraction within its interior are
equal the sunstone pinpoints the direction of the sun. This
gives you a +2 circumstance bonus on Survival checks to
You are an experienced sailor, used to the rigors and joys of life on the sea. avoid becoming lost or Profession sailor checks to navigate
Prerequisites: Profession (sailor) 2 ranks a ship. It does not work at night.
Benefit: You may ignore up to your level from the armor penalty to Swim. Create Craft (jeweler) DC 15
*See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide

13
 The Northlands Saga Complete

Fort +7 (+11 vs. cold); Ref +6; Will +2

Trondheim Pony Defensive Abilities cold adaptation

Trondheim ponies are a special breed of horse that has been raised for Speed 40 ft.
generations in the Vale, particularly in and around the city of Trotheim. It Melee 2 hooves –1 (1d3+1)
is believed they are named for an earlier pronunciation of that city’s name
from the earliest days of Northlander settlement. Though not large enough Str 17, Dex 17, Con 18, Int 2, Wis 15, Cha 8
to serve as warhorses (the Northlands have little use for true cavalry) and Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 17 (21 vs. trip)
not the most aesthetically pleasing, Trondheim ponies are nevertheless a Feats Endurance, RunB
staple of the Northlands and perfectly suited to their environment. Skills Acrobatics +3 (+5 balancing and jumping), Climb
Trondheim ponies have short legs and long backs. They stand no more +3 (+5 rugged terrain), Perception +7; Racial Modifiers +2
than 13 hands high with a wide barrel, broad forehead, and thicker, shaggi- Acrobatics for balancing and jumping in rugged terrain, +2
er coat. They typically have a bay coloration, though some may be piebald Climb in rugged terrain
with white spots marking their darker coats. Mains and tails are univer- SQ greater carrying capacity, docile
sally black. Though they are Medium creatures, Trondheim ponies have
extremely hardy and stable leg musculature and have the carrying capac- Greater Carrying Capacity (Ex) A Trondheim pony is able
ity of a light horse. They are also able to carry Medium riders, though a to carry Medium riders. A light load for a Trondheim pony is
particularly long-legged rider may find his knees awkwardly bent to avoid up to 228 pounds, a medium load is 229–459 pounds, and a
having his feet drag too low to the ground, especially on a shorter pony. heavy load is 460–690 pounds. A Trondheim pony can drag
Trondheim ponies are favored by Northlanders not only because of 3,450 pounds.
their extreme ruggedness and strength but because they are also able to

Death and Dying

negotiate the perilous terrain of the North’s mountainous regions much
better than a typical horse. Trondheim ponies gain a +2 racial bonus to
Acrobatics and Climb checks that involve balancing, jumping, are other-
wise negotiating rugged terrain. In addition, Trondheim ponies with their
thick coats are especially adapted to the harsh Northlands winters. They With so many ways to die in the Northlands, it would seem that death
are treated as having cold weather gear for purposes of determining ex- would be simple and uncomplicated. But not so. In the Northlands, the
posure to cold dangers and gain a +4 racial bonus to any Fortitude saves only bad death is the unlauded death and, as such, death speeches and fate
necessary from exposure to the cold. Finally, Trondheim ponies require can play a huge part in a PC’s end-of-life decisions.
only three-quarters as much food as a typical pony and are able to sustain
themselves on the sparse grasses and lichens of the mountains for up to a
week before beginning to show the effects of starvation that other breeds Death Speech
of horses would experience.
Trondheim ponies are not well disposed towards combat, so riders nor- Heroes in the sagas do not merely die; they die with courage, gusto,
mally must dismount before entering battle. But Northlanders generally and eloquence. If a PC or important NPC dies, they may as a free action
consider them to be too valuable to risk in combat anyway. A Trondheim regain consciousness to do one of the following things: First, they may
pony can usually be purchased in Trotheim or Storstrøm Vale for 50 hs. take one standard or move action in order to complete a task interrupted
Elsewhere in the Northlands the going price is 100–150 hs. by their demise or make an attack, after which they slip the mortal coil
and go to meet their ultimate fate. Second, they may make a death speech,
TRONDHEIM PONY CR 1/2 a long and usually poetic summation of their lives. If the dead man is a
XP 200 PC, the GM should award a bonus to that player’s next character based
Advanced pony (Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Bestiary on the quality of the speech, usually an XP award or a story-appropriate
“Horse, Pony”) magic item. Alternately, instead of the death speech or final action, the
N Medium animal dying hero may choose one of the following: he may lay a curse upon his
Init +1; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +7 foes, as the spell bestow curse, {–1 to hit for 1d3 entire months or some
similar disadvantage} or lay a geas on a willing ally, as the spell lesser
AC 15, touch 13, flat-footed 12 (+3 Dex, +2 natural) geas at a caster level equal to the dying character’s level. {In both cases, a
hp 17 (2d8+8) saving throw applies, but at –2 to the roll. The curse of a death speech can

14
 Player's Guide

be negated by the spell remove curse. There is a huge downside to making a critical hit for purposes of determining stacking). However, the char-
a death speech, however. By doing so, the dying individual is choosing acter also suffers –10 penalty to AC, saving throws, and may not be the
to take a permanent place in the afterlife, and the character’s soul can no beneficiary of magical healing. When the battle is over, if the character
longer be “retrieved” by the use of a raise dead or resurrection spell.} still stands, he may utter one short sentence before dying. Nothing can
prevent the character from dying at this point; the Norns have measured
and cut his thread and his life is over at the fated time. Just to clarify, not
Fate even resurrection or the actions of the gods can save the PC, for even the
gods must obey fate.
To the Northlanders, fate (sometimes called wyrd) is an all-consuming The following player characters represent 1st-level heroes just begin-
force. The Norns measure and cut the thread of a man’s life, and destiny ning their careers as they set out on the road for adventure in the North-
often plays games with heroes. Once per campaign, the player may decide lands. They are designed specifically for use with The Northlands Saga
that his character has reached the point where he is fated to die. It is rec- Adventure Path, though you can use them for any other campaign or sim-
ommended that the player consult with the GM before proceeding, but if ply as sample Northlands NPCs. Each includes a relevant character back-
the GM agrees that this is a good time for a heroic end, the player declares ground that you can use or ignore as you see fit. These characters were
his character a victim of fate. created using a 15-point build to exemplify the low-fantasy style of play
First, the player must give a death speech in character (this does not to be found in a gritty Northlands setting where magic is relatively scarce
permit the laying of a curse, as in death speech above). After this, the and true danger abounds on all sides, though you can increase them to a
character gains a +20 fate bonus to attack rolls and skills used in the scene 20-point build to fit a more high-fantasy style of play.
and automatically inflicts double damage with every hit or spell (treat like

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Northlands Saga
Pre-Generated Player Characters
Balázs, Seagestrelander Thrall
Swords & Wizardry Complete Version
BALÁZS CR 1/2
XP 200 Balázs (Ftr1): HP 8; AC 7[12]; Atk two-handed sword
Male human (Seagestrelander) barbarian (Bearsarker) 1 (1d10) or javelin (1d6); Move 12; Save 14; S 15, D 12, C
(The Northlands Saga Campaign Guide, Chapter 4) 14, I 8, W 14, Ch 8; AL N; CL/XP 1/15; Special: +1 to hit
CG Medium humanoid (human) strength bonus.
Init +1; Perception +2 Equipment: leather armor, two-handed sword,
5 javelins, backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, 8
AC 14, touch 11, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +1 Dex) days trail rations, waterskin, sack, 5 torches, belt
hp 15 (1d12+2 plus 1) pouch, 15 hs, 6sp, 5cp.
Fort +4; Ref +1; Will +2

Speed 40 ft. thrall in Jarl Olaf’s household is easier than in that of many of the North-
Melee greatsword +4 (2d6+4/19–20) lander lords, and Balász was allowed to practice arms among the other
Ranged javelin +2 (1d6+3) children, though his frenzy for the spear-din was unmatched among the
Special Attacks fury of the gods 6 rounds/day others his age. Balász took Wotan as his god and exhibited a fierce loyalty
in his service to the All-Father until finally, over the winter, being allowed
Str 17, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 14, Cha 8 into the sacred Bearsarker Cult. An unusual honor for one of Outlander
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15 blood, Jarl Olaf has told Balász that it is unseemly to hold a Bearsarker as
Feats Combat ReflexesD, Throwing Charging* thrall and that if he proves his mind’s-worth in service to Wotan he will
Skills Craft (weapons) +7, Handle Animal +2, Profession free the youth from his obligation to the Jarl’s
(servant) +3, Survival +6 house.
Languages Nørsk, Seagestrelander
SQ fast movement, thrall*
Gear studded leather armor, greatsword, 5 javelins,
backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, 8 days trail rations,
waterskin, sack, 5 torches, peasant’s outfit, belt pouch with
15 hs, 6 sp, and 5 cp.
*See The Northlands Saga Campaign Guide, Chapter 4

Fury of the Gods (Ex) This works the same as a barbarian’s

normal rage class feature, however the number of rounds
per day a Bearsarker can rage is equal to 4 + his Wisdom
modifier rather than Constitution. He gains additional rounds
at the normal rate. Also, Bearsarkers gain Knowledge
(religion) as a class skill. This replaces rage.

A thrall raised in the house of Jarl Olaf, Balász was taken from his
homeland to the west at a very young age. The slave traders sold him in
Osløn, and he was purchased for the household of the Jarl of Halfstead.
Balász has only vague recollections of his years among the forests of
Seagestreland and feels little kinship for those distant peoples. Life as
a thrall in Jarl Olaf’s household is easier than in that of many of the
Northlander lords, and Balász was allowed to practice arms among the
other children, though his frenzy for the spear-din was unmatched among
the others his age. Balász took Wotan as his god and exhibited a fierce
loyalty in his service to the All-Father until finally, over the winter, being
allowed into the sacred Bearsarker Cult. An unusual honor for one of
Outlander blood, Jarl Olaf has told Balász that it is unseemly to hold a
Bearsarker as thrall and that if he proves his mind’s-worth in service to
Wotan he will free the youth from his obligation to the Jarl’s house.
A thrall raised in the house of Jarl Olaf, Balász was taken from his
homeland to the west at a very young age. The slave traders sold him
in Osløn, and he was purchased for the household of the Jarl of Half-
stead. Balász has only vague recollections of his years among the forests
of Seagestreland and feels little kinship for those distant peoples. Life as a

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 Player's Guide

Breaks-the-Sky, Nûk Wanderer Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

BREAKS-THE-SKY CR 1/2
XP 200 Breaks-the-Sky (Drd1): HP 6; AC 5[14]; Atk spear (1d6)
Male elf (Nûk) druid 1 or dagger (1d4) or sling (1d4); Move 12; Save 15; S 12,
N Medium humanoid (elf) D 12, C 10, I 10, W 16, Ch 10; AL N; CL/XP 1/15; Special:
Init +2; Senses low-light vision; Perception +11 +2 on saving throws against fire, spells (1).
Spells: 1st—faerie fire.
AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13 (+2 armor, +2 Dex, +1 shield) Equipment: leather armor, wooden shield, spear,
hp 8 (1d8) dagger, sling, 20 sling stones, backpack, bedroll,
Fort +2; Ref +2; Will +5 flint and steel, 8 days trail rations, waterskin, hide
Defensive Abilities elemental resistance*; Resist cold 5 outfit, belt pouch, 1hs, 9sp.

Speed 30 ft. Stáj, trained wolf: HD 2+2; HP 11; AC 7[12]; Atk bite
Melee shortspear +1 (1d6+1) or dagger +1 (1d4+1/19–20) (1d4+1); Move 18; Save 16; AL N; CL/XP 2/30.
Ranged shortbow +2 (1d6/x3) or shortspear +2 (1d6+1)
Spells Prepared (CL 1st):
1st—magic stone, speak with animals Init +2; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +5
0 (at will)—create water, flare (DC 13), know direction,
stabilize AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12 (+2 Dex, +2 natural)
hp 11 (2d8+2)
Str 12, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 10 Fort +5; Ref +5; Will +1
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 13
Feats Alertness Speed 50 ft.
Skills Handle Animal +4, Heal +7, Knowledge (nature) +6, Melee bite +2 (1d8+1 plus trip)
Perception +11, Sense Motive +5, Survival +9
Languages Druidic, Nørsk, Núklander Str 13, Dex 15, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6
SQ link to animal companion, nature bond (animal Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 14 (18 vs. trip)
companion), share spells with animal companion, silent Feats Improved Natural Attack (bite)
hunter*, wild empathy +1 Skills Perception +5, Stealth +6, Survival +1 (+5
Gear leather armor, light wooden shield, 4 shortspears, tracking by scent)
dagger, shortbow, 20 arrows, backpack, bedroll, flint and SQ link to master, share spells,
steel, 8 days trail rations, waterskin, hide outfit, belt pouch tricks (attack, come,
with 10 hs and 9 sp. down, heel, seek, stay, track)
*See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Race Guide

Elemental Resistance Cold resistance 5

(included in stat block).
Silent Hunter You reduce the penalty
for using Stealth while moving by
5 and can make Stealth checks
while running at a –20 penalty (this
includes the penalty reduction
from this racial trait).

The Nûklanders name is unpronounce-

able to the Northlanders of Jarl Olaf’s hold,
but he enjoys hearing the word-song of his
name said in their language as well and so
does not correct them. Breaks-the-Sky is
a member of the Nûk tribes of the frozen
tundra in far Nûkland. A rarity among the
Northlands, he made his way south across
the peaks of Vastavikland and the forests
of Seagestreland on a spirit journey before
finally arriving at the Jarl’s hall in the midst
of a blizzard. It has been a great honor for Jarl
Olaf to host the exotic Nûklander in his hall for the
winter, and Breaks-the-Sky has enjoyed the status
of a favored, if curious, guest. Now, however, since
Breaks-the-Sky has shared the Jarl’s hearth-meat he
owes service in return and seeks a way to repay the Jarl
as he continues his spirit journey.

STÁJ CR —
XP —
Male wolf animal companion (Pathfinder
Roleplaying Game Bestiary “Wolf”)
N Medium animal

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Jón the Tree Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

JÓN THE TREE CR 1/2
XP 200 Jón (Ftr1): HP 8; AC 5[14]; Atk battleaxe (1d8+2) or
Male giant-blooded fighter 1 (The Northlands Saga spear (1d6+2) or dagger (1d4+2); Move 12; Save 14; S
Campaign Guide, Chapter 1) 17, D 11, C 18, I 8, W 8, Ch 5; AL N; CL/XP 1/15; Special:
N Large humanoid (giant, human) +2 to hit and damage strength bonus.
Init +0; Senses low-light vision; Perception –1 Equipment: chainmail, battleaxe, 3 spears,
dagger, backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, 8
AC 15, touch 9, flat-footed 15 (+5 armor, +1 natural, –1 size) days trail rations, waterskin, peasant’s outfit, belt
hp 18 (1d10+4 plus 4) pouch, 6sp.
Fort +6; Ref +0; Will –1

Speed 40 ft.
Melee greataxe +5 (3d6+7/x3) or spear +5 (2d6+7/x3) or
dagger +5 (1d6+5/19–20)
Ranged spear +0 (2d6+5/x3)
Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft.

Str 20, Dex 11, Con 18, Int 8, Wis 8, Cha 5

Base Atk +1; CMB +7; CMD 17
Feats Power AttackB, Toughness
Skills Intimidate +1, Stealth –8
Languages Giant, Nørsk
Gear scale mail, greataxe, 3 spears, dagger,
backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, 8 days trail rations,
waterskin, peasant’s outfit, belt pouch with 6 sp.

Jón was found in a coastal giant village one spring when

Jarl Olaf was raiding into Vastavikland. With the rest of the
giants slaughtered by Olaf’s reavers, it was obvious that the
youngling eyeing the strangers suspiciously was not solely of
giant stock. Only a toddler, Jón already stood as tall as a
teenage Northlander and showed no fear at the carnage
around him. Though a renowned Viking, Olaf Henrikson
was also a man of compassion, and he took the foundling
aboard his ship and brought him into his household to
give him a chance at a life other than that of a ravening
giant. Jón grew up as a servant in Olaf’s hall but had
such a cheerful nature that he was all but adopted into
the family. Called “The Tree” as he gained his adult
height, Jón has vowed to become a warrior in the
Jarl’s service, and to that end Olaf has outfitted him in
large-sized arms to befit his stature. Now Jón seeks
to prove himself to his adopted people. He feels no
call of kinship to his giant blood and wishes only
to prove himself as a Northlander, granting him the
rare opportunity as a giant-blooded to be treated with a
measure of honor and respect among the humans around
him.

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 Player's Guide

Knörr Goatsblood, Dwarven Scout Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

KNÖRR GOATSBLOOD CR 1/2
XP 200 Knörr Goatsblood (Thf1): HP 4; AC 6[13]; Atk battleaxe
Male dwarf ranger 1 (1d8) or handaxe (1d6) or shortbow x2 (1d6); Move
CG Medium humanoid (dwarf) 12; Save 15; S 12, D 15, C 12, I 8, W 12, Ch 8; AL N;
Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +5 CL/XP 1/15; Special: +1 to hit with ranged weapons
dexterity bonus, –1[+1] AC bonus, +2 on saving throws
AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +3 Dex) vs. devices, +4 on saving throws vs. magic, backstab
hp 12 (1d10+2) (x2), darkvision 60ft, dwarf abilities, thieving skills.
Fort +4; Ref +5; Will +1; +2 vs. poison, spells, and spell-like Thieving Skills: Climb 85%, Tasks/Traps 25%, Hear
abilities 3 in 6, Hide 15%, Silent 25%, Locks 15%.
Defensive Abilities +4 dodge vs. giants Equipment: leather, battleaxe, handaxe,
shortbow, 20 arrows, backpack, bedroll, 4 days
Speed 20 ft. trail rations, waterskin, traveler’s outfit, belt
Melee dwarven waraxe +3 (1d10+2/x3) or handaxe +3 pouch, 9sp.
(1d6+2/x3)
Ranged shortbow +4 (1d6/x3)
Special Attacks +1 attacks vs. goblinoids and orcs, favored
enemy (humanoid [giant] +2)

Str 14, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 12,

Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 16 (20 vs.
bull or trip)
Feats Improved Initiative
Skills Appraise –1 (+1 precious
metals or gems), Climb +4, Heal
+5, Knowledge (geography) +3,
Perception +5 (+7 stonework), Stealth
+5, Survival +5 (+6 tracking)
Languages Dwarven, Nørsk
SQ track, wild empathy +0
Gear chain shirt, dwarven waraxe,
handaxe, shortbow, 20 arrows,
backpack, bedroll, 4 days trail rations,
waterskin, traveler’s outfit, belt pouch with
9 sp.

A scout for the dwarven clans of northern Hordaland, Knörr

was traveling through the area of Silvermeade when the first
winter snows came. Though dwarves are fairly common in
Hordaland compared to the rest of the Northlands, his arrival
was still a cause for much curiosity among the folk of the
hall, and Jarl Olaf graciously offered for him to winter at Sil-
vermeade. With no specific duties to his folk at the moment,
Knörr gladly accepted the offer and has spent the winter in the
warmth of the hall eating the Jarl’s meat (plentiful) and drink-
ing his ale (weak). However, he has enjoyed his time among
the tall folk, having never before had much of a chance for
more than cursory interactions with humans. As a result,
he has decided to take his time in getting back to his own
people in order to see what these short-lived, long-legged
enigmas do for fun in the warmer months.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Kolr Hákonson, Young Huscarl Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

KOLR HÁKONSON CR 1/2
XP 200 Kolr Hákonson (Ftr1): HP 8; AC 4[15]; Atk longsword
Male human fighter (huscarl) 1 (The Northlands Saga (1d8) or dagger (1d4) or shortbow x2 (1d6); Move 12;
Campaign Guide, Chapter 4) Save 14; S 15, D 12, C 15, I 10, W 8, Ch 13; AL N; CL/XP
LN Medium humanoid (human) 1/15; Special: +1 to hit strength bonus.
Init +1; Perception –1 Equipment: chainmail, wooden shield,
longsword, dagger, shortbow, 20 arrows,
AC 19, touch 11, flat-footed 18 (+6 armor, +1 Dex, +2 shield) backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, 8 days trail
hp 13 (1d10+2 plus 1 rations, waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt
Fort +4; Ref +1; Will –1 pouch, 9hs, 8sp.

Speed 20 ft.
Melee longsword +5 (1d8+3/19–20) or dagger +4 (1d4+3/19–20)
Ranged shortbow +2 (1d6/x3) or dagger +2 (1d4+3/19–20)

Str 16, Dex 12, Con 15, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 13
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15
Feats Shield WallB**, Skill Focus (Profession [sailor]) B, Step Up,
Weapon Focus (longsword) B
Skills Intimidate +5, Profession (sailor) +6, Survival +3
Languages Nørsk
SQ center of the wall
Gear chainmail, heavy wooden shield, longsword, dagger,
shortbow, 20 arrows, backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, 8
days trail rations, waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt pouch
with 9 hs and 8 sp.

Center of the Wall (Ex) At 1st level a huscarl may make

full use of the Shield Wall**, Shielded Caster**, Shieldwall
Breaker*, Swine’s Head*, and Swap Places** teamwork
feats even if his ally does not have these feats. He gains
one of those feats as a bonus feat provided he meets the
prerequisites for it in addition to his regular fighter bonus
feats.
*See The Northlands Saga Campaign Guide, Chapter 4
**See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s
Guide

Kolr (pronounced “Cole”) is a nephew of Jarl Olaf Henrik-

son. His father Hákon was Olaf’s youngest brother, though he
died 12 winters ago from the slow fever. Kolr’s three older
brothers and one older sister have all become members of
Olaf’s household guard, with the oldest being named a
huscarl. Kolr, only nineteen, is still too young for that
honor but seeks to advance his name and reputa-
tion since reaching the age of manhood. For the
last couple of years he has chafed at the
slow pace of life at Silvermeade, and
with the sudden death of the Køenig
last year, he thought sure the turmoil
to follow would bring excitement,
but Jarl Olaf kept a firm hand on his
household and prevented the hot-blood-
ed young man from traveling to Halfstead where he
might get into trouble. Now with spring finally come
and the Jarl set to give out favors among his house-
hold for the new year, Kolr is hoping to be given the
opportunity for glory and to begin his training as a
huscarl to the Jarl.

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 Player's Guide

Signy Stone-Eye, Witch-Woman Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

SIGNY STONE-EYE CR 1/2
XP 200 Signy Stone-Eye (MU1): HP 4; AC 9[10]; Atk dagger
Female human sorcerer 1 (1d4) or dart x3 (1d3); Move 12; Save 15; S 10, D 12, C
N Medium humanoid (human) 10, I 13, W 10, Ch 18; AL N; CL/XP 1/15; Special: +2 on
Init +1; Perception +0 saving throws against spells, spells (1).
Spells: 1st—charm person.
AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10 (+1 Dex) Equipment: dagger, 9 darts, potion of cure light
hp 6 (1d6) wounds, backpack, bedroll, 5 candles, 8 days
Fort +0; Ref +1; Will +4 trail rations, waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt
pouch, 2hs, 6sp, 5cp.
Speed 30 ft.
Melee sickle +0 (1d6) or dagger +0 (1d4/19–20)
Ranged sling +1 (1d4) or dagger +1 (1d4/19–20)
Bloodline Spell-like Abilities (CL 1st):
7/day—evil eye* (ranged touch +1, 1d6)
Spells Known (CL 1st):
1st (4/day)—icicle dagger***, mage armor
0 (at will)—acid splash (ranged touch +1), disrupt undead
(ranged touch +1), message, spark** (DC 14)
Bloodline cunning woman*

Str 10, Dex 12, Con 10, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 18
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 11
Feats Eschew MaterialsB, Iron WillB, Skill Focus (Heal)
Skills Bluff +7, Heal +7, Intimidate +8, Knowledge (arcana)
+5, Linguistics +2, Spellcraft +5
Languages Andøvan, Nørsk, Runic
SQ bloodline arcana (Maximize cure spells 4 times/day)
Combat Gear potion of cure light wounds; Other Gear sickle,
dagger, sling, 10 sling bullets, backpack, bedroll, 5 candles,
8 days trail rations, waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt
pouch with 2 hs, 6 sp, and 5 cp.
*See The Northlands Saga Campaign Guide, Chapter 4
**See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s
Guide
***See Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Ultimate Magic

With coal-black hair and gray eyes, Signy’s coloring is more that of
the ancient Andøvan that once inhabited the North rather than the current
Northlander peoples. She is a mystery to many of her own people — and
that is the way she prefers it to be. Signy remains separate from others as
much as possible, and her nickname is as much for the coldness of her
glare as the color of her eyes. As a cunning woman, she is one of the few
spellcasters at Jarl Olaf’s hall and one of the few that would be accepted
among Northlander society. She has been studying at the feet of the Jarl’s
personal cunning woman, a gray-haired old hag called Odi, but seems to
gain much of her skill through her own instincts rather than formal train-
ing. Signy seeks to become a feared and respected cunning woman in her
own right, one that can bend the ear of jarls and even a køenig. To that
end she keeps her own council and portrays an unnerving aura of mystery.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Skagi the Trader, Outlander Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

Peddler Skagi (Thf1): HP 4; AC 7[12]; Atk spear (1d6) or short
SKAGI THE TRADER CR 1/2 sword (1d6) or dagger (1d4); Move 12; Save 15; S 12,
XP 200 D 12, C 10, I 14, W 8, Ch 14; AL N; CL/XP 1/15; Special:
Male human rogue 1 +2 on saving throws vs. devices, backstab (x2),
N Medium humanoid (human) thieving skills.
Init +3; Perception +3 Thieving Skills: Climb 85%, Tasks/Traps 25%, Hear
3 in 6, Hide 15%, Silent 25%, Locks 15%.
AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+2 armor, +3 Dex, +1 shield) Equipment: leather armor, spear, short sword,
hp 8 (1d8) 2 daggers, backpack, thieves’ tools, bedroll,
Fort +0; Ref +5; Will –1 flint and steel, 5 torches, 8 days trail rations,
waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt pouch, 6hs,
Speed 30 ft. 5sp, and 5cp.
Melee shortspear +1 (1d6+1) or short sword +1 (1d6+1/19–20)
or dagger +1 (1d4+1/19–20)
Ranged sling +3 (1d4+1) or shortspear +3 (1d6+1) or dagger
+3 (1d4+1/19–20)
Special Attacks sneak attack +1d6

Str 12, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 8, Cha 14
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 14
Feats Shield Proficiency, StealthyB
Skills Appraise +6, Bluff +6, Diplomacy +6, Disable Device
+7, Escape Artist +8, Intimidate +6, Knowledge (local) +6,
Perception +3 (+4 locate traps), Profession (merchant) +3,
Sense Motive +3, Sleight of Hand +6, Stealth +8
Languages Common, Nørsk, Seagestrelander
SQ trapfinding
Combat Gear vial of antitoxin, 3 tindertwigs; Other
Gear leather armor, buckler, shortspear, short sword, 2
daggers, sling, 20 sling bullets, backpack, thieves’ tools,
bedroll, flint and steel, 5 torches, 8 days trail rations,
waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt pouch with 6 hs, 5
sp, and 5 cp.

Hailing from southern lands beyond the North Sea, the dusken-
skinned, hatchet-nosed, beady-eyed Outlander called Skagi the
Trader arrived in Halfstead aboard a merchantman out of Bliski. The
apprentice tradesman experienced a falling out with his ship’s master
and found himself left behind on the Northlander shores of Hordaland
as his vessel sailed away to beat the winter weather through the Mul-
stabhin Passage. Fortunately for Skagi he was able to strike up an ac-
quaintance with Jarl Olaf Hendrikson by securing him an excellent deal
on a trade for several casks of imported Southlander wine. Seeing the
sharp wit and naked ambition in the young Outlander, Jarl Olaf took him
into his household to winter. Skagi hopes that by learning the ways of the
Northlanders he can amass a vast fortune in this barbaric land and return
home to Bliski with more gold than his old master ever dreamed of. Until
then he intends to keep his wits sharp and his blade sharper as he navi-
gates the paths and perils of this strange northern land.

22
 Player's Guide

Thórunn Glædirsdottir, Swords & Wizardry Complete Version

Valkyrie-Spirited Maiden Thórunn Glædirsdottir (Clr1): HP 6; AC 4[15]; Atk
THÓRUNN GLÆDIRSDOTTIR CR 1/2 warhammer (1d4+1); Move 15; Save 14; S 14, D 10, C
XP 200 13, I 8, W 17, Ch 10; AL N; CL/XP 1/15; Special: +1 to
Female human cleric of Donar 1 hit strength bonus, +2 on saving throws vs. poison and
CG Medium humanoid (human) paralyzation, spells (1).
Init +0; Perception +3 Spells: 1st—protection from evil.
Aura chaos, good Equipment: chainmail, wooden shield, warhammer,
wooden hammer amulet of Donar, backpack, bedroll, flint
AC 15, touch 10, flat-footed 15 (+4 armor, +1 shield) and steel, 5 torches, 8 days trail rations, waterskin, sack,
hp 10 (1d8+1 plus 1 ) traveler’s outfit, belt pouch, 5hs, 7sp, 5cp.
Fort +3; Ref +0; Will +5

Speed 30 ft.
Melee warhammer +2 (1d8+2/x3) or dagger +2 (1d4+2/19–
20)
Ranged dagger +0 (1d4+2/19–20)
Special Attacks channel energy 4/day (DC 11, 1d6),
spontaneous casting (cure spells)
Domain Spell-like Abilities (CL 1st):
6/day—battle rage (+1), storm burst (1d6 nonlethal)
Spells Prepared (CL 1st):
1st—cure light wounds (DC 14), divine favor, magic
weaponD
0 (at will)—guidance, light, stabilize
D domain spell; Domains War, Weather

Str 14, Dex 10, Con 13, Int 8, Wis 17, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 12
Feats Channel Smite, Martial Weapon Proficiency
(warhammer)D
Skills Knowledge (religion) +3, Linguistics +0, Spellcraft +2
Languages Nørsk, Runic
Gear chain shirt, light wooden shield, warhammer, 4
daggers, wooden hammer amulet of Donar, backpack,
bedroll, flint and steel, 5 torches, 8 days trail rations,
waterskin, sack, traveler’s outfit, belt pouch with 5 hs, 7
sp, and 5 cp.

Daughter of the godi of Jarl Olaf’s household, Thórunn grew

up knowing the call of Donar in her heart. Unlike her father,
Glædir, who tends to his devotions to the Thunderer when not
tending to the forge-fire of his smithy, Thórunn has grown to be
one of those rare godi whose devotion is wholly given to her god,
such that she carries on with no other trade. Her life’s wyrd and
means of living are all tied up in her worship of Donar, and as a true
godi she has received the rare gift of magic from her deity. Unlike most
godi of the godshouses, when she calls on Donar in prayer she is able to
command powers beyond that of the natural world. Recognizing he amaz-
ing potential in Glædir’s daughter, Jarl Olaf has advised the godi that he
should encourage his daughter to travel some and explore the world of the
gods and men before she settles down as the wife of some huscarl to raise
his family and tend to the will of the gods in only small ways. Jarl Olaf
believes that young Thórunn is meant for much more than such a life, and
with her father’s blessing she looks forward to accompanying the house-
holders as they go abroad in the Jarl’s name this spring.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Tales of the Lost Lands:

Tales Pack 3
“Harsh Wyrds” by Jeff Provine..................................................... Pg. 25
“The Brothers of Jarl Skur Skulisdottir” by Kenneth Spencer................ Pg. 30
“Fadr” by Kevin Wright............................................................. Pg. 33

24
 Player's Guide

Harsh Wyrds
By Jeff Provine

GM Note
Spoiler Warning: Light

“Harsh Wyrds” describes the early life and beginnings of the rise to power of Kol the Redhanded, Køenig of Vastavikland. Kol is the ruler
of one of the most ruthless and brutal nations of the Northlands, so the PCs may have ample opportunities to run across him or his ilk during
their adventuring careers in and around the Northlands. He likewise plays a major role in the final adventure of the Northlands Saga Adventure
Path, NS10: The Broken Shieldwall, so he should be kept alive at least until that time if at all possible. The origins of his rise to rulership does
not serve as a spoiler for anything in the adventure and have no real bearing on its play, though the GM should decide if he wants his players to
know the intimate details of the Koenig’s background before he allows them to read this story.

T
The jarl hadn’t worked at all in harvest. He had sat in the hall and
watched the scribe he’d hired count bushels being carried into the granary.
he wind was cold upon Kol Ivrson’s back Kol looked up again with a snarl turning up his face. “There is still
as he faced the firelight that spilled from salted meat in the larders and a little grain in the silo. A smart ring-giver
the hall’s open door. He pulled his fur could manage what—”
cloak tight around his shoulders. Already The jarl grunted. “Watch your mouth, boy. This is no Thing, and you are
the snow’s chill crept through his boots no man who may speak his mind.”
to his toes. His lank black hair hung long “Or if you ate less!” Kol’s voice shook.
over his eyes. The jarl let out a roar and slapped his wide hand onto his belt where
“But why?” he asked. Wolfsbite rested. He drew as he stomped forward.
“Stop pestering us with questions, Kol winced and turned his head.
boy!” the fat jarl called from the doorway. His mother cried out. “No, please! I can’t stand to see another of my
Over the fat man’s shoulder, Kol’s mother whimpered. Her eyes were family slain by the sword! It will surely kill me.”
closed, but tears still flowed from the edges. Kol opened his eyes to see the fat jarl standing still. The sword was in
Kol shook his head. The black shadows of hair flicked before his vision. his hand, but its wide blade rested low. The jarl was looking back at Kol’s
“No. This doesn’t seem right.” mother, whose red-rimmed eyes sparkled through tears.
“I say it’s right, so it’s right!” the jarl yelled. “The winter has been long, After harvest ended and the time of mourning had passed, the jarl
and we’re running low on stores. Perhaps if you’d worked harder in har- had taken her into his hall. His “charity” he called her as he laughed and
vest, we wouldn’t have to be doing this now.” groped. He had said nothing to Kol, who slept alone in his father’s house
Kol released his death-grip on the collar of his fur cloak and looked at as the nights grew longer and colder.
his hands. The fingers were red with cold, thin except where his heavy The jarl shrugged his stout shoulders. “She’s right, boy. Even with an
callouses clung. He had worked hard that harvest. While his mother lay insult like that, I couldn’t kill you outside of holmgang. Now, be off with
in mourning in the house, he did her baking for the next day’s bread even you, for the good of your village and your people! Let wyrd determine
after his own fieldwork with the scythe and flail. your end, so we won’t all starve to death.”

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 The Northlands Saga Complete
Kol tried to speak, but his voice cowered in his throat and would not up and fade into nothing in the face of great Jurderheim.
be dragged out. “It’s not fair,” Kol muttered, now aloud. Men who dared to climb a for-
The jarl turned back to the hall’s doorway. bidden mountain, that vanity was worthy of death. The jarl with his gaping
“What if I hunt?” Kol called out. “I could fell a deer and bring its meat back!” maw sucking up the mead and meat of others’ labors while the rest of the
“Be gone, boy!” the jarl said over his shoulder. village starved, he deserved death. Instead a boy, a deaf warrior, and a man
“But my father’s house… my inheritance!” who just needed to empty his bladder were the ones to die.
The jarl turned his head and smiled his gapped grin, showing where “If I am going to die,” Kol said to the wind, “I might as well do some-
men had knocked out teeth. He’d always returned worse to them. “Don’t thing to deserve it. I’ll climb this mountain sacred to the gods — or cursed
worry yourself, boy. The places of lost men go to the town. As jarl, I’ll by them. I don’t care which!”
care for it.” He pushed himself to his feet. They were so cold that he could not feel
Kol tried to speak again, but no words came, only something of a moan. the ground beneath him for many steps, but he made his legs keep moving.
“Perhaps you won’t die.” The jarl swung himself around, leaning on He rocked his shoulders as he walked, throwing his body a little farther with
the door frame. “You know as well as I, it’s whatever wyrd weaves, boy.” each step. Gradually, he grew warm within the embrace of his cloak. Sweat
The jarl grabbed his mother by the waist, thrusting her breasts against formed under his long strands of black hair, freezing into icicles in the wind.
his chest and his hip between hers. She stumbled on without a word. The elders said that men always climbed the south face of Mount Jurder-
The door slammed. heim, where handholds among the many rocks could be found. The north
For a long moment, Kol stood and watched the door. Blades of light side was all boulders they said, unfit for anyone but a six-legged goat.
pierced slits between the door and the jamb. The windows had long been A great north wind came up. Kol pressed his face into it. It lashed at his
braced against winter with heavy layers of hides tied down with thick cheeks, but he did not look away.
cords. Only muffled sounds slipped out of the hall. He did not know how “Damn this mountain!” Kol said. “And damn you wind, if you’ll pit
much time passed when a shiver finally woke him from his black stupor. yourself against me!”
The sky was so dark with storm clouds that it seemed like night, even The wind howled a reply Kol could not understand. He sneered and
though surely the sun shone beyond the gray ceiling of the world. marched to the north until he came to the Linnorms’s Cleft. It rested like
His chest hurt. He had heard many times of a broken heart in the sagas a pinched valley with only a few patches of bare stone stuck out of the
sung by the skalds, but he thought of it as part of their word-dance. It had snow. It lay like a fresh sheet, bleached white even in the dark. In spring, it
never been a true thing. would become a rushing torrent to feed the streams in the lowlands below.
He turned around and faced the great Mount Jurderheim, which tow- Kol drove his numb feet into the thick snowbank. It grew deeper as
ered over the village resting at its foot. It stood, silent, glowering in the he began his climb, and soon he was crawling fist over knee through the
howls of the wind, showing only disdain for the mortal lives that began crunching white. When he looked back, he saw he left a tremendous wake
and ended in a blink of its immortal watch. No man had ever climbed to its like a broad wound in the mountainside’s flawless white skin. The wind
summit, although everyone knew the legend of the great wyrm that guard- wailed above him.
ed treasure there in a cave. Plenty of men had died trying to fetch it, their As an hour passed, he pulled himself from the drift and onto the frost-
thralls fled down the slope to tell death-tales. There were other mountains licked stone. His furs were soaked, and heat poured from under his collar.
beyond, but they were covered in a blanket of shadows. Kol panted. The cold air tasted sweet.
Kol carried himself to where the land rose steeply to become Jurder- Above him, the clouds were breaking. The wind seemed to be doing its
heim’s rocky flanks. When his weary legs could walk no farther, he let own climb, tearing down handfuls of gray as it reached for the sparkling
himself fall to his knees. Then he dropped his face to the ground, pillowed stars above.
on the thick layer of fresh snow. He pulled his body close under his cloak. Kol smiled and dug his fingers into the cracks on Jurderheim’s frozen
Hot tears eroded the snowbank pillow. face. He climbed under the starlight. Gradually the waning moon appeared
The sky grew darker as true night fell. The cold wind bit at his skin. Out and cast brilliant silver rays, soon joined by the smaller moon, waxing in
in the bitter winter night, a wolf let out its lonely howl. its nightly course. Beneath the dual illumination of lights — bright silver
In utter stillness Kol listened to the sound. When it was gone, he sat up, and dull gray — strange shadows formed amid the crevices and cracks.
eager to hear more. Somewhere in the distance, another wolf answered. The juxtaposed interplay of bright and dark gave the shadows new depth
There was life in the ice. Kol had known that, of course. Never be out at and dimension. Under the weird play of light, paths revealed themselves,
twilight for dangers of the beasts that prowl, the elders told the children. standing out with a glow amid the shadows where he could not trek.
His father had only allowed him to be out as his helper in the evening It occurred to Kol that no one has ever attempted to climb the north face
hunt, listening for sounds that would never reach his fathers’ less-keen before, and certainly not at night with only the light of the double moons
ears. When the howls came, the two would retreat to the warmth of the to serve as guide. And guide it did, almost like a gray and silver beacon
hearth where his mother would have a steaming pot of broth. showing path or handhold where it seemed that there was none. Kol al-
Kol let out a sob that shook him. His father was dead, and that fat, dis- most felt as if he felt a divine hand guiding his way, showing him sure grip
gusting troll of a jarl had his mother. Never again would he work to jump on the slick stone. Perhaps wyrd did guide his steps, bringing him ever
from one of his father’s long snowy prints to the other. closer to a death in the teeth of a legendary dragon atop the summit. He
Ivr’s eyes had been as sharp as a hawk’s, and his bow could pick off didn’t care and pressed ever upward. Let the dragon come.
prey before any other hunter ever spotted it. The town’s larders were The wind pushed his back. It caught up under his cloak, lifting him
bursting-full when Ivr lived, but he had fallen in the raid that summer. when his foot slipped and sent a cascade of pebbles down the mountain’s
The death-wound had been in his back, so they said. If the killer had come frowning face. The cold battered his wiry body, but Kol kicked his limbs
from anywhere but behind, those sharp eyes would have caught sight and and hit his own chest to keep shivers from slowing him down. As he came
allowed him to make ready. to boulders, he waited for a gust to jump with them, sailing farther just as
At least Ivr had lived a full thirty-eight years. Kol only had twelve, a longship voyages farther with a sail than a man may row.
and now the winter would take the rest. He wondered if his body would The mountain grew narrower and the world wider as it stretched out
be torn up as a feast for the starving wolves or if it would be frozen solid beneath Kol. The speck of his village slept as a brown stain with a few
until the spring-melt came like drunk old Gunni who had gone out to piss pinpoints of light amid the snow and trees. Lesser volcanic peaks stood
in a blizzard. The white had swallowed him up, and it was weeks before under their plumes of smoke, said to be the forges of Dvergar who drank
they found him, blue-skinned and frost-kissed, staring with a mute scream from the hot-blood of the earth, tempting an eruption if they drew too
on his lips. deep. Valleys spread past the horizon, where other mountains made their
Wyrd, Kol thought. That’s what they said at Gunni’s funeral. He was own vigil, none of them as jagged and cruel as Jurderheim.
fated to lose the path and stumble through the blinding storm. Kol jumped to a nearly square block of granite, scrambled from his
Wyrd took his father, too. Now it was coming for him. knees to his feet, and gripped an outcropping where he could pull himself
Kol took in a shaking breath. The frost in the air clawed his lungs, and up. When he did, the mountain’s wall suddenly ended, and he found him-
he blew it back out in a cloud of steam. He watched the fog he made float self looking at a flat clearing amid a grove of standing stones.

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It was the summit. Kol stared and gulped the thin air. He had climbed “Yes, I know who I am,” the god said throwing his head back. The
Jurderheim…and he had lived. streaks of blond flashed amid the red curls like lightning as the sun sets.
The storm clouds mostly below him now, the wind was naught but a He narrowed his cold eyes and leaned forward. “And who are you with
weak breeze at such elevation, fluttering his cloak so that it patted his such a big mouth full of bold words?”
shoulders like the hands of his father had when he had done a thing well. “I,” Kol stammered. He looked up at the god and took in a deep breath.
Kol looked north and nodded to it. “I am Kol Ivrson, cursed by wyrd.”
When he turned back, he heard a long grumble from a wide crack in “Cursed by wyrd, eh?” Donar asked. The god leaned back, slapped his
the peak. Reptilian eyes glared out at him from the dark inside the cave, thighs with his broad hands, and began to laugh.
the long black slits amid the gold widening and then deepening again. A His booming hoots made the rocks shake again. Kol spread his arms
long, red tongue darted out into the cold air, tasted it, and then retreated and legs to keep his body low and retain his balance.
back into the shadows. At last Donar finished his laughing fit and wiped tears from his eyes.
Kol stared at the Wyrm of Mount Jurderheim. With just a handful of its “Oh, boy, what do you know of wyrd?”
treasure, he could return to the hall and feed the whole village for years. Kol stammered again.
He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “No, I didn’t come here for your “You think I am responsible for what wyrd has woven?” Donar asked.
gold. I have no quarrel with you.” “Not even Greatfather Wotan cuts his own cloth! The giantesses, those
He turned his narrowed eyes upward and pointed one of his ragged, Norns, they do the work of wyrd as they spin at the foot of Yggdrasil,
blood-stained fingers toward the star-studded sky. “I quarrel with the gods putting together what they’ve judged from each child when it’s born. But
themselves!” I have a question for you, boy.”
The wind suddenly picked up as if making a shriek. Donar leaned close.
Kol pulled his finger into a fist and shook it. “How dare you curse a boy Kol’s throat closed up, and he gagged rather than replied.
with a fallen father and then set the winter to steal his life?” He raised his “Who spins the threads of the Norns, eh?” the god whispered.
other fist. “How do you sit idle upon your thrones while a fat man takes a Kol stared until he had to blink. He had no answer.
widow from her still-warm bed?” Donar stood up and began roaring with laughter again. He brought
The wind faltered. The night was still. down a mighty hand upon Kol’s shoulder, knocking him to the ice-
“If you were here…” Kol’s voice began to drift soft, but he raised it patched rocks.
again. “If you were here, I’d challenge you to the holmgang for the insult When the god finished laughing, Kol picked himself up again. He could
you’ve laid upon me!” feel the bruise on his backside forming.
The stars stared down at him. Donar wiped his eyes again. “See? No one knows these things! Don’t
Kol breathed ragged breaths. He spoke again to assure himself he wasn’t go spouting about wyrd this and wyrd that when you don’t know a thing
sobbing. “Donar, I challenge you first of all! My father prayed to you for about it.”
protection as he couldn’t hear your mighty thunder! You abandoned him “The elders speak of wyrd,” Kol mumbled.
in battle, he who honored you with our first-fruits! You abandoned him!” Donar cocked one fiery eyebrow. “They do, do they? Well, let them.
He struck his fist against his head. “If you are a real god, then show your There are a few prophets — or whatever you call those — that know a
face and prove this accursed wyrd is somehow justice!” thing or two about what Skuld’s hand holds, but I wouldn’t speak on it
Thunder began to rumble in the cloudless, moonlit sky. It started as a unless I heard it from the lady herself.”
distant echo, and it grew louder and closer. Pebbles began to dance, and Kol scratched his head and finally nodded.
then then the mountaintop quaked under Kol’s feet. Kol had to undo his “Nonetheless, I suppose I shall act as their champion,” Donar said, roll-
fists and clamp his hands over his ears to keep out the pulsing noise of ing his head back and forth. “What with you challenging me and all.”
Hrym the Boatman beating his oars upon the waters of the sky. “I what?” Kol blurted.
A shrill cry rang out from the wyrm, who then fled deep inside its cave. “You challenged me to the holmgang, boy.” Donar’s eyes were still and
The wind gusted suddenly from the south and became still again. serious. “Shall we?”
Out of the edge of night, a shooting star appeared. It raced toward Jur- “I…I,” Kol stammered once more.
derheim, bigger and brighter like the dawn. Kol pulled his hands from his Donar leaned forward again. “You are a boy of mind’s-worth, aren’t you?”
ears to shade his eyes. As he peered, the light became the form of two long- Kol swallowed his stammering utterance and let out a steady one. “I am.”
horned goats racing across the sky. Thunder continued to rumble, in time “So be it. You challenged, so set up the field!”
not with the Jötnar boatman but rather with the beat with the goats’ hooves. Kol looked around. The outcroppings at the edge of the peak would
The goats pulled behind them a golden cart. The man driving it swung serve as standing stones, marking the line where cowards crossed. Here,
his bulging arm to crack a whip that flashed with lightning. He had a the fleeting foot of a coward would lead him straight over the edge and
curling red beard and hair to match. Locks of yellow shone through the down the face of Jurderheim. Perhaps that would be his death.
rust of his hair. “Except,” Kol mumbled. He cleared his throat again, “I have no weapons.”
Jurderheim itself now shook. Kol fell to his knees and clutched the Donar cocked his eyebrow and stood, waiting.
uneven stones of the peak. Below him, terrible cracking sounds of rocks “Uh, mighty Donar,” Kol said slowly, “do you have weapons we can use?”
giving way spurred avalanches that added to the din. The god’s blank face melted into a drunkard’s grin again. “Ha, I thought
The cart of blinding luminescence came to alight upon the mountain- you were about to argue your way out of it, boy! Wield Loptr’s words to
top, and all thunder ceased. twist your own until my head grew weary. No, you do seek to fight! I’ll
The driver stepped down. He was somehow the size of a tall man, yet oblige such courage.”
towering like a giant, two images that seemed like shadows of one another Kol watched the god saunter back to his cart. Even though it seemed
at once ye both equally solid and real. It hurt Kol’s eyes to see him, but he only large enough to hold the enormous Æsir, he pulled from its corners
refused to look away. six greatshields and a longsword. Kol shivered when he saw its blade
Kol realized the crotch of his trousers had grown warm and wet. He gleam in the moonlight.
didn’t know when it had happened. He slid his cloak over his front and He pounded his chest again and untied the strap that kept his cloak
pressed his legs together. Pushing himself up from the ice-flecked stone, bound around his neck. It flew free, and he felt the crisp air wrap around
Kol tried to stand without shaking. his body. Kol hoped the god would not mention the stain between his legs.
The driver took stolid strides toward Kol, a massive hand resting on a He knelt and laid the cloak flat as the formal middle of the battlefield, just
short-handled hammer tucked into a wide and shining belt. The other hand as he had seen Steinar and Geir do after Geir had said Steinar’s wife had
pointed an enormous finger directly at him. the eyes of a goat and a worse smell.
“You, boy? You?” the driver called. “You dare yell blasphemies and Donar laid out three greatshields painted black with yellow streaks like
question me?” lightning from the storm clouds on his side of the cloak. Kol’s shields
Kol opened his mouth, but his word-vault was empty. He swallowed were naked brown lindenwood. The Æsir offered the longsword by its
and finally whispered out, “Donar…” blade. Kol took its hilt.

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Donar himself drew on his iron glove and pulled the hammer Mjolnir Wouldn’t the man in the well?”
from its place in his belt. Kol felt his eyes go wide. He looked away to Kol snarled. “We’re all marching to death. That’s part of wyrd! Wyrd
grab a shield. probably sent that mouse to kill the man all the faster.”
“You ready then, boy?” Donar asked as he took up one of his own shields. “So what’d you do about it? Swat the mouse? Risk losing your grip?”
Kol tightened his hands around the longsword’s leather-wrapped hilt and “I,” Kol began. Donar was near the edge of the stone floor now, and Kol
then held it as if it were part of his skin, just as his father had showed him. moved fast enough that he kept the god pinned by his size. “I’d just let go.
Too tight, and he’d feel the blow up his own arm; too loose, and the sword Wyrd wants me dead, so be it!”
would fall from his hand. “I am… First strike goes to the challenged.” He swung his sword at the mark where he had struck Donar’s shield be-
Donar chuckled again and jabbed his mighty hammer against Kol’s shield. fore. The blade met the thinned wood, and it sent a broad crack down the
It may have seemed like a mere tap to the Æsir, but the blow had enough grain. As Kol brought the sword back, the left side of the lightning-crossed
force to knock Kol backward two steps. Thunder rolled from Mjolnir, shield bent and broke away.
causing pebbles to dance again with fright. The wyrm hissed from the Donar looked down at it on the ground. Then he looked up at Kol. “You
deep shadows of its cave. fight pretty bravely for someone willing to just let himself die.”
Kol kept his footing only by scurrying his boots over the frost-specked Kol’s throat was dry. He tried to swallow to wet it.
stone to find purchase. When he was steady, he took deep gulps of the cold Picking up another shield, Donar said, “Is that really what you want, boy?
mountain air and raised his longsword high above his head. It would be a To see Hel’s glum face? I can tell you, she’s no great treat to gaze upon.”
foolish attack in battle, but this was the holmgang. He needed all the force Kol just stared at him.
he could muster to crack a god’s shield. Kol worked his feet two small Donar pointed Mjolnir past the mountaintop. “If it be so, do it, then. Jump.”
paces to the left, toward the shield and away from the weapon that had Kol looked at the moonlit landscape. A volcano some miles distant
cracked a thousand Jötnar skulls. smoked sleepily among the sparkling white peaks. Jagged rocks rested
Donar wasn’t even looking at him. His stormy eyes were turned to the in the shadows below. They would break and tear his body apart in an
crag where the dragon cowered. He stuck his lips out past his red beard instant, and the fall itself would be as peaceful as an eagle’s glide before
and hmmed at it. that quick end.
“This wyrm here reminds me of a tale they tell inland, where the only He turned away. “No.”
waves come in a sea of tallgrass brushed by the wind.” “Why not? Turned coward are you?”
Kol bit his wind-chapped lip. He’s telling stories? Kol shook his head. “No, I know wyrd’s sentenced me to death, but it’s
A wave of warm rage rose up in his chest, and Kol brought the sword down. not like that.” He raised up his shield. Somehow, a smile settled on his lip.
It struck the shield with little more than a dull thud. The blade stuck, “Perhaps it will be in battle at the hand of a god.”
and Kol had to bend his knees to yank it out. The god’s arm held steady. Donar snorted and swung Mjolnir as he rushed so fast he seemed like a
Donar lowered the shield, glanced at the divot, and then rolled back his mist in the wind. Kol heard the hammer hit the shield, but all he saw was
shoulders to stand tall. the oak fly toward him. It hit him in the face and chest, throwing him onto
Kol brought up his shield. He pressed the wrist of his sword-hand his back amid the black rocks. Blood poured down from his nose as he
against his shield-arm and spread his feet, ready for any blow. coughed and wheezed.
Donar raised Mjolnir. “It’s of a man journeying from one land to the other, Still, he brought himself onto his haunches. His shield had landed flat
a trader or some such. Or maybe he’s a hunter. Whatever he was, he was all against him, so it hadn’t broken.
alone when he found himself being tracked by a horrid beast, snarling and Donar came toward him with plodding steps. “So, you wouldn’t just let
spitting flecks as it began to chase after him. He ran for his life, as fast as his go after all, eh, boy? What would you do, then? The mouse is chewing up
weary legs could carry him, but the monster was fast and gaining on him. your root, and it’s only a short while before you plummet to your doom!”
“Then he spotted an old well. Without thinking, he jumped over the Kol brought up his sword-hand, but it was empty. The blade had skit-
stone lip. Just as he fell inside, he found one of this one’s kin nesting at the tered away on the frost-licked rock several feet. He scrambled toward it,
bottom.” Donar pointed Mjolnir toward the wyrm-haunted cave. his boots slipping, so he walked on his knees.
“He threw out his hands, grabbing for anything, and his fingers found a “You said there was honeycomb,” Kol called out to stall the marching
root sticking from the muddy wall. His grip was true, and there he found god. “Perhaps I would reach out to it, take it, and suck the sweetness from
himself dangling between the gaping maw of the monster in the water be- my fingers.”
low and the snapping jaws of the monster prowling above. The only other “What good would that do?” Donar blurted from behind his shield.
things in the well were a bit of honeycomb dripping sweetly nearby and a “It’d make me feel better!” Kol cried.
little mouse that came to nibble on the fresh green-root. He swung up his sword, pushing up from his knees so that he brought
“So, boy, the man was surrounded by death.” Donar cleared his throat all the strength in his legs as he rose. The sword’s sharp blade bit deep
and pushed his curly red locks back with Mjolnir’s wide hammerhead. into the wood from its edge. It found a seam and split the wood with a
“What would you have done if you found yourself there?” hearty crack.
“I don’t know,” Kol answered truthfully. Kol stood breathing deep as both he and the god stared at the broken board.
Donar brought Mjolnir down square onto Kol’s shield. There wasn’t Donar laughed as he changed out to his final storm-mural shield. “So
even time for him to consider dodging. There was a flash of light and a the honeycomb, eh? Eating, drinking, spending cold nights warm with a
crack of thunder as the oak shield shattered. Kol was thrown flat onto his lady by your side?”
back. Splinters fell all around him. It didn’t sound like a bad life to Kol. His eyes practically saw the hearth
“That’s one for me,” Donar said. “Get up and have your turn.” when Donar struck his unreadied shield-arm.
Kol spat out the bloody taste in his mouth and pulled himself back to The world spun, and Kol threw out his hands. They didn’t catch him; he
his feet. He brushed what was left of the shield off his arm and took up fell hard, face-first into the rock. His head ached. He brought up his throb-
another. His flesh was cold enough that he couldn’t feel any pain beneath bing shield-hand to touch where it hurt worst. Fresh, hot blood matted the
his earth-stained skin. black hair that hung in his eyes.
Donar stood with his own shield ready. “What would you do, boy?” For a moment, Kol rested on the stone floor. The thought of a warm life
“Do what?” had only distracted him in the midst of the holmgang.
“Hanging from a root in a well with a dragon beneath you and a How could I have been so stupid?
beast above?” A new vision passed before him. It was the fat jarl sitting by the fire:
“I’m trying to concentrate on the holmgang!” Kol shouted. One round hand held a wooden stein frothing with mead, the other held
Donar snorted. “You call this concentrating? Fight with your gut, boy!” Kol’s mother, who fed him honeycomb from her timid fingers.
Kol let out a grunt and rushed forward. Donar slid back several long Rage boiled up inside him. Kol pushed himself first to his knees, and
strides before Kol could come close enough for a swing. then he rose. Blood pounded in his ears as he turned back to the god.
“Quit squirming!” Kol yelled. Without a word, Kol brought down a chopping strike upon Donar’s shield.
“I have to!” Donar said with a chortle. “I want to live! Don’t you? The blows fell hard and fast now. Donar jabbed with the flat head of

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Mjolnir, edging Kol back. Kol charged in close with his own turn to Donar’s hand stopped and turned over. His fingers beckoned.
strike. His shield-arm throbbed under the god’s assault, and his sword- Kol took the god’s grip.
arm screamed as he laid down his attacks. He would not let Donar enough Donar hoisted Kol off the mountain-edge and set him down back in the
space to swing his mighty skull-cracker. middle of the peak. He smiled behind his broad, red beard. “So you think
“I’ll tell you… what I would do… if I were the man in the well,” Kol you could slay the beast, eh, boy?”
said between sharp breaths and the thunderous blows. “Who am I to judge what wyrd weaves?” Kol asked with a shrug.
“What’s that?” Donar threw back his head, gripped both sides of his belly, and laughed
“I,” Kol began, taking in deeper breaths to give strength to his arms. “I so that the whole mountain shook. “You’re a wise one…even if you did
would climb that well wall… I would face that beast!” wet yourself!” He added the last slyly stealing a sideways glance towards
“Surely it’d slay you, boy!” the boy with the most comical expression of mirth.
Donar prodded him again. Kol was near the wyrm’s crag now at the Kol tried to laugh, too, but a fresh wave of pain rushed through him
edge of the peak. If one foot slipped, he would plummet into the shadow with the first gasp. It pulsed from his hand, where the flesh was now burnt
of the dragon’s cave, where he might catch glimpse of the treasure before wine-red. He could make the fingers move by gritting his teeth enough to
it bit him in two. If his other foot slipped, he’d tumble off the lip of the endure the pain, but he doubted the scar would ever heal.
mountaintop, the rocks breaking his bones as he struck them again and “Well, Redhanded, what shall I grant you?” Donar asked. “Half a god’s
again until he landed in Hel’s dark hall. wergild? Some magic trinket? Perhaps you want me to intercede for your
“It could,” Kol admitted, “or I could slay it!” behalf before Wotan himself?”
He thrust back one of his legs toward the crag-mouth, catching the Kol looked directly into the god’s stormy eyes for a moment. Then he
sole of his boot firmly against the upthrust rock. In one smooth mo- turned away and shook his head.
tion, he jumped with his other foot and brought both of his hands to- “None of those are what the holmgang was about,” he said. “I asked
gether on the hilt of his borrowed sword as he was in the air. He then to see the justice in the tapestry of wyrd. And this,” he said, raising his
thrust his feet out laterally into the rock wall beside him and pushed scarred hand, “is enough wergild for my answer.”
off with all his strength, the tip of his sword leading his sudden ma- Donar clapped an enormous hand onto Kol’s shoulder. The god’s eyes
neuver. The weight of the heavy blade propelled him with even more were dark with pride. “I wish to fight alongside you someday, Kol Ivrson,
force than he could have mustered on his own, and he fancied that perhaps against the world-serpent Jörmungandr itself.”
even a sudden gust of the wind gave him a little push. The tip of his Kol nodded. “If a valkyrie sees fit to take my spirit to that day, I’ll be there.”
sword bit into the center of Donar’s shield with all of the force he The god nodded in return. He clapped hands with Kol once more,
had brought to bear. turned without a word, and climbed into his cart. Thunder boomed as the
The shield gave with a violent shriek of strained wood. Somewhere goats’ hooves struck against the mountaintop.
beneath it, the blade met god-flesh, and Donar gave a short bark of pain. The journey down the mountain lasted until the bright moon began to
Lightning flashed, and stabbing pain ran up Kol’s sword arm. He added set. Caked blood rested across one side of Kol’s face. His white arms were
his own scream to the din. The world flew around him until once more his covered with bruises as dark as the rocks. The ice cooled and staunched
shoulders met with the hard rock footing of the mountaintop. his wounds, and the wind helped carry him on his way, buoying his feet
He lay there on his back gasping for breath, holding his raw and blood- over the most difficult parts. He owed them libation upon his return.
ied sword arm as the wind gusted again. Yet before he could do that, there would be one more holmgang. Kol
Donar strode over him. He had set aside his hammer and shield, hold- Ivorson would challenge the jarl, and he would kill him.
ing only the little wound on his arm where something like amber Æsir Kol paused in thought as he clung to the rock face of the mountain.
blood dripped. He could become jarl upon standing over the fat man’s corpse. A twelve-
“Well fought. You’ve won the holmgang, Kol Ivrson.” year-old jarl? Could that be so? If so, why stop there? Maybe Vastavikland
Donar reached out a hand toward him. needed a køenig.
Kol wanted to flinch. The god could’ve flicked his frail human body off “If wyrd weaves it,” he told himself, and he continued down the moun-
the mountain as if he were ridding himself of spent wineskin, yet Kol did tain back to his village, a square of cloak to stand upon, and a fat man with
not turn away. a wyrd to face.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

The Brothers of
Jarl Skur Skulisdottir
By Kenneth Spencer

GM Note
Spoiler Warning: Light

“The Brothers of Jarl Skur Skulisdottir” is not connected with any particular adventure in the Northlands Saga Adventure Path. Its char-
acters and events relate the tale of other heroes of the Northlands, a generation or more ago. It makes mention of the early struggles the newly
forming Estenfird faced against the (unnamed in the story) Cult of Shiburauth, which is prominently featured in NS4: Blood on the Snow,
though in a much later incarnation, and it makes mention of some of the early days of the reaver Sven Oakenfist, who is a major character
in NS3: The Death Curse of Sven Oakenfist. But in neither case does it detail information pertinent to those particular adventures. Running
Northlands characters and burgeoning heroes themselves, it would even be appropriate to allow your players to read this story and learn not only
something of Northlands history and tradition but also the tales of heroes who have gone before and the struggles that they faced. Hopefully
such a tale can bring your Northlands campaign to life for your players even more.

A
tale! A tale of heroes, of adventure along the the distant past, Skuli’s late wife died birthing a monster, a thing not fully
whale-road…though you have had neither, human — a thing part giant. That his wife should die bruised his heart; that
skald,” the battle-scarred woman called. she would do so bringing this cursed thing into the world broke it. Skuli
Snorri eyed the feasting warriors lounging ordered the cunning woman to take both the mewling things out into the
at their ease around his mother’s hall — some snow and leave them for the wolves. For if one child be so cursed in the
mighty heroes, some family huscarls, oth- womb, surely they must both be; such was the wisdom of my Skuli Valison.
ers…loafers who had spent the winter drink- The cunning woman wrapped the babes together in a cloak and carried
ing her mead and eating her bread; loafers, them out to be left to die. The next morning all were awakened by the sound
like the drunken Kadlin Ottarsdottir who had of what the hall assumed was a dog whimpering in pain, but it was no dog.
wandered in off the moors just yesterday with The giant-blooded son, his skin pinked and blood invigorated by the cold
her band of free-swords and imposed upon night air, stood like a child of a year or more, though he was but a day old.
the good name and hospitality of the jarl. His brother, the normal one, lay wrapped in the cloak, asleep and safely
“Truth, yes, I have never traveled the whale-road, nor had an adventure. nestled between his stubby misshapen legs. The brothers were in the center
And ‘tis also true that I have never seen the world beyond the sight of my of a circle of snow, reddened with the battle-dew. The misshapen infant,
mother’s hall. not only twisted but also strengthened with the blood of the Jötnar, had fed
“Once I had an uncle who—” the eagles well during the night — fed them with not one but a dozen of
“Heroes, I said,” the woman spit the words as much as she spoke them Gunnr’s horses. These wolves lay scattered about, twisted in death, save
and underscored them with a dashing of a full cup against the wooden those few still trying to drag their wounded frames away and whimpering
floorboards. “Heroes, not scum like that!” like pups not yet weaned.
The band of nameless men who followed Kadlin echoed her words and Not even a man completely shorn of heart could deny the courage and
pounded their tables. might, not to mention the selflessness of such love between brothers. Put-
“None about those of his ilk, eh? Perhaps, then, you would rather hear ting aside the wisdom of the elders, Skuli brought both babes back into
how my uncle died? How in the end the evil in him won through, and his hall and raised them as his sons. The human one he named Diarf, and
his own brother had to slay him? My mother loathes this tale, but she is the monster was called Boë.
already to bed for the hour is late and the moon has set. She would surely The two grew up, Boë much faster than his brother — much faster and
not mind a short telling beyond her hearing.” much larger, for the blood of the Jötnar seemed to tell the most in him.
“My tale begins ‘ere I was born, before the cunning woman drew me The twins, though inseparable as children sharing a womb often are, were
forth from my mother’s womb, all twisted legs and broken spine. It begins otherwise like the moon and the sun. The one had a face like an unformed
with the birth of twin sons to the former jarl of this hall, Skuli Valison. clay pot, capped in a mass of wiry black hair. The other was fair of face
Skuli’s young wife had a hard pregnancy, and the cunning woman did all and frame, and much admired among the women of the hosuehold. Where
she could. The efforts of that wise crone were for naught, though, for fair In- Boë was monstrously strong, Diarf was lean and limber. Boë never mas-
githora died bringing two sons into the world. One screamed and thrashed, tered speaking and often flew into rages that only his brother or father
his tiny limbs flailing about, the other lay like death, blue of face, and worse, could calm, while Diarf learned poetry and fine words, practiced restraint
his body was misshapen and deformed, much more so than my own broken in all things, and showed mind’s-worth in hesitation and deed.
shape…” Boë’s rages grew worse as his body reached terrible proportions and his
strength matched that of an entire shieldwall. Only through the interven-
***** tion of his brother was murder narrowly averted, but even then the jarl had
to pay the wergild to those the giant had injured and terrified. The presence
Through some witchery or perhaps a union between man and Jötnar in of this monster threatened to drive the oath-sworn men and women from

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Skuli’s hall and ruin him in the process, for Boë consumed three cattle a son. They, of course, had not seen Boë still in his concealed position.
week and by himself drank as much mead as a hall of feasting warriors. Then the battle-sweat flew from outlaw and hero alike.

***** *****

“We all know this, crippled skald. Get to the part where brother slew brother.” “You dare to call that monster a hero,” Kadlin said, turning towards her
Kadlin’s followers pounded the tables and stomped the floorboards, men for their reaction. They laughed on cue, bringing a smug expression
echoing their mistress’s words. to the warrior-woman’s face.
“This tale is long, as it should be, for the brothers left home together and “Yes, brave Kadlin, for they were both heroes that day, and on many
sought their own fortunes abroad, giving up all claim to the jarl’s lands days after. As the outlaws laughed at the courage of a man filled with
and oaths to pass to their younger half-sister, born of the jarl’s second mind’s-worth, they also laughed at a man of cunning, a man who had long
wife Hildísif — my own grandmother. Diarf put on a brave face and made mastered the ways of the hnefatafl board. For as they laughed and jeered,
much of a desire for adventure, but all knew the reason for the parting was Boë crept around the camp to charge them from the unexpected flank.
to take his brother away. Boë’s rages had grown as fearsome as his size, Five outlaws died on his mighty axe in his initial charge, and three more as
and all feared he would transform into a terrible beast, into Donar’s-foe.” the blood-ember rose and fell in great arcs once he was among them. Foe
Serpent drawn, Diarf rushed to fight Gunthorm the Ravager, and fought
***** as a man in a duel, breaking three of the outlaw’s shields before driving
him to his knees amidst the wound-sea of his fellows. There he sank the
wound-hoe home and brought the sleep of the sword to the vile outlaw.
Their father, the Jarl Skuli, was a ring-giver and -breaker of much re-
Those few who still lived scattered into the surrounding forest never to be
nown, a stout hearted man who could weather the storm of spears and stand
seen again in those lands.
square in the shieldwall of his people. Thus he was a man of great wealth,
Taking the heads of the outlaws as grisly trophies and driving the stolen
but this brothers forsook and took only the most meager of provisions to herds of sheep before them, the brothers returned to Jarl Northri and ac-
carry, not even a dragon-headed longship would be theirs. Their father, see- cepted the rings of a generous man. One could not tell the sheep of Orm-
ing two young men bound for adventure, pushed upon them arms and armor son from the sheep of other jarls, and though courage, honor, cunning, and
appropriate for the sons of a jarl, and these they did accept. might-of-arms had won the day, it would be three years of suits before the
Diarf was clad in a helm of good steel and a fine shirt of thrice-linked Thing ‘ere the disposition of the sheep was settled. Though the brothers
chain. Upon his right arm Skuli placed a strong shield of lindenwood played no part in that different sort of battle.
and metal, well painted in red, blue, and green. In his son’s left hand the Next they sailed for a time with Ornolf the Shark-Render. With him
ring-breaker Skuli laid a blood-worm named “Foe Serpent”, and its hilt they raided the land of the Seagestrelanders, taking many thralls as well as
was adorned with Freyja’s tears. a mountain of Freyja’s tears. Then they struck into the Southlands, filling
Boë, though not as well loved by the people as his handsome and cunning cups with Sif’s hair and the Moons’ leavings and putting the cowardly
brother, was no less the son of a jarl. For him was not the chain hauberk, for to Southlanders to flight. The fame of the brothers grew, and with the reg-
clad such a body in linked mail would be as to clad five men in cost and effort. ular wetting of the grass and sand — aye, and even the waves — with
Instead, the jarl ordered a shirt of boiled aurochs hide be made, cut without the slaughter-dew of his foes, Boë learned something of quietness in his
sleeves and deep in the chest to encompass Boë’s broad frame. This was then soul…though not enough.
mounted with squares of iron nailed into the toughened leather. A headland of Among the crew of the Wyrm Rider, the sea-steed of Ornolf, was a
axeheads was forged and mounted atop a roof pole cut to serve as haft to be giv- Bearsarker known as Thorvald the Unwashed. While none of that brave
en to the monstrous brother, a weapon so large three men had to carry it to him. crew was frightened of Boë, all were wary of a man who stood tall as the
So armed and equipped, the brothers set out on their uncle’s ship to sail rafters in a jarl’s hall,and who could lift an ox and eat the whole thing as
to Trotheim and find their wyrd. well. Only Thorvald the Unwashed cared to speak with Boë, and soon he
For five years the brothers traveled the Northlands, and in this time had seen through to the mind’s-worth in the heart of the monster, teaching
Diarf gained fame for his courage and mind’s-worth, his skill with the Boë the ways of Wotan and the sacred madness that calmed the heart as
wound-hoe, and his fame as a feeder of ravens. Their first test was at the it boiled the blood.
village of Hallheim in Gatland. There they found the local jarl beset by None knew if the All-father would accept a giant-blooded monster as
foes. Northri Ormson’s sheep were disappearing. His hunters had found his sworn warrior, but the brothers went ashore with Thorvald the Un-
the tracks of strangers deep in the forest and once a cold camp of the kind washed to try. For nine days and nine nights Boë hung upon the Tree of
used by those under the sentence of outlawry. The jarl was ill; he was Woe, stout spears piercing his wrists, shoulders, thighs, and belly. Anoint-
a man who had seen a four score winters in his hall, and though he did ed with sacred oils and unguents, drenched in freezing water — for the
not lack in mind’s-worth, he lacked in strength of arm and back. Northri Tree of Woe had been made at the sea’s edge — and his body coursing
longed to pass his hall and oath-bound huscarls to his son, but could not do with the fire of the moss Wotan’s Eye, Boë suffered and died. Yet he did
so with the threat of the sheep thieves, for all knew this to be no mere wolf not die; rather he was reborn. On the tenth morning Boë tore one arm free,
and with that hand gouged out his own eye, casting it into the bane of
but a cunning and vile band of men. He asked the brothers for their aid.
wood that Thorvald the Unwashed had formed at his feet.
Readily the brothers took up this task, and alone they tracked the out-
Thus Boë was consecrated as a sacred warrior of Wotan and induct-
laws deep into the forest. There they found a large camp, and tracks that
ed into the divine madness of the cult of the Bearsarkers. Boë became
leading off to other halls and villages. The outlaws had gathered men and
more controllable, if any could name a Bearsarker as such. As Ornolf the
women forsaken by even their kin, and had chosen to add to their perfidy Shark-Render had no need of two Bearsarkers in his crew, and as isolation
by numbering theft and murder amongst their crimes. and private contemplation are the ways of such men, the brothers soon
Seeing the camp, Boë wished to rush in and slay as was his wont, but parted ways with their benefactor and struck out on their own once more.
Diarf laid hand upon his brother’s forearm and counseled patience. For Much could be said of their adventures after this, of the foes they van-
three days and nights they watched from hiding, all the time Boë fuming quished together, and of their shared glories. Word filtered back to their fa-
and stamping to get to task and bring the wound-sea to the villains. ther’s hall — no longer ruled by Jarl Skuli Valison’s but rather now by Jarl
On the fourth morning, Diarf called out in a loud voice as he stepped Skur Skulisdottir. The twins were seen in the shieldwall at Hrolfdale when the
forth from his place of concealment and challenged the outlaws. The Gatlanders raided the Hrolf coast in the summer of the Falling Sky. Skalds
leader of the band, Guthorm the Ravager — the same Guthorm who had told of their slaying the nachtjägers that haunted the grasslands beyond Dnip-
murdered the wife and daughter of Jarl Hialti Bothvarson in the previous irstead. It was Diarf and Boë who sailed with Sven Tokison and drove the
summer, known as Guthorm the Rat-Faced by some — strode forth. He sea raider Sven Oakenfist from the shores of Hordaland in the autumn of the
laughed to see one lone man — not much more than a down-cheeked boy, Year of Leaping Fish. When the great whale Nalithrov harried the ships from
really — stand boldly before a dozen armed and desperate outlaws. the seas, the great heroes Lini the Proud and Raghild Tufisdöttir — named
The entire band laughed. They laughed at a young man first setting out Donar’s Hammer by some — called upon the brothers to accompany them
to seek his fortune and a name for himself. They laughed at Diarf Skuli- into the beast’s maw. They came out again with a wealth of ambergris the

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 The Northlands Saga Complete
likes of which the world had not seen before and may never again. the Last Hirth stood firm against the horde of beasts and beastmen, of
In the fifth year of their travels, the brothers choose to spend the winter savage Jötnar and foul witches. The battle-dew formed its own river, and
in the hall of Jarl Mursi the Halfman, the famed half-Nûklander jarl of the bodies clogged the Ice River for thirteen miles.
northern Gatland. That winter the snows fell heavy and the hall echoed As the shieldwall stood against the flood of the monsters, the swans of
with the merry sounds of feasting heroes. All was not to be so pleasant, blood filled the sky yelling for their feast. Many a wound-hoe ripped apart a
though, for the world is a dark and terrible place and winter worse still. deformed thing, blood-embers rose and fell with thuds against gnarled and
A slåtten — a terrible beast birthed from a man when a Bearsarker falls hoary flesh, and the weather of weapons went on for three days and nights.
into madness — burst into the hall and slew the huscarls, carrying off the On the fourth day the two brothers finally met in battle, the shieldwall
jarl’s eldest child. It is rare for a slåtten to take a prisoner, and this caused even of men and the hordes of monsters pulling back to give them room like the
greater alarm in the jarl, more so than his own severed arm and broken spine. sacred precincts of the holmgang, for all knew that this fight was the one
Many heroes died that night and in the ensuing hunt for the beast, but the that the gods, both the fair Æsir and the foul Ginnvaettir longed to see —
twins pressed forward even after the beast had fled deep into the mountains. the battle for the future of Estenfird decided in one meeting, one thrust of
For the rest of that winter and the following seasons the brothers harried the blood-worm or the tearing of mighty claws.
the monster from one haven to another. Never had a slåtten, an ever unpre- One brother fought with resignation and love, for he saw what a foul
dictable monster made from a fallen man, behaved thusly. The twins hunted thing his womb-mate had truly become. The other howled with savagery
the creature deep into the mountains, and some say beyond the Northlands and fury, for he lusted for his kinsman’s blood — sought to right old wrongs
and over the Sea of Grass. Such a journey needs be recorded, for none has imagined or half-perceived. Boë bore a mighty shield made from planks cut
ever dared so much, the brothers kept no maps or records — even though from a burned and desecrated gods-wood. Diarf wielded a sword forged in
Diarf was well schooled in the runes — but kept strictly to their task. the fiery heart of a volcano. Boë’s headland of axes was splintered and sent
The next winter, they finally brought the slåtten to bear, trapped in a dry raining upon the field in fiery shards, giving an opening for his brother to
boxed-in canyon on the edge of a great expanse of sand. The beast had plunge the glowing sword deep into his kinsman’s belly.
taken the jarl’s child and turned it into an acolyte of sorts in a perverted Such a blow should end any man, but Boë was not a just a man; he was
and debased form of Wotan worship that the All-Father had long forbid- a Bearsarker, one sworn to the All-Father’s cause and unwavering in his
den. This was not the only such child taken by the beast, for it had formed oaths. Even as Diarf drove the blade deeper into the giant-blooded man,
a small cult of twisted creatures as foul as itself. he placed one mighty hand upon his brother’s shoulders and one massive
Enraged by their long chase and their mind’s-worth ablaze with the fury fist around his brother’s head. Was he seeking the battle harvest or em-
of the gods at such travesty against Man and Æsir, the twins charged in, bracing him with one last remembered semblance of a brother’s love?
slaying and hacking through the throng. Bodies heaped upon bodies as the Only one could ever say, but either way the result was the same; tearing
crazed cultists ran with eagerness to die upon the brothers’ blades. As at and pulling, he strained his gnarled and knotted muscles until with a sick-
birth, and for the last time, Diarf was beset by a pack of beasts assaulting ening snap and tearing noise Diarf’s head came free as one would twist the
him only to have Boë stand tall over his brother’s body and defend him head from a fish before filleting.
with his own life. With their champion dead—
But is was not to be Boë’s death or even Diarf’s that day. Instead the
ravens called for the the slåtten and his cultists. By savage sweeps of his *****
great axe, the one men have come to call the Three-Man Blood-Ember,
the cultists were laid to the sleep of the sword. The swans of blood circled “And good riddance,” the scarred woman interrupted, “For we all know
high over the wound-sea and spear-din, and the slåtten readied itself to the lies and crimes of Diarf Skulison the False, oath-breaker to man and
die or see its followers avenged. And die it did, for as it leapt at Boë, the gods alike.” Kadlin had mounted her table to further press home her point
wounded Diarf rallied his remaining strength and flung Foe Serpent out with the skald, amidst the cheers and echoing calls of her men.
from the shelter of his brother’s tree-trunk legs. The slåtten, caught off “Yes, it is as you say. Diarf did prove false and oath-breaker, but he
guard by the stinging blade of Diarf was unready when Boë’s mighty axe also did much good in his life before he was broken and twisted to evil.
fell and split the beast in twain from shoulder to manhood. Surely there is place in the vastness of Asgard for some remembrance of
Long did the brothers journey to reach home, and long did they travel what great deeds were once done by him in the All-Father’s name,” came
in silent despair. Though they had slain the beast, they had not saved the Snorri’s measured response.
jarl’s child, and worse, had seen it twisted and perverted by its abductor. “Nay, twisted one. Once false, always false. His foul wyrd was set for
What’s more, they had been forced to slay the very child they had attempt- evil deeds from the day of his birth. ‘Twould have been better had his
ed to save and thus could only return to the dying jarl’s hall with the head brother let him die in the snow that first ni—“
of his foe and not the laughter of his future. The brothers lived beyond “What d’you say?” the halting, rumbling voice rolled like a rockslide
that ill-fated venture, but it is thought by many that there was a dying that from the edge of the firelight.
day within the soul of the brothers — in one perhaps more than the other. A shape clumped out of the shadows at the back of the hall. It was a
Nevertheless, the jarl was grateful for their efforts and rewarded the massive, misshapen form in a heavily brocaded tunic, three small chil-
brothers with a sea-steed. This they named it Fortune’s Glory, and Diarf dren nestled asleep in the crook of his left arm. The head from whence
called to the skalds to spread word of their deeds. Soon a crew of warriors, the voice whispered, though his whisper was just shy of a lesser man’s
all long known in the shieldwall and experienced in the spear-din, gath- shout, was lost in the smoke and darkness near the rafters. With a groaning
ered. These men and women swore oaths to Diarf and pledged to him as of floorboards and a creaking of leather, the monstrous form bent down,
to a ring-giver, though he had no hall. With these — his huscarls of a sort bringing its savagely gnarled head into the light, one eye bright and the
— and his brother, Diarf took to the whale-road once again. crystalline blue of a winter sky and the other the old scarring of a gouged
While upon the whale-road it was they who drove away a raid by the and empty socket.
Jomsvikings upon the village of Hølen, fought through blood and viscera “Sister say tuck young‘uns in. Tuck Snorri in. D’you need tucking also,
to bring aid to besieged Gats in Otkel’s Hall, and sought out the Dark Ones woman-with head-like-fish?”
who slew so many in Estenfird. Suddenly cold sober, Kadlin sat back down with a thump, “N..no, I
It was in this last venture that the brothers were finally separated, for do not. Thank you Lord Boë Skulison, Slayer of the Wyrm of Vardø and
the battle for that northernmost land was fierce and the terrain wild and Hunter of the Wolf-Beast of Alta-by-the-Sea. I…I do not.”
untamed. The hirth had been called out and defeated, and the twins were Without another word, Boë swept his young nephew Snorri up in his
fated to suffer, for after the Battle of the Lost Holding only one could be right arm, Snorri who shared something of one great uncle’s twisted frame
found. The missing brother had nearly died in the battle, taking a sore and something of his other great uncle’s way with words. Young Snorri
wound, and in desperate pleas — perhaps made in pain-filled delirium or who longed to be a great skald some day and practiced telling the old
perhaps in fear of death — managed to save its own hide only by breaking stories and singing the old songs beside the fire every night that he could
all oaths and mind’s-worth and pledging himself to the Dark Ones’ cause. until his mother bade him to bed.
The two brothers met only once more after that, for by then both had With Snorri safely secured among his siblings in his massive arms, the
taken leadership of the opposing armies. When the shieldwalls met, the giant-blooded’s shadow departed the play of the firelight on the wall like
spear-din rose to reach the heavens and the gods themselves watched as the passing memory of a legend.

32
 Player's Guide

Fadr
By Kevin Wright

GM Note
Spoiler Warning: None

“Fadr” begins in the small Hrolfland village of Byrgisvik before the story travels down the spine of the Andøvan Mountains and out into the
Plains of Storms beyond. None of these locations play any part in the Northlands Saga Adventure Path, nor do any of the characters described
appear in its pages. The story does provide some history and secrets about the Worshipers of the Wyrm, a dragon cult that haunts the Plain of
Storms and sometimes besets the folk of the Northlands, but theirs’ is a tale primarily of other parts of the Lost Lands campaign setting rather
than specifically the Northlands. Players of the Northlands Saga Adventure Path can safely read this story because knowledge of the Wyrmist
cult provides no spoilers for the Northlands themselves.

T
tumult and confusion no one noticed that, of all the women now enslaved
he Worshipers of the Wyrm fell upon by the Wyrm, only the fiery-haired woman taken from Byrgisvik did not
the village of Byrgisvik at dawn, while weep. Though her eyes were downcast, the glimmer they held was not one
the wan light of the Sun, Freyr’s sky- of grief or terror, but of anger.
candle, shone feebly over that cold
and embittered land, and carrion birds *****
punctuated the pale azure skies.
The warriors and huscarls of the Three days after the capitulation of Byrgisvik, a band of doughty young
village, strong men and women forged warriors rode into town, sunlight glinting from spear-tip and mail and
in the frosty fire of the Northlands, fell laughter brightly falling from their lips. That laughter fell slack when they
before the zealots as wheat before the saw the wreckage of the village, and stormy apprehension darkened their
scythe. Axe, spear, and blade availed cheerful hearts.
them naught in the face of the overwhelming horde. In the end, their jarl, They rode straightaway to the mead hall where their leader
Geir Bloodyhaft — a seasoned and fearsome swordsman past his prime dismounted. This was Magnus, son of Jarl Geir, a warrior just come
but still tall and hale — bent the knee before the Wyrm’s vile godi. With into the fullness of manhood. Hair glossy as polished gold flowed from
battered and bloodied hands, the jarl lifted up to his conqueror his own beneath his graven helm and covered his jutting chin in a newly grown
broken blade in token of surrender. Tears, fierce and bright, fell from his beard. He stood a head taller than his tall companions, a group of Hel-
cheeks, yet none of his people looked askance at this show of weakness; hounds if ever there was one. Magnus’ band had recently come from
they knew that with his surrender, he had bought their very lives. the Waldron Mountains, where they had hunted the onyx deer and fell-
As tribute, the Wyrmspawn claimed no fire-forged weapon, no golden boar. With his own hand, Magnus had slain an enormous troll that had
coin or lustrous jewel. Rather, they took that which was far more precious come upon them in the night, killing dogs and men alike with mighty
in the eyes of the Northlanders. Going from house to house and even sweeps of its sinewy arms. The fire-blackened skull of the monster now
into the sacred mead hall itself, the Wyrmspawn worshipers dragged lay bound to his leathern saddle.
forth every maiden of the village and lined them up before the Wyrm’s Magnus’ mother strode from the doorway of the hall, eyes glazed over
godi, that with lecherous eyes and probing hands he might inspect them. with sorrow. His father followed close behind. His step had slowed since
Unnaturally tall and full of stony menace, the unholy man went from girl the Wyrm’s attack, but now quickened with joy at the return of his son.
to girl, forcing them to look into his one terrible, sunken eye and the other Magnus held his weeping mother gently in his arms, taking care not
scar-sealed left eye socket and asking them questions no man should ever to give her hurt from the weapons bedecking him. Geir approached and
ask a maid. gripped his son’s arm in welcome, though pain still lingered in his blue
After lengthy and awful examination, he pointed out three of the eyes.
women: one blonde-haired, slim of waist and broad of shoulder — the “What happened here, father?” Magnus asked over his mother’s graying
very image of a shield maiden — the next raven-haired, her pale face head. “Why does grief lie so thickly upon the town?”
filled with apprehension, eyes wide with fear, and her slender body With halting tones, the jarl told his son of the coming of the Wyrm, the
wracked by sobs, and finally, a red-headed girl, her fiery mane falling devastation wrought by his worshipers and his own humiliating surrender.
in long, loose curls down her back. The godi’s callous bodyguard pulled A storm cloud fell over the young warrior’s noble features as he heard
the girls from amongst the others and roughly chained them together. the troubling tale. As his father recited unto him the names of the fallen,
The godi spoke to the horrified and silent villagers, his voice hollow Magnus looked up and interrupted.
and imperious. “These chits will slake the appetite of Snækol , Scaled “Father, your pardon, but where are my sisters? And where is Bera?”
and Serpentine Chief of the Frosthelm. Know that the rest of you live Panic rose in his voice with the last question.
at his sufferance. Each year, you will pay a levy of gold, women, and The jarl could not meet his eyes. “They were all of them taken by the
foodstuffs to your overlord. His auditors follow hard upon our heels. Wyrm. His despicable godi chose them and took them from us. They have
Resist them, and you will be expunged.” gone to the lair of Snækol.”
With that, he turned and left, his servants and his war band following Blood drained from that young warrior’s face as he heard the news,
behind. Trailing behind came a train of women, scores of them, the most and his shoulders shook with anger. His huge fists clenched and his eyes
beautiful maidens from the villages of the North. They were bound narrowed with his rage. Unnoticed, his mother stepped back from him in
together with thick shackles, all wailing at their lamentable fate. In the dismay. His sisters Ingun and Thorhild were the damsels fair-haired and

33
 The Northlands Saga Complete
dark, but she of the fiery mane was Bera, long loved by Magnus, the one mentor again, but they knew how deeply he loved his daughter and
whom he thought one day to take as his bride. touched their foreheads in acquiescence.
He turned to find his men dismounted and seeking out family and Leidolf looked at his friends, then back at the old man. “Kory, is there
friends of their own, sharing in Byrgisvik’s sorrow. “Mount up!” he said, anything else we might do for you?”
wrath burning in every stitch of his being. “No one told you to climb down “Yes, there is. Give over to me your brand and your shield. Replace
from those horses. We are going to catch up with our enemies and reclaim them with the weapons you find hanging above my bed.”
our own — though Hel herself bar the way! Mount up!” “Yes, drengr. What are you going to do?”
The people of Byrgisvik hurriedly shoved food and drink toward their The elder turned the blade over in his hand, testing its grip in his fist. “I
young men as they remounted, gathering what quick embraces and kisses am going to have words with the jarl.”
as they could, then rode in a furious tempest of hooves and high-spirited The young men hurried off to obey, their spirits kindled with the idea of
cries toward danger. vengeance and new adventure. The old man, known as Kory the Sleepy,
turned and made his way toward the jarl’s mead hall. The dock had cleared
***** off, the folk headed home, seeking comfort from their families. They skies
were smudged with the smoke of funeral pyres. The only remaining family
On the day after the departure of the young men, a long-awaited ship sailed Kory had was in chains and was being led to her death. That thought
smoothly into the little bay near the village. She was no longship decked out burned within him as he made his way through the village.
for war, but was deeper-keeled, a true ocean-going vessel. She was called the Kory walked into the mead hall, stopping to let his eyes adjust to the
Eye of Munin, and her voyage had been one of exploration and trade to the darkness within. A fire pit lay in the center of the hall, its greasy smoke
warmer Southlander nations. The Eye had brought back with her a wealth rising toward a hole in the ceiling. Several folk sat around the heavy
of exotic spices, rare silks and linens, and precious wines, as well as a small oaken tables that lined the walls. Exquisitely woven tapestries, imported
variety of the southern comforts peculiar to those softer lands. from the Southlander duchy of Monrovia, hung from the rafters, crimson
The sailors aboard her leaped from her salt-rimed bow onto the worn and gold scenes of victorious battles and great hunts rendered in richly
docks, overjoyed at their homecoming. Unfortunately, the glad welcome died wool. On a carven seat on a dais at the far end of the hall sat Geir
they expected was not to be. Their friends and families greeted them with Bloodyhaft. His wife sat by his side in a smaller chair. A handful of people
bowed heads and wounded eyes, clad in the ashen wrappings of mourning. — obviously in distress — stood before the jarl, and he leaned toward
They recounted the sad tale of Byrgisvik’s defeat, and the sailor’s light them in commiseration. Kory strode toward him, ignoring the greetings
and buoyed spirits congealed into leaden horror. of the people he passed.
The last man off the ship was decades older than his shipmates, his short When he drew near to the dais, the jarl noticed him and rose from his seat.
hair and beard silvered by time and experience. Laugh-wrinkles splintered “Kory! Thrice welcome you are. You have come home to heartache,
the edges of the deep-set eyes that scanned the crowd for someone in but your homecoming is treasured nonetheless. Come, take drink with me
particular. As a wounded huscarl told him of the tragedy in somber tones, that our shared anguish might be halved.”
the old man’s face grew grim. He looked through the crowd again and The people in front of the dais rose, bowed to the jarl and left the hall.
asked the man, “Ærinmund Slodesson, I thank you for bringing me these “Drink?” Kory asked. “What drink could assuage this burning in my
tidings, but tell me: where is my daughter?” heart? Could even the honeyed mead of Asgard chool my ire? Nay, I’ll
Ærinmund’s face grew dark. not drink with you, Geir the Faithless.”
“They have taken her, Kory…taken her to the Wyrm. I am sorry,” he The jarl froze, taken aback by the sudden viciousness. He had descended
said and bowed his head in respect. to embrace his fellow Hrolflander but stopped cold in his tracks.
The old man made no reply to the huscarl; he merely clasped his arm “What… What words do you speak, Kory? Know you not that my
tightly. Then he called, “Kollsvein! Leidolf! Hælgi! To me!” Three of daughters and your own Bera have been taken by the agents of Snækol the
the young sailors broke off their conversations and moved quickly to his Foul? We are brothers in grief, my friend!”
side. In their voyage with the old man, they had learned wisdom at his “I know what happened to my daughter,” said the man, always renowned
weathered hand and, finding in him mettle they had never known, had for his quiet ways. “And I know the one responsible for her fate. When I
each pledged themselves to his service. Their heads bowed low to hear came to live here, we swore that we would serve you and that you would
their elder’s words. defend us…even at the cost your own life! When I left on my sojourn,
“Here, take this money,” he said and handed to each of them a bag I entrusted my precious Bera into your care — fool that I was! And you
of southern coins. “Go immediately to my home. Saddle all four of my failed me, Geir. Worse — infinitely worse — you failed my daughter.”
horses and provision them for a long journey. Take you each one of those Tall Geir stood still as an image in stone. “Kory, many of our folk were
horses and do as I bid you. Kollsvein, go quickly to the spear-gathering killed in battle. I myself was grievously wounded. All that could be done
at Trotheim. Seek there a shield maiden by the name of Thorballa to protect Bera was done! Ever have you been a good hirthmann to me,
Hallasdottir. She shouldn’t be hard to find. Say unto her, ‘Ashild’s and I know that it is only your broken heart speaking, but I’ll not have any
daughter is in danger. Fly with all haste to Hrapptoft.’” man call me faithless.”
“Leidolf,” the elder continued. “Travel with all speed to a village called “Ha!” the old man laughed, the sound hard and pitiless. “All that could
Skøro at the feet of the Andøvan Mountains. Ask around for a cunning be done was done, you say? Then why lies not your body upon the bier?
woman called Thorkatla Whitehand. Show her all proper respect, then ‘Faithless’, you say, as if that is the direst insult. Do you think that’s the
whisper in her ear, ‘Bera needs you. Go to Hrapp’s place.’” worst I’ll call you? No and no. I name you coward. Geir Bloodyhaft, I
“Yes, drengr,” the lad replied. name you níðingr.”
“And Hælgi,” the man continued. “You must brave the dangers of The people had gathered around the two men, and they gasped at
Skuldswamp. Waste no time, but be careful! In the swamp, you will soon Kory’s words.
find a black squirrel. Say to it — yes, I know it sounds foolish! — yet say The jarl spoke and anger bloodied each syllable.
to it, ‘take me to Hel’s handmaiden’, then follow it closely. It will lead you “Your words are tripe, you weather-beaten old sack. I’ll prove my valor
to a woman. She will frighten you like no other beast or nightmare ever on your body.” He called to the crowd, “Arrange for the holmgang!” The
has; don’t kick yourself for it, it’s not your fault. Ask not her name and do crowd moved to obey, but Kory spoke first.
your best not to stare at her. Say merely, ‘The one born in sorrow has dire “Hel take your holmgang,” Kory the Sleepy spat. “I hold sword and
need of you. You know where to go,’ then get you out of there as if Ymir shield at the ready. Nothing stands between us but air and opportunity.
himself chased you.” Come and die.”
The old man sighed. “When you have done these things, your debt to Longsword and shield were brought and placed in the jarl’s strong
me will be repaid tenfold with my blessings and thanks. Keep the coins hands. Though recently wounded, everyone thought to see Kory die at the
and horses and live rich lives. Marry well and have many children. You first pass. Geir towered over the silver-haired man and he was the younger
will not see me again.” by almost twenty years. As soon as the jarl armed himself and stepped
The young men were distraught at the idea of never seeing their revered down from the dais, Kory moved swiftly to the attack.

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Geir launched a heavy, downward blow, hoping to quickly beat down fair of skin, clad in a long dress of the deepest cobalt. A coquettish smile
his opponent, but before his blade could fall, the older man slipped close graced her flawless face…until Kory blinked. She now appeared as busty
with lightning speed, caught the blow on his shield and slashed merciless mead-wench, straw-blonde curls bouncing on her head, silently laughing
steel through the jarl’s shin bone. With a cry, the jarl fell to one side, losing at a joke only she had heard. This was Thorkatla, cunning woman and
his grip on his shield. Kory then battered the longsword aside with his sage. Her mazy mind had led her unto paths seldom traveled by the sane,
own brand and punched the half-kneeling jarl in the nose with the rawhide and she had not returned unchanged. Her aspect was never the same from
rim of his shield. Blood sprayed as the big man toppled over. one moment to the next, ever shifting, ever changing, but whatever form
The Sleepy placed his foot on Geir’s chest and thrust his sword into the she took was always enthralling. Kory nodded to her, the briefest smile
larger man’s throat. He was dead within eight heartbeats. It was a more touching his lips. She nodded back, her eyes sad behind her laughing face.
merciful death than Kory felt like giving him, but he was not one who Lastly, to his right sat the strangest figure of all. It was a woman passing
enjoyed the sufferings of other men. His wrath by no means slaked, he tall, and even seated she held herself proudly upright. Half of her body was
spun on his heel and marched from the mead hall. pitch black and the other half pearly white. This extended to the hair of
“Everyone clear out of Byrgisvik. Load up your families and your her brows and lashes, though her head was bald as an egg. Even her eyes
households, and get yourselves gone.” followed the pattern, the right eye stark white and left a lustrous black. She
“Why, Kory?” one villager dared to quietly ask. “Why do we gather our was a godi of the goddess Hel and Hel-touched she was. Yet for all her strange
families and our things?” appearance, she was every bit as alluring as her companions. “Sæunn,” Kory
Never breaking stride as he exited the otherwise silent hall, Kory said, said in salutation. “Kory,” the godi answered, no love warming the word.
“Because if I return, I’m going to burn it to the ground.” There was enough beauty seated at the table to stun any man to awed
silence, but Kory seemed immune to it. After all, they were his sisters-
***** in-law. For years tragically shortened, he’d been married to their sister
Ashild, in his eyes, the fairest of them all. But she’d died in childbirth,
Things hadn’t worked out as Magnus had planned. He’d envisioned bringing Bera into the world.
himself catching up to the ranks of the Wyrmspawn, forming up a Kory took his seat, then looked behind Thorkatla (now a winsome,
shieldwall with his brethren and routing his foes utterly. Bera would see innocent-faced maiden) and spoke to the figure standing there.
his glorious victory and come running to his blood-soaked arms, flame- “Hælgi! What’s wrong with you, lad? You look as if you’d seen a ghost?”
hair flying behind her. They’d return home in triumph and be married in The poor young man was so far out of his depth he felt as if he was
riotous celebration, the villagers casting snow-flowers at their feet. drowning. First, he was sent on a mission by a respected elder only to
Instead, he and his band had taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended meet the oddest, most handsome woman he’d ever seen in his life, and
up wading for three days through some dank marshes, slapping mosquitos now that elder was so changed he was nearly unrecognizable. Gone was
and cursing their luck. Coming out of the bog lands, they’d stumbled upon the humble old hirthmann of a small seaside Hrolfland village. Now, Kory
a stink of ogres just as the forest of Hrolfland gave way to the slopes of the was dressed as a man of war – and such a man of war! His steel helm
Andøvan and fought a pitched battle under bleak, overcast skies. Magnus was chased in gold and a hauberk clinked under his richly decorated blue-
and his men had emerged triumphant, but they found no treasure on the gray kaftan. Gold gleamed on the longsword’s hilt at his side and crimson
rank corpses and many of them now bore debilitating wounds that only jewels ornamented the brand’s scabbard. Moreover, a fell and joyous
slowed them further. strength seem to lay upon him, and he seemed twenty years younger than
They were sourly demoralized as they crossed the hidden trails of the when last they’d met. Those oft-downcast, thoughtful eyes now lit with a
mountains by the time the Wyrm’s scouting patrol found them, but they rose bright and steely resolve.
to the occasion, banging blade on shield, shouting insults and their war-cries “But what do you here?” Kory said. “I thought I told you to escape the
and courageously engaged the foe. It availed them naught, as more patrols Skuldswamp as quickly as you were able. I did not think to see you in
arrived and they found themselves outnumbered four to one. The majority lonely Hrapptoft.”
of the band were slain outright, but three survived the slaughter and were Stout Hælgi was more whey-faced than was his wont. “I tried drengr,
shackled and shorn like proper thralls. One of those new-made thralls was but she…she wouldn’t let me. She made a mule of me to carry her
Magnus, and his hero’s heart couldn’t decide if it were more outraged at his baggage.” And he dared to turn his eyes ever so slightly toward Sæunn.
defeat or surprised at the unexpected turn of events. She sipped her mead and shrugged her slim shoulders.
Kory grinned for the first time in days. It felt stiff and unwelcome on his
***** face. “Aye, the daughters of Halla can be difficult to refuse. I can testify
to that myself.”
Kory kicked open the thick, ornately-carved door to the hunting lodge “You look terrible, Kory. The years have been unkind to you,” the godi
and stepped inside, shaking the snow off of his cloak and stamping ice of Hel said, a sneer in her voice.
from his boots. Night had fallen darkly an hour past, and harsh cold had The white-haired man met her gaze evenly. This was an old feud, staid and
seeped into his tired bones. He’d ridden long and hard since slaying Geir, practiced, made no less ugly by its longevity. Kory had not the time for it.
running hard errands of his own before coming to Hrapptoft. He cleared his throat and looked from one woman to another. “Know
He cast off his frigid mantle, propped a long, ash-wood box against you what happened to your niece?”
the doorframe and looked up to see a circular table in the center of the “Yes, Kory. We heard,” said Thorballa. “And worse news could scarce
lodge, lit with many candles. In that pool of light sat three strange women, be imagined.” Her eyes were unreadable.
looking at him with expressions dour, wry, and expectant, respectively. “The Wyrm’s Get have been filling the Northlands with their stench for
Another form hovered in the shadows behind them. Kory took off his too long, growing in might and number. I hate them. I have long thought
helm, shook the ice droplets from his short beard and approached them. it was time and past time to crush them under heel.” This from Thorkatla,
A more peculiar gathering of ladies could scarcely be imagined. On Kory’s now a fetching huntress, geared for the hunt and black of hair and eye.
left sat the largest woman he’d ever seen. Having doffed her armor, she was The harsh words seemed out of place coming from such tenderly kissable
clad in a cream-colored padded tunic that stank of sweat and old blood, and lips, Hælgi thought.
bulging muscles in her shoulders and arms threatened to tear through the Sæunn spoke. “I always had deep misgivings, Kory, about leaving our Bera
fabric of her garb. Her cheek-bones were high and wide-set and her eyes were with you. And now those misgivings have been proven right. ‘Twas only your
a dazzling blue. Half of her head was shaved to reveal a sword-shaped tattoo gæfa that helped you win the love and hand of our dear sister, Ashild: it was
on her tanned skin, but the rest of her hair fell in a heavy braid of gold and luck, nothing more. She was foolish for loving you. I never knew what value
silver down her back. This was Thorballa, Shield Maiden of the High Seat. she found in you. No male has any business raising one of Halla’s breed,
She was a jaw-dropping beauty, and she knew it but cared not. Kory drew anyway. One of your ilk could never hope to understand one of us.”
his sword and touched the blade to his brow in greeting, and she touched her “Enough of that,” said Thorballa. Her voice was a pleasing contralto.
forehead in return, never taking her eyes from his. “That was decided long ago by the four of us and a good decision it was.
The woman sitting on the far side of the table was a slender brunette, Knowing the wyrd that lay upon her, she had to be raised in obscurity,

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hidden from those malevolent eyes that yet seek her. Kory was the only rejoiced that the end of his journey was drawing nigh. He’d had more luck
one able and — let us say it — willing to give her the anonymity and than Magnus in finding Bera, and he managed to keep an eye on her, far
shelter she needed. Also,” she said, looking at Kory, “I’ve never seen man ahead of him, as they walked out of the mountains. For the entire journey,
love daughter as I saw you love that little girl.” he mentally repeated Kory’s plan to himself as he walked.
Kory looked from one woman to the other. “I’ll not deny that I was
unworthy of your sister. Nothing but the gods’ own luck, as you say. And *****
I’ll not deny that I could never understand one of you. I never understood
your sister; I just counted myself blessed to be in her presence. But, as Kory and Thorballa stood on high ground watching the approach of
Thorballa said, Bera needed to lie low until her time came. Now, I fear her those who sullied themselves before Snækol. The coming cultists filled
time may never come.” Despair darkened his face as the worry and fear the land before a small plateau at the foot of the eastern mountains, a
for his only daughter threatened to overwhelm him. teeming mass of degraded humanity.
Thorkatla’s voice cut through his misery. “So, Favored of Ashild. What “There are quite a few of them,” Thorballa observed, her pleasant voice
is your plan? Shall we meet and decimate the Worshipers of the Wyrm? I warming the chill air.
think that may be a bit beyond our abilities.” “Yes.” He scanned the ranks of the Wyrmists carefully, hoping against
Kory shook himself “We shall meet them alright, on the Plain of hope to see Bera somewhere among them. The vanguard was even
Storms. Hælgi!” now riding up the steeply sloping sides of the plateau, the leader of the
“Yes, Kory?” Worshipers surely there among them.
“Are you willing to bear another message? This task may be more “I’d say at least three thousand spears,” Thorballa said.
dangerous than your last one.” “Yes.”
“More dangerous?” he said, glancing at Hel’s godi. “If so say so, “I do not think we could’ve slain them all,” she said.
drengr. I am at your disposal.” “No.”
“Excellent. To answer your question, Thorkatla: yes, we shall meet with “I’m glad you had another plan.”
the enemy, but not to engage in battle. I don’t mean to kill them. I mean “Yes.”
to kill their god.” “Although, as far as plans go, this one’s a bit…suicidal.”
Thorballa gestured toward the oblong box by the door. “Is that what I “Yes.”
think it is?” “If we come out of this alive, I’m going to marry you.”
Kory just gave a frosty smiled and nodded his head. “Yes…what?” Kory said, turning toward the shield maiden, utter
astonishment etched itself on his weathered face.
***** A horn blew just then, proclaiming the coming of the godi and sparing
Kory the need for coherent response; not that he would’ve been capable
For long, miserable days, Magnus journeyed with the Worshipers of of that. He stared at Thorballa open-mouthed in complete befuddlement
the Wyrm. All day, he walked stolidly in heavy iron shackles. At night, he while she calmly watched the ascending Wyrmists.
did their bidding: carrying water, digging waste trenchess, currying their Four huge men — giant-blooded for sure — rode up to the pair on
horses — anything he was told. He’d tried to fight them, to defy them, the massive destriers. Clad in dark furs and heavy, dark-stained mail, they
first couple of days, but they soon broke him of that in ways he shuddered brandished naked axes as they took position surrounding the two. Behind
to remember. But always, he kept a weather-eye out for Bera, hoping to them, the godi lurked astride an unnaturally pale horse, its hide nearly
pick her face out of the chaotic tumble of humanity around him, but he transparent in its thinness and lack of coloration — Kory fancied he could
had not seen her yet. Maybe, he thought. Maybe we can save each other… almost see its skull and skeletal structure beneath the taut-stretched flesh.
“Be you Kory the Vile, famed sneak and thief, backstabber and murderer
***** of Fair Vigdis?” one of the giants growled.
The old warrior did not deign to look up at the speaker. “Well, I am
Hælgi wasn’t doing much better. He’d carried Kory’s message faithfully, Kory, and Vigdis is dead. Those other bits might be contested, though.”
exactly as he’d been told. He’d walked right up to their encampment and One of the warhorses blew its moist breath onto the shield maiden’s
announced himself. “I speak for Kory Vidgisbane,” he’d said. “Take me muscular neck.
to your godi.” After that, it took several hours of arguing with one group “Keep your mutt away from me,” she said, “or I’ll swat it.”
of officials or another before he finally stood before their imposing priest. “And you keep your tongue leashed, wench, or I’ll saw it from your
By that time, the brave young man had been battered and beaten and every head!” the destrier’s master cried.
cranny of his person thoroughly searched for weapon or poison. They had Almost laconically, her arm swung around, her massive war-axe
taken from him the wooden box Kory had entrusted to him and laid it somehow already in hand. The blade bit deeply into the upper foreleg of
before their godi’s feet. the beast, and it went down screaming. Its shrill neighs were soon joined by
With the polished toe of his stolen boot, the Wyrm’s godi pushed open the screams of pain from its rider as the heavy mount collapsed sideways,
its lid and stared down at its contents. Stony silence fell on all those trapping his leg beneath it with a sharp crack that clearly emanated from
around. The priest’s lips whitened as he spoke. his own thigh. The shield maiden calmly grabbed him by shoulder and
“Who did you say sent you?” cranium and twisted his head ‘til she heard a second sharp crack. She
“Kory, Slayer of Vigdis. He says he’s going to join you at your Feast of released the suddenly silent rider, and he fell boneless to the frozen earth.
Scales and put an end to Snækol’s worthless life.” The old warrior had his sword out, menacing the other horsemen.
The priest’s breath sucked inward at this proclamation. “Get you back to that cur you call a master. I would have words with
“I had not thought that Kory the Vile still lived, though countless times him quickly; I’ve no time to waste on his goat-licking lackeys.”
have we burned the branch and called down curses on his name. He will The priest of Snækol rode up before any more of his men could be slain.
be most welcome at the Feast of Scales, whereat the mate of poor Vigdis “Ho, there, Kory son of Knute. Long have I desired to meet you.”
may wreak his vengeance upon the frail flesh of Man.” “That, I do not doubt,” the old warrior spat. He looked around. “So, this
He looked up and Hælgi saw that his one pupil was a black serpentine is where you feed the Wyrm? You’d think, fat as he is, that he could find
slit splicing an amber circle. It was disquieting, to say the least. his own meat.”
The godi stared for long moments at the young warrior. “Speak not of your betters, Meat-for-Ravens! Snækol soon arises and
“Take him away,” he hissed. “Do with him as you will.” you will learn humility at his coming. His hatred burns deeply for the one
Hælgi refused to wince at these words, though he anticipated torture. who slew his mate. An unchecked force of malignance now seeks you out.
Luckily, he only had to endure a spirited flogging before he was chained You were a fool to reveal yourself.”
alongside other downtrodden souls and led away. “Fool I may be, but I have a proposal for you, Slave of Worms. I will meet
For days they traveled, ever southward, down from the cold of the secret with Snækol on this very plateau. If he slays me, my friend here will ensure
ancient ways of the Andøvan highlands and onto a wide grassy plain. Hoar- that you know where to find Freyja’s Pomegranate, the most coveted jewel
frost glittered on the expanse as far as they eye could see, a dazzling silver taken from Vigdis’ hoard. If I slay him, you and your minions,” he said,
ocean under a cold sun. Hælgi recognized it: the Plain of Storms, and he waving vaguely toward the army of worshipers and their captives, “shall

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become my slaves to do with as I choose. What say you?” and gave it the same fate as its master, the second fixed its gaze firmly on
The godi sat quietly, unmoving as stone, then he barked a queer, icy laugh the pair upon the plateau. Barely pausing to swallow the thrashing mount,
and said, “That’s it? You journeyed all this way with this in mind? I called the tor linnorm coursed swiftly over the sloped ground, straight toward
you ‘fool’ but you are more than fool. O Foolish Man, you have come to the butte where the two warriors waited, its heated body leaving a trail of
the Plain of Storms to die! You have no hope — none! — of surviving an steam and scorched grass as it crossed the frozen ground. In no time, it
encounter with the Chief of Frosthelm. Especially since you gifted unto was digging its claws into the rock and quickly ascending the steep slope.
me your greatest weapon. But, if death is your wish, then I accept your It pulled its bulk over the edge, bared its dripping fangs, and faced the two
proposal. My only hope is that Snækol takes his time with you.” heroes, hot slaver puddling at their feet.
He turned his tall, unearthly horse and rode back toward his followers, “Hello, old lizard,” the warrior said calmly.
the now-reduced giant-blooded in tow. Yelling over his shoulder, he said, It reared back both its great heads and vomited a torrent of flaming ash
“I go to summon the Wyrm!” on them. A cloud of smoke engulfed the plateau, obscuring it from sight.
The pair were alone again under the blue sky, save for the thrashing The dragon threw itself into cloud, ripping, tearing, and biting with its
of the wounded horse, though even that slowed and stopped as it poured poisonous teeth, not waiting for the smoke to clear.
the last of its life’s blood onto the frozen grass from its near-severed leg. When the steady cold breeze off the plains below finally cleared the
Its formerly glib rider was likewise motionless and long past concern, a air, Snækol looked, but could not find the bodies of his prey. Only the
rapidly cooling heap atop the dying horse. steaming remains of two slushy piles of ice stood where the pair had been,
Kory couldn’t say what made him more nervous: the impending quickly evaporating in the suddenly super-heated air.
battle with an enormous, lethal serpent or being alone with the beautiful “Now!” cried Kory from his concealed location on the nearby
Thorballa. For her part, she seemed as tranquil as a clear mountain lake. mountainside where he and Thorballa had stood in conversation all along.
She hummed contentedly. Thorkatla’s simulacrums of the pair left standing on the plateau had
“So…what was that about…?” he began timidly. worked; the serpent had and his servants had been fooled by the magic.
“Leave it ‘til after,” she said, smiling at nothing in particular. Kory and Thorballa had never stood before their foes on the now-wasted
“Alright,” he said, a little abashed. butte, only magically created constructs that possessed but a portion of
A roar spawned from the guts of Helheim splintered the stillness. Like a their wit and skills had stood on their place to trade barbs and blows.
thousand panes of glass breaking at once, the ice frozen on countless blades At his shout, Sæunn, who crouched in concealment on the mountainside
of grass shattered at the roar, adding to the tumult of the war-bellow of Snækol not far away flew on invisible wings to the dragon. Swooping low, she laid
the Scaled. His followers — all the thousands of them — fell to their knees in a hand upon Snækol’s steaming hide, almost a caress. Kory grimaced as
the shriek of the linnorm assaulted his ears even from this distance. The
terror before then leaping up and crying and shouting in near ecstasy.
fire-lit seams along its back darkened as Death itself envenomed them.
From the broken and jagged flanks of the eastern mountains snaked a
The linnorm roared in agony, scoring the earth with its adamantine talons.
colossal serpentine beast, its body splitting into two long necks, each ending
From her hiding place at the base of the plateau, Thorkatla spoke arcane
in the head of a foul linnorm. Where the necks separated from each other,
words, weaving her hands bizarre gestures. She was a redhead now, and
four powerful arms extended from the tortuous body, their iron claws
had been all day. Kory supposed it was in honor of Bera, or possibly,
crushing the basalt of the mountainside beneath them as if it was the softest
Bera’s deceased mother. A gigantic polar bear appeared on the plateau, a
gypsum. Its entire length was plated in blackened gray scales that resembled reckless force of nature clothed in blinding white fur. It charged Snækol
unrefined iron, and from the crevice between each plate came a hellish glow, and raked its throat with heavy paws, but they seemed to have no effect.
giving clue to the live magma that coursed within the beast’s veins. Thorballa sprinted down towards the dragon, a deadly greataxe in her
Every year this fearsome creature, the rare and mighty two-headed tor hand and murder in her eyes.
linnorm, dragged itself down, out of the mountain craters to bask in the For his part, Kory was likewise leaping down the mountainside in great,
glow of its admirers and feast on their offerings, to make puny mortals magical bounds, his feet lent wings by magical boots. “Hurguð!” he cried
tremble in its presence and to some extent balm the ache in its corrupted joyously. “To me!”
heart from the loss of its mate Vigdis decades ago. Below in the Wyrm’s camp, there was turmoil and confusion. What was
Beneath Kory’s feet, the earth shuddered at the linnorm’s charge. happening? Where was their priest? The oblong box once carried by Hælgi
By his side, even brave Thorballa felt a cold finger of fear trace a path and given to the godi burst asunder where it sat in the godi’s tent. A shining
down her spine. spike, gleaming with silver and crimson light, flew from that place to the
“I never realized how big those things are. And you killed one?” waiting hand of Kory on the plateau high above. This was Hurguð, the Piercer
Kory smiled. Now that the dragon had come, the time for doubts and of Scales, a magnificent spear forged of mithral and covered in ruby-encrusted
second-guessing was long past. runes. Those runes sang of courage in the face of any danger and of piercing
“Yes, I killed one once…long ago. It was this one’s mate. Listen to me the heart of all dragons. With her, Kory had slain the dread serpent Vigdis,
now, Thorballa, and heed my words.” He looked deep into her fair eyes. ending her reign of terror in the Northlands. But his victory came at great
“When we attack, you are not to kill this beast. No matter how hard the price, for with her death came the Curse of Boiling Blood. From that day on,
bloodlust drives you, stay your hand from the killing stroke. I must be the his body had been wracked with great pain as his blood scorched him from
one to end Snækol’s foul life.” within, and he had never again been the warrior he once was.
“Now is no time to seek glory,” Thorballa began to say before abruptly
stopping herself at the absurdity of her own words. This was Kory the *****
Sleepy, father of Bera, widower of wise Ashild. No glory-hound was he.
Kory sighed and looked back to the rushing engine of destruction. It Hælgi, seeing that his time had come, spoke the word given him by
was no more than a half-mile away. “Each linnorm bears within it the seed Thorkatla. His bonds slipped from him as if covered in grease. He cast
of a foul curse, released upon its slayer at the moment of its death. I alone them aside and made his way through the panicky crowd toward where he
must bear the venom of this malediction. I claim it as my own.” had last seen Kory’s daughter.
She looked at him in wonder, then back to the dragon. A figure rode
hastily toward it on horseback; it was the godi flying to its lord. The great *****
beast stopped and lowered its two massive heads to confer with its thrall.
The warriors saw the man prostrated before the serpent. The battle on the plateau was far from over; Snækol was hurt, but not
Whatever the godi said, the dragon didn’t take it well. One head flew up dead yet. The foul magic of the goddess Hel, worked upon him by her godi,
in anger, spouting fire and scalding ash in great clouds into the sky. The had greatly weakened him but he yet drew breath. He slashed skyward
other bent low and snapped the man up in its slavering jaws, gulping him with his burning tail and caught the godi in its fiery folds. She screamed
down into its boiling maw. as the scalding scales rent through her armor and into her flesh. Thorballa
“Well,” said Kory, “that takes care of one problem. I hope he told the advanced on the serpent, but it tore at her with a flurry of massive claws.
others the bargain he struck.” She suffered the clawing wounds, but managed to evade the dripping teeth
As the first head now snatched up the terrorized and screaming horse as they sunk into Thorkatla’s magic-wrought dire bear. Fangs from both

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heads ripping at her creation; it, being made of mere shadow-stuff like the “Oh, my love! I have walked through purest nightmare to find you —
simulacrums before, blinked silently out of existence. but find you I have! Let us away from this awful place and return home.”
“Home?” she said, absently.
***** “Yes! Home, to Byrgisvik. It will be a long journey, but fear not: I will
protect you. When we get home, we can at last be married. I know that
Hælgi dove into a swarm of screaming, panicked cultists, punching and my father will approve, regardless of your ancestry. He has told me so
biting his way through them. He looked up to find Bera choking the life himself. I will build you the grandest house in town, and…”
from one of the taskmaster’s with his own whip. “Married?” Bera said, confusion evaporating from her voice, “to you?
“Die, you cur! Die!” she screamed as her arms, slender but string, Have you suffered a head wound? Are you mad? Whatever makes you
pulled and his swollen eyes bulged from his head. think that I would ever be married to you?”
Hælgi ran to her and jerked her away from her victim. She tried to claw Poor Magnus stepped back, raising his hands imploringly. “But
at his eyes, but he batted her hands away, shouting, “Bera! It’s me, Hælgi! beloved, how can…?”
Your father, Kory…he sent me!” She shoved him backward and said, She cut him short. “Beloved? I am not your beloved, you prancing oaf.
“Hælgi? ‘Tis you? Where is my father?” The only thing you ever loved was the adoration of fools and the flowing
He grinned, his white teeth flashing through his dirty, sweat-streaked face. locks of your yellow hair. You are no man fit for me. Look!” She grabbed
“He’s up on that plateau, killing a dragon. Let’s go find him!” the chain dangling from this throat and forced him to look down at the burnt
Soberly, at the thought of what he had just said, she nodded her head ruin of her father. “That is a man! A man of courage and selflessness and
and took his hand. self-sacrifice that a worm like you could not begin to fathom.” Her voice
trembled. “And I will miss his loving presence every lonely moment of the
***** rest of my days. Only a man like that could win my hand, be he ever a faint
echo of manhood such as my father’s. But you…you...” she snarled and
Kory caught the haft of his flying silver spear and, turning her in his struck him in the face with the length of chain. “You are naught but a puffed-
hands, hurled her at the linnorm. The sun caught fire on her rosy runes up cur,” she said as she thrashed him again and again in the face, “suitable
as she described a perfect arc and drilled into one of Snækol’s sinuous for naught but whipping and blows! Get you hence, níðingr. Get you out
throats. Hurguð bit deep, and bright, hot blood flew from the wound. The of my sight!” She struck him again and he stumbled back, befuddled,
head supported by that neck screamed agony, then flopped gracelessly ashamed, and scared. He fell to the ground, tears in his eyes, then leapt to
earthward to hang limp upon its root. his feet and fled as fast as they would carry him back the way he had come.
The tail-snared godi called to her goddess and disappeared, slipping Bera glared at him angrily while her aunts looked at her in grim
into the ether. The serpent’s grasping tail clutching nothingness. approval. She collapsed once again at her father’s side. Thorballa,
Thorkatla had ascended the plateau and wove more magic, reading from Thorkatla, Sæunn, and Hælgi stood the long, silent watch over Kory’s
a scroll ancient even in the days of the Andøvan. A bolt of pure frigidity body until dawn the next dawn. When the sun broke over the horizon,
soared from her hand, striking the dragon along it side and transcribing tinting her hair with flame, the young girl stood.
a line of frost-bitten hide down its flank. Its roar thundered in agony and “My aunts, thank you for holding vigil with me. My father is honored
rage. The big shield-maiden stepped close to the burning beast, greataxe to have such noble souls guard his passing. You, too, Hælgi.” She sniffled
raised, and brought it crashing down on a massive forefoot, again and and asked, “Need we build a pyre for him?”
again, crunching through scale and bone farther with each strike. Hurguð “The dragon’s breath was a more spectacular pyre than any we could
wrenched itself out of the wound it had made and flew back to Kory’s build. Kory was the bravest person I’ve ever known, even though he was
outstretched hand. He snatched it from the air and hurled it again at his but a man.” This from Sæunn, as she stood and brushed the ash from her
foe. The razor-sharp blade again pierced Snækol’s hide, this time through clothing. “Take Bera’s hand, Thorkatla, and lead her to the home we share.
the spine below the bifurcation of its necks, and the great serpent fell Boy, attend them.” The enchanter took her arm to lead her away, but
limply to the ground with a crash. It rolled its remaining head over the before they left, Bera turned back and tore Hurguð from Snækol’s skull.
earth, crying out in anguish and rage. Thorballa advanced, greataxe in This she bore away with her, along with her heavy heart. Hælgi walked
hand, to crush the life from its throat. reverently behind them.
“Hold!” Kory called frantically. “Stay your hand, Thorballa!” The Worshipers of the Wyrm were long fled, their living idol cast down
Approaching rapidly from behind, he grasped her arm and, with before their very eyes. Some of them came to their senses in the following
surprising strength, dragged her away from the fallen linnorm. Returning, years, but most chased one foolish thing after another, filling their hearts
he stood over that remaining great reptilian head, its eye rolling in fear as with dross.
it worked its jaws in an attempt to speak or bite. Kory steadied the spear For a time, the godi and the shield maiden ranged throughout the camp,
— point down — in his hands. Inhaling deeply, he started his thrust…and collecting what treasures they found, any weapons that caught their fancy,
the burning eyes of the dragon gained focus, those deadly jaws yawned but ever their gaze wandered back to the place where Kory had fallen.
wide, and spat a great gout of flame and embers engulfed the old warrior. Eventually, they gathered up the plunder in a pile on the ground and
He shrieked as he was caught in that blistering firestorm, but managed to climbed back up the plateau. Sæunn called on her goddess’ aid to heal
plunge his spear through Snækol’s great eye, smashing through the bone if her sisters’ wounds. They slept for a while on the open ground, gathering
its socket and deep into its twisted brain. Man and dragon alike contorted their strength. When they woke, they spent an hour in prayer, thanking
in agony, then collapsed to the earth, two heaps of dead flesh, side by side. the gods for victory and calling down curses on all evil creatures. Finally,
At that moment, Bera and Hælgi topped the butte. The girl spied her they stood and, holding hands, looked down on Kory’s blasted remains.
fallen father and rushed to his side. She threw herself on the ground next Sæunn sighed. “Are you sure about this?”
to him and clutched his charred hand to her tear-streaked cheek. Thorballa never took her eyes off him. “Yes. Without reservation.”
“Fadr!” she cried. “Oh…my precious fadr.” She rocked back and forth, “When will we tell Bera?”
lost in her grief. “I’ll tell her when the time is right. For now a little grief will temper
Her aunts silently gathered around her. Sæunn reappeared from the ether, her spirit.”
ready to continue battle, only to find despair. Thorballa stood somberly, Hel’s priestess shook her head. “I’ll never understand what you all see
bleeding from many wounds but ignoring them entirely. Thorkatla appeared in him.”
next to them, head bowed in reverence. Hælgi stood apart, knowing his own “No, sister, you wouldn’t. You belong to Hel, Mistress of Death. And
pain, deep as it was, was nothing compared to Bera’s. For long moments, there is naught but life to well up in him. Stop wasting time, if you please.”
Sorrow held them all in her soft, unbreakable grip. And Thorballa smiled a joyous smile as Sæunn bent low and began her
At that moment, a grimy, bald-headed figure, clambered over the edge prayer.
of the plateau and ran toward the heart-stricken gathering. “Oh, Hel,” she intoned, “daughter of Loki and sister to Fenrir and
“Bera! You’re alive! Thank Baldr that I found you!” It was Magnus, Jormungandr. Mistress, heed my call! I ask that you return one to us,
shorn of all dignity, pride, and hair. He burst through the ring of mourners Dread One, from your domain of Death. Send back to us Kory Drakebane
and gathered dazed Bera into his arms. to the land of the wakeful living…”

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 Player's Guide

Tales of the Lost Lands:

Tales Pack 4
“Ten Cowards” by John Bennett....................................................Pg. 40
“The Endless Ice” by Nathan Shank.................................................Pg. 46
“The Sword of Kings” by Keven Wright........................................Pg. 50

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

Ten Cowards
By John Bennett

GM Note
Spoiler Warning: Heavy

“Ten Cowards” reveals the adventure background for NS8: The Hallburning. It reveals the actions and identities of the culprits led by Cnut
Anglison, as well as something of their motives. Players should not be allowed to read this story if you are intending to run that adventure for
them if you wish for the details of this background to remain hidden from them. However, the culprits in this crime are identified at the very
beginning of the adventure, so the players will know the general information provided here very quickly in the adventure, so it shouldn’t affect
game play to any significant degree. If you are comfortable with the players having that knowledge, then allowing your players to read this story
before playing through the adventure could actually enhance their gameplay experience as they may become more invested in the story and its
protagonists, perhaps even holding a more personal grudge against Cnut Anglison and his ilk. One possibility would be to allow the players to
read the story only after they have started the adventure and met Runa Gundrikswif. Then the contents of the story could be considered to largely
be information gleaned from talking to the widow Runa about the events that transpired therein.

T
do. The night air hung tense around them, silent except for the sound of
en figures strode through the snow, their crunching snow. These were men on a mission of deadly purpose.
outlines carved in silhouette against a The ten marched at first through a stretch of silent woodlands. Around
dark background by the faint moonlight. them stood, tall pines, as straight as spears. Cnut Anglison took the lead,
Each man held an unlit torch tightly in guiding the men along a well-trod footpath through the trees. A thin cloak
fur gloved hand. Weapons hung from covered his armored shirt of caliginous metal rings, as if suffused with
their belts along with a hollow ox horn shadows. A simple, wooden shield sat strapped to his broad back while his
holding live coals buried in ash to pre- battleaxe hung in a strap at his belt. Cnut never looked back to see if any of
serve their heat. The men strode forward the men lagged behind, or worse, stopped following him and let the night
with unwavering tread of booted feet, swallow them in anonymity. He knew they were not cowards, lacking
their faces grim with the singular focus the fortitude to complete the task before them. Cnut knew the nine others
of future violence. No one spoke or sang would do what needed to be done, knew it as well as he knew the handle
songs to accompany their march through the stark, night wilderness. All of his axe and the honeyed taste of mead drunk in victory.
thoughts were on the expectation of what was to come and what they must Cnut led the line men out of the woodlands and into frost covered

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 Player's Guide
fields. He steered them on a direct course towards their goal, no pretense Cnut. The fact that he held their mother as thrall for a debt their father
of stealth in their route. A faint breeze brought him the rank odor of Lame owed before his death only further sealed their loyalty to him. Like many
Ottí. The hobbled man stumbled at the end of the line, his twisted, spas- men their age — little more than boys play-acting at being men — they
modic leg plowing through the snow like a shovel. As ugly and stupid as a despised the weakness they saw in their mother’s sacrifice for them and
winter night is long, his skin was covered in rashes and atop his shoulders scoffed at her words of admonishment to not follow the path of Cnut An-
stood a too-small head. These unfortunate traits were matched by an even glison. Cnut allowed himself a small smile; he could not have bound them
more unfortunate odor of rank, musty sweat. That was that reason Lame more securely to his cause had he clapped them in irons. It was a grim
Ottí was ordered to stay in the back of the line, that and the fact that he irony he recognized in them; the passion and violence of youth with none
worked twice as hard to make his way through the snow as the other men of the wisdom of man. They made useful tools, and like tools were easily
with two good legs. Cnut could not afford any delays by Ottí to slow him disposed of.
in this task. He questioned why he had even brought the man at all but Watching the Skeggi brothers suspiciously was Uverd, a strange Out-
quickly remembered the reason the man was included in all his darkest lander with sallow, pock-marked skin and a thin moustache of deepest
tasks: Lame Ottí was completely and utterly loyal. He would not question black that drooped at the corners of his mouth and ended in dangling cop-
his orders and, as long as they were not too complex, he would carry them per beads. His armor and clothing were a mismatched mixture of that of
out swiftly and well. The fact that Cnut’s orders often involved the swing- the horse riders of the plains south of Storstrøm Vale and the Southlander
ing of an axe with no questions asked, made Ottí particularly suitable for soldiers of the free cities of the Buntesveldt. His mouthful of cracked and
the job at hand in Cnut’s mind. broken teeth — apparently the work of a professional torturer some years
While Lame Ottí brought up the rear, Starkathr Bloodhair and Skorrbín earlier — and the perpetual glare in his angry eyes that constantly shifted
Dankbeard moved along just behind Cnut. Starkathr, a blond, wild-eyed, about as if seeking some unseen foe named him a fugitive. Cnut had no
berserker, hefted his axe over one shoulder. His crusted beard, bathed in doubt that Unverd was not his true name and that the man was running
the blood of his past enemies, a personal ritual of his, stank horribly. The from some crime or crimes in the South. He spoke little through his man-
always man seemed to contain the coiled energy of a wolf about to spring gled mouth, which was just fine with Cnut who despised his Outlander
on its prey. Starkathr was easy for Cnut to influence — an unsheathed accent, but he was good in a fight with his stolen Mongat saber and had no
blade constantly thirsting for blood. In fact, it was more difficult keeping problem putting a knife into the kidney of a sleeping man, so Cnut found
a leash on the man than off, which is why most of Starkathr’s payment him useful.
would go towards buying enough mead to knock him into a drunken stu- Hegi Einnarrson was Cnut’s last recruit, a barrel shaped man with a
por afterwards. thick beard. Hegi could drink heavily and laugh lustily in the mead halls,
Skorrbín was altogether a different man than the mindlessly violent seemingly not possessing the dark, natures of the other men Cnut had
Starkathr. Cnut knew he could trust Skorrbín to do the job and do it well. gathered. However, Cnut knew that to put Hegi in a shieldwall with that
The two had a long history together, participating in many a raid in the massive sword of his, and he took to fighting with the same huge appetite
past. A smart man, Skorrbín possessed a keen sense for sailing and explor- he had for drinking and whoring. For Hegi, it was about the story and re-
ing unmapped coastlines, the kind of man you wanted on a long, seaborne lating his heroics to a wide-eyed crowd with all the gusto of a half-drunk
raid. Cnut knew Skorrbín had ambitions of his own — a longship with a skald. Often, these tales were spun and embellished, both to cover his dark
reaving crew that he could sail where he wanted, instead of following the deeds on the battlefield and to make Hegi’s prowess seemingly match that
orders of whatever jarl was currently paying him. of the gods themselves. And if the warrior’s eyes sometimes looked like
A little further back, Júrgan Hrothspyke marched, a spear in one hand bleak, yawning pits of despair as he drank into the small hours of the night
and a short sword on a belt tightened around a mail coat. Júrgan was a and ruminated on things best left unsaid, Cnut cared not. He was a sure
traveler, never staying in one place long and usually leaving quickly with sword on the field of battle, and had enough sense to know what to tell and
a bounty placed on his head. He had a habit of attacking at the slightest what not to tell, even when drunk. That was enough for Cnut Anglison.
provocation, usually while the person’s back was turned rather than in fair Cnut considered himself successful in gathering such a troupe, a group
combat. The label of outlaw was no stranger to Júrgan. Many times he had of men to do a task few would be able to stomach. The job of the night
stood before a jarl or Thing while a death sentence was pronounced, but required people of a certain, low moral character. While many men could
each time through luck and guile Júrgan somehow managed to escape, of- be violent, these particular men specialized in it, were particularly suited
ten leaving one or two more bodies behind. These violent tendencies and for the night’s work. Bucking the traditions and beliefs of the North, they
lack of discomfort in doing the ruthless if necessary were what attracted would not balk at doing what needed done and would see it through to the
Cnut to recruit him. Also, as a bonus, Cnut knew that many of the bounties end. He had needed men who could offer the hospitality of their hall and
on the man’s head did not specify that he be returned alive. Cnut knew that then smother a child in its sleep. He had needed men of courage who did
if it became advantageous to do so he could always collect the reward on not fear risking the label of outlaw and the danger of being hunted in every
the man himself. jarldom and town across the North. He needed these brave men.
Anwulf the Black, who stalked behind Júrgan, was named for his mood, Besides, if they did the job right, no one would be the wiser.
a grim, dark, brooding man. Like Skorrbín, Anwulf had fought alongside
Cnut many times in battles as reavers upon the North Sea and beyond. The *****
man never seemed to raise his voice, not even in challenge to an enemy.
When the shieldwalls formed and the champions hurled insults towards Skorrbín noticed it first with keen eyes trained in scanning the horizon
the enemy, Anwulf never failed to maintain his stony silence. Instead, a during the shipboard watches of the night. Ahead the moonlight faintly
grimace would crawl across his face until his dark eyes hardened like two caught the trail of lazily, curling smoke. A simple grunt from him was all
bits of iron shot. An expert spearman, Anwulf would step forward, able that needed pass between them, and and Cnut quickened the men’s pace.
to drive the point of his weapon into soft flesh no matter the strength of Hegi adjusted the harness carrying his naked greatsword on his back, the
the shieldwall before him. Like the sceadugenga and a harbinger of death, tip of the heavily notched blade almost touching the ground. Behind him,
Anwulf moved through his enemies with ease, and where he moved, they Lame Ottí hurried to keep up, one hand on his unlit torch, the other hand
died. Anwulf liked his moniker and the fear he brought to his opponents holding a large, poorly balanced axe over his shoulder, the man’s legs
more than glory, silver, or arm-rings. Fear he surely would bring tonight. moving haphazardly as he shuffled onward.
Behind Anwulf stalked the two Skeggi brothers, Otr and Ölvir, there The smell of a wood fire soon drifted over them, followed faintly by
blond hair long, shaggy, and unwashed, their first beards little more than voices raised in laughter, toasting, and song. The tension of the still night
a soft yellow down on their chins and cheeks. Unlike the others, they air that had dogged their very steps seemed to collapse under that release,
wore equipment and armor in poor repair that did not fit well. One even filled with a feeling of home and inviting the ten men to rest, raise horns
wore thick rags wrapped around his feet rather than proper boots. The of mead, and share tales of past raids and plunder. More than one ragged
two gripped their spears and tried to scowl at everyone around them at figure paused a heartbeat as the portent of what their dark errand claimed
once. They were untried in battle but desperate to prove themselves, and them. But the spell was soon broken, Cnut raised his hand in signal. Shak-
they lusted after the prosperity and power that they saw represented in ing off the moment’s hesitation, Skorrbín turned with the soft clinking of

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mail and let out a short, low whistle down the line. The men stopped their God peered into Cnut’s heart, he would see the heart of an aurochs, un-
frantic pace, and began a slower, deliberate creep forward. All was lost if broken and unafraid before even the gods themselves. Wotan needed such
the alarm was raised. men for Ragnarök; Cnut knew he would be welcomed well.
A few small huts and animal pens stood like sentries around the hall, He briefly closed his eyes, taking in the smell of the cold night air
their darkened windows and doorways watching as the men slipped past. mixed with the smoke from the mead hall, laughter and singing washing
Skorrbín took point and was joined by Anwulf and Júrgan, who crept over him. It felt…invigorating. Skorrbín noticed a small secret smile play
quietly among the huts, inspecting them for signs of life while Cnut briefly across his lips and wondered at its portent.
held the others back. Behind him, he could hear the creak of Starkathr’s Cnut Anglison, master of his own wyrd and thrall to no man or god,
crude, animal hide armor, frozen near solid by the cold night air, as the took a deep breath and opened his eyes in time to see the first torches arc
man shifted restlessly, barely controlling the blood frenzy welling up through the sky in a trail of red light and land, FTHOOM, FTHOOM,
within him. In the back, Lame Ottí short-hopped forward to regain his FTHOOM, almost gently, on the thatched roof.
precarious balance, his legs working awkwardly as he fumbled with his FTHOOM. The torches spat and hissed, as if channeling the spite of
ox horn to ensure its coal hadn’t been lost in the journey and almost the men below. FTHOOM, flames crawled out from the torches, spread-
spilling it in his inspection. ing as they ate through the damp outer layer of thatch and bit hungrily at
Satisfied that the huts were empty of watchers who might raise a cry, the old, dry layers of thatch below. FTHOOM, FTHOOM, more torch-
Skorrbín nodded to Cnut who motioned the men again moved slowly for- es joined their brethren on the roof, mingling as if dancing. FTHOOM.
ward, the sounds of merry feasting ringing in their ears with its song of Cnut tossed his own torch, targeting a section of the roof directly over the
hot, roasted meat and plentiful drink. They ducked around the remaining doors. Flames came to life in the night air, crawling outward and upwards
huts, keeping low in case any sentries stood guard outside the hall. As as they gorged themselves on a feast of tinder. Their light washed over the
they advanced Uverd paused to peel back an animal hide window cover men waiting inside, casting them in a lurid pallor and reflecting redly over
and look inside one of the huts for any possible valuable that might be the metal of their armor and weapons. The hall alight, the men rejoined
easily lifted. Hegi’s thump on his shoulder with a callous-hardened palm Cnut by the door.
encouraged the man forward again. Cnut winced and the hollow clap that The mead hall, as was customary in the North, had only one way in or
the blow made, fearful that unseen eyes or perhaps even the spirits of the out, the solid double door. The better to defend against attacks by raiders,
guardian landvaettir might have heard or given warning to the household cattle thieves, or trolls. This arrangement had long provided the North-
within, though from the noise coming from ahead, it seemed unlikely. landers with a more defensible arrangement for protecting their homes
Uverd gave Hegi a short, murderous glare before moving on. and hearths, but just as it created a bottleneck for attackers trying to gain
Cold torches gripped even more firmly, the men strode forward, their entry so too it did for defenders trying to get out. For this reason — the
footsteps now padding over well-trod ground, brushed free of the snow- mutual survival of all — the unwritten code of the North forbade the burn-
fall by the daily activities of the busy village. On the hard-frozen ground, ing of a hall with the same condemnation and revile as one who would
their footfalls hardly made a sound. Starkathr lightly spun his battleaxe break the laws of hospitality. There was no respite of forgiveness for a
between his palms in anticipation as he moved with the group. hall-burner. Such a one was to be hunted by all to the very end of his days
until dragged before a jarl or Thing to receive the just punishment for such
***** a deed. Though many a war could have been won over the years with a
hallburning, normal men of the Northlands feared the consequences too
Their destination loomed ahead; the large mead hall built of stout much to even entertain the notion — normal men, not the nine courageous
timbers and a freshly thatched roof, the home of Jarl Gundrik Arison of men that Cnut had brought with him. He and these men were not normal
Vestfelmarken, the jarldom in which they currently traveled. Thick dou- men; in his mind they were exceptional men. Men with the courage to
ble doors, expertly carved with fantastical creatures and the gods, barred break from the old ways as a means to the ends. Let Valhalla and Niflheim
entry. Smoke from the fires inside poured out of a central smoke hole in both tremble before men such as these.
the roof. Stray glimpses of firelight shone out on the cold ground from
between a few narrow gaps in some of the timbers. Inside, Cnut knew, *****
dozens of people gathered around cooking fires or sat drinking mead on
long benches, the sound of their revelry carrying outside to the ten men The roof fully ablaze, smoke would quickly be filling the mead hall,
approaching like silent shadows slipping through the night. more than could escape through the hole in the roof which was designed
Cnut approached the hall, stopping just short of the door, cocking his for cooking fires, not major conflagrations. Anwulf, Hegi, Júrgan, and
head to listen. After a few moments, satisfied that no sound of alarm came Lame Ottí flanked the doors on either side while Cnut stood in front,
from within, he raised his fist in the air, in the prepared signal to the oth- shield strapped to his arm and battleaxe at the ready. Skorrbín and Star-
ers. Quickly, the men begin sifting the ash out of the horns they carried kathr stood just behind him with the remaining men. They all could hear
to retrieve the glowing coals within, and within moments, each one held the shouts of dismay inside: fear, confusion, and outrage replaced the
a burning brand in his hand. Ottí sucked burned fingers where he had sounds of celebration from before. Those inside would see the smoke and
managed to spill his coal out on the ground and then quickly picked it up hear the flames crackling in the thatch. They would immediately know
without thinking. But his torch was now lit along with the others, even if what was happening and all that it meant. The ten men outside likewise
his abused fingers throbbed with the flicker of the burning brand he held. knew what was coming and patiently waited for it.
The men spread out on either side of their leader, taking up position as The doors swung suddenly outward, and smoke washed over the men
they spaced themselves around the front half of the mead hall. Cnut nod- arrayed around it, stinging their eyes and briefly setting them to cough-
ded to his left and then to his right. By old habit he slid his waraxe from ing as it filled the air around them. They recovered quickly, as the first
its strap and into his left hand and felt the familiar smooth wood and rough shape loomed in the doorway, a shadow within the gray, choking cloud of
wrapping of its handle. He strode up to the door, Lame Ottí and Starkathr smoke. This would be one of the jarl’s mightiest huscarls, his elite war-
flanking him, and there he paused. riors. The man’s job was simple: break a hole in the enemies ranks so the
Cnut leaned his head back, taking in the view of the flawless sky of the people trapped in the hall could escape. This was the only way out and the
winter night and the brilliant stars it displayed. Were the gods watching? only option available to those inside.
Could they even now see the courage that it took to do what he now did? The warrior stumbled forward, his eyes trying to adjust in the smoke
Any common criminal could steal from a man or slay him. But only those and sudden of the night darkness and focus on the foes he knew would
with a heart bold as thunderous Donar would dare do so in a way that be lying in wait. He had had no time to don armor but carried a round
risked the ire of all people everywhere. He shrugged. He was satisfied; wooden shield with iron boss and a short sword for close quarter fighting.
let Wotan judge him for his deeds, for he surely would. On whatever day The huscarl squinted, eyes running from the sharp smoke, and took a step
Cnut fell, he knew it was his wyrd to do so with axe in hand so that the forward, shield and sword held defensively. He played for time, waiting
valkyries would bring him to Valhalla to stand before the All-Father. Let for the enemy to strike and show his position, so he could make his coun-
lesser men quail before the laws of Things and jarls, when the One-Eyed terattack. The other huscarls were assembling behind him, but he would

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 Player's Guide
be first and bring glory to his name. The skalds would sing of his heroics up at his fellows in hopeless appraisal of their struggle. Even the gods had
around warm hearth fires. turned away from Jarl Gundrik in his most desperate hour.
A pain blossomed in the warrior’s side before he could even step
out of the doorway, as a spear slid easily into his flank, just below his *****
ribs. Before he could roar in pain, from his other flank a greatsword,
thrust and tore into his upper calf, hitting bone. Smoke clogged his The heat inside the mead hall felt like the furnaces of the Dvergar where
throat as he gagged and stumbled. The sounds of chaos behind him the forged weapons of legend from the very fires of the earth. Smoke filled
seemed to ring louder in his ears then even his suddenly pounding the entirety of the central hall causing those inside to resemble ghosts,
pulse, spurring him on despite the pain. He must, he knew, clear the perhaps an omen of the wyrd that the Norns had laid for them. The fire,
doorway and take the battle to the enemy to give his people a fighting started on the roof, was now eating its way downward, slithering along
chance. With a sudden surge, he lunged forward. His vision cleared the rafters and climbing down walls. The crackle and hiss of the flames
just in time to see Cnut’s advance. A battleaxe seemed to hang in and the ear-splitting pop of splintering wood, promised death as surely as
the air, edge-on, electricity curling around its blade, and then it de- the monsters waiting outside in the darkness. Rich tapestries hung on the
scended with a whistling cut. Before the injured warrior could raise walls to ward against cold drafts burst into fire, shriveling to ash as they
his shield, the axe carved downward into his throat and through, into fell on those trapped within the hall.
his breastbone. The arcs of electricity humming on the blade’s edge While the huscarls fought and died to try and allow the others to escape,
leapt off, coursing through his body setting his nerves alight in the others ran about consumed by a madness brought on by panic, smoke
spasmodic twitching of his entire body. inhalation, and rapidly spreading flames. Some clawed and scratched at
The huscarl died before he even hit the ground, falling backwards into the wooden walls as if the stout timbers would give way, charring their
the doorway. His lifeless, still-twitching, body landed at the feet of his hands on the intense heat radiating off of them. As burning thatch rained
comrades behind him. Motes of electricity still crackled around the black- down around them, others sought shelter by hiding under the long feasting
ened edges of his horrific wound. A moment of stillness froze the terrible tables as if the flames working their way down the walls would not be able
scene, the cries of the jarl’s family and guests momentarily silenced in to find them. The screaming of the doomed within and the dying cries of
their frantic for escape from the burning death trap. The sudden ending the huscarls without echoed inside while the fire roared louder as if in
of the jarl’s most valiant warrior gave even their own struggle for life competition with the noise of the helpless folk.
pause…but only for a single breath. One older man crawled along the floor, trying to stay under the smoke,
The remaining huscarls readied themselves to burst out through the searching for a way out, maybe in the back, though it was pointless — one
doorway, and the ten outside waited, their weapons steaming with the first way in, one way out — the way Northlander halls had been built for cen-
blood. The huscarls knew failure meant the death of not just themselves turies. Coughing, vision blurring, he moved past bodies of those who had
and their jarl, but for everyone in the mead hall — their wives, their chil- already succumbed to the heat and smoke, easily as deadly as the murderers’
dren, their servants. The entire village of Vestfellmarken was present in steel blades. He searched frantically for someone…who? It was too hard to
the hall this night for the jarl’s name-day feast. Whoever these foul hall- think with the screaming all around him. Or was it he who was screaming?
burners were, they knew the jarl and his ways. They knew this attack had His mind muddled by smoke and fear, he could only move forward, his
to be personal and that the men outside were not here to take thralls or clothes stained with ash and falling embers. He clambered over a woman’s
plunder. They knew that their only goal was murder and that unless they fallen body, her lifeless eyes locking briefly with his. Was this who he was
fought a path free, that goal would be fully realized. looking for? She seemed familiar… Grasping her hand, he half-dragged,
Stumbling through the smoke, another huscarl hurled himself for- half-pulled her along behind him as he pushed slowly forward.
ward, leaping over the body of his slain brother-in-arms, swinging his His grip began to loosen on the woman’s hand and he looked back at
greataxe in rage, his fury lending him strength. He cleared the door- her, again into those cold, staring eyes as if remembrance could bring
way, coming down with an overhead chop deflected by Cnut’s shield salvation from this nightmare. With a thud, he pushed up against a wall,
with a splintering of wood. Cnut’s shield arm momentarily paralyzed though what wall he could not tell. By now, there was too much smoke to
by the ferocious blow, he hopped back, and the deflected swing struck see anything in front of him. He could have gone in circles for all he knew.
the shoulder of Otr Skeggi who cried out at the sudden pain. Lame Ottí He pushed up against the wall again, trying to will it give way beneath
stepped in, nimbly for one so graceless, wielding a greataxe the size of a his strength as the heat smothered him. But Northlander halls are built to
small man. Ottí batted away the huscarl’s next blow as if the other man withstand the blows of giants, their timbers carefully chosen for strength
were a petulant child swinging a stick. His own axe head found purchase and thickness. There was no escape here. Weak, dizzy, and nauseated he
across the haft of the huscarl’s axe, and the warrior cried out as three of leaned back against the unyielding wall, scanning the fiery gloom once
his fingers flew free and his grip slipped on the wooden handle. With a more for the woman…one more time, trying to remember her. Was she
guttural noise, Ottí pressed the advantage, striking again and again in a his wife? His daughter? His air-starved mind struggled to remember. One
mindless fury until the huscarl slumped forward, dead, with his remain- more time he looked…before the darkness claimed him.
ing numbed fingers still wrapped around his shattered weapon — the
hope of all Northlander warriors in death. At least he would have the *****
chance to see Valhalla.
The next huscarl quickly took his fallen comrade’s place, catching the The huscarls all lay dead in and around the doorway, and the last few
shaft of Anwulf’s spear with a free hand while his own broad sword par- householders still capable of bearing arms continued the fight, though the
ried Hegi’s greatsword. Júrgan leaned in hard, the point of his short spear slaughter had slowed. Enough bodies clogged the doorway to make it diffi-
stabbing the desperate man through the shoulder. Taking the opportunity cult for both the men outside as well as in to get at each other. Bodies were
with the huscarl off balance, Uverd maneuvered around beside the war- pulled away on both sides of the doorway as they fell, making room for
rior. His short saber flashed like in a blur as he struck fast, targeting vi- more but it was getting difficult to find places to put them out of the way.
tal spots in a quick succession of pinpointed strikes. The huscarl quickly Despite their skill at arms, the huscarls had been unable to penetrate the
joined his fellows, though this time, sword fell from lifeless fingers. No half-ring men that awaited them. The last remaining householders fared
valkyries would greet him. no better. The heat made them swoon, made their legs sluggish, and their
The ten attackers fought in tandem, creating a choke point. None could sword and axe swings clumsy. These householders — hirthmenn all who
deny the bravery of the huscarls as they fought to escape, but what choice had faced raids by giants and worse things from the mountains over the
did they have? Only a pair of the doomed warriors could fit through the years — these men now flailed like feeble old men rather than experienced
doorway at a time and each of those times, they were met with a wall of warriors, only the strongest amongst them able to hold onto their weapons
steel, striking from all directions. It did not matter what strategy the huscarls as they died. As each one fell someone, whether friend or foe, would drag
employed; every time one of them stepped through into the doorway, he the body aside so the killing could continue.
faced certain death. Yet still they tried and the men outside cut them down
like wheat before the scythe, their bodies stacking in the doorway like fallen *****
sheaves until they had to be pulled away by those inside to allow the next A few people hiding under a feasting table heard the rafters of the
pair of huscarls to emerge. Each dead man dragged within seemed to stare mead hall rattle, the timbers groaning as the flames ate away at them. The

43
 The Northlands Saga Complete
death throes of splintering wood sounded as a section of the roof crashed force them farther out with what little strength remained to her.
through a table as if it were a clay pot, crushing the lucky ones beneath it Blood-spattered Starkathr bounded forward, cleaving into the old hus-
and burning the others alive. A woman, her dress torn and hair smoldering carl’s neck and hooking the man with his axe. In a berserker rage of near
from bits of thatch, gazed at the scene of destruction around her, her mind inhuman strength, Starkathr yanked hard on his axe, pulling the now-dead
and senses addled. Next to her, she could dimly see her husband through man towards him. Howling with evil glee, Starkathr lifted the corpse of
the smoke. The fallen rafter lay across his shattered legs, while burning old Vegestr, dented blade still clutched in hand, over his head and with
thatch made his tunic smolder. He repeatedly spasmed weakly, as if trying a mighty heave threw it at Gundrik and Egill. The body did no hurt but
to get up, not fully realizing that he was trapped. The woman, in her grief rocked the both of them on their feet, knocking them off balance and caus-
and madness, turned away from him. Fighting her way to her feet, she ing them to falter in their attacks. The ten hand-picked men, sporting no
stood up. more than minor nicks and cuts themselves, closed on the pair like wolves
The woman pushed her way forward, knocking down others in a blind, on a wounded hind.
desperate bid to escape. The burning roof fell all around her. Unable to Exhausted and broken in spirit, Runa stepped back from the doorway
see, she clawed and punched at anything appearing out of the smoke. An- and gazed at the floor. She summoned all that was left of her strength and
other rafter collapsed in front of her, barely missing her. She stumbled courage for one final push. As she looked up again, her eyes widened in
over it, half falling and half crawling, tearing her skin and burning her horror as she saw blade after blade strike home on her husband and son.
flesh. She couldn’t even scream for all the smoke searing her lungs. Her Their shields and their own blades were insufficient to parry them all, and
vision swam before her in the shimmering waves of heat. The woman both were soon frozen in place where they stood in the doorway, pierced
collapsed to her knees and slowly sank to the floor. Just ahead of her, she many times by the steel of their foe. As the blades were withdrawn, the
saw three figures: Jarl Gundrik, his son Egill, and his wife Runa. Booted paralysis that had seemed to hold them aloft was suddenly gone, and for
feet stampeded over her and her final thoughts fled with the last of her life. a second that seemed to stretch into eternity, Gundrik and Egill stood up-
It was a scene repeated throughout the mead hall; the smoke and heat did right and motionless. If she squinted just right, Runa thought to herself,
the murderers’ work for them and the people died, cursing the men outside she couldn’t even tell that they were injured — perhaps just standing in
for the sin they were committing and themselves for turning even from the doorway as they returned in triumph from a day’s hunt. But the illu-
loved ones in a desperate bid for escape. It was one thing to die in battle sion — of her mind as much as of her eyes —could not last. The pair’s
but like this, in a burning hall, this was an act against the gods themselves. limbs contorted at angles speaking of intense pain, and knees sagged, as
suddenly all strength fled from them. Then, ever so slowly, together they
***** crumpled forward onto the ground. Jarl and heir. Father and son. Brothers
in arms, they lay together on the blood-slick earth. Runa saw it all, and
Another householder fell, this time at the feet of Jarl Gundrik. He, with she screamed a crying paean of horror and loss that threatened to burst
wife and son clinging to him, had carefully made their way through the her lungs.
inferno towards the hall’s entrance. With them was his last huscarl, the The mead hall shuddered like a dying thing, its death rattle echoing
elderly Végestr who had served Gundrik’s father before him. Once the through the skeleton of its charred timbers. Runa, enraged, clawed her
strongest and most skilled of the huscarls, Végestr now spent his days way into the doorway, ripping away an obstructing body with a strength
dozing before the hearth and telling tales of old to the children. Now he not her own. She stood tall, the daughter of Erik of Roskilde, breathing
stood with his jarl, naked blade in a hand trembling with age and eyes labored, body heaving with anger and exhaustion. She locked gazes with
rheumy with age. the ten men, her senses fully focused by her hatred for them. She drank in
Gundrik, face and beard stained with soot and ash, fiery thatch burning the sight of them, reveled in the clarity of ever nick and hurt they carried,
holes in a once rich cloak, let out a roar despite the smoke threatening to gagged on the foul miasma of their fetid murderers’ breath. She affixed
suffocate him. His battle cry rejuvenated the old Végestr, who raised his their appearance in her memory, for all time, to spread before the seat
sword in feeble arms strengthened with renewed prupose. They moved of Wotan himself. She stared unflinching as they advanced on her. They
forward along with Egill who clutched a fine sword of his own, master- would show her no mercy, she knew, but at least she would join her hus-
fully crafted by a dwarven smith in Trotheim. The three men — one bent band and son in the afterlife. Her wits were quick enough to pick up a
with age, one at the end of his prime, and one still in full flush of youth — dropped sword from the ground. Gundrik and Egill had died with sword in
pushed forward, silver arm-rings clicking together softly as they pushed hand as men of courage, men of mind’s worth. To join them she too must
through the bodies of friends and family. Runa remained a few paces back feast in Valhalla, she knew.
at the word of her husband. He would see them free he had promised, Cnut reached her first, blocking her untrained and clumsy attack and
even if his shade had to hold the center of the shieldwall. She hated that he then callously giving her a slap that sent her spinning but not down. Smil-
talked like that; she loved that he talked like that. ing grimly at his own unexpected cruelty, he moved in for the kill. With a
Gundrik met the assault at the door with his own steel, a heavy sword final shriek like its own anguished cry of defeat, the front of the Jarl Gun-
which had tasted battle many times before. He hacked and slashed at the drik’s hall collapsed. Cnut and his men were forced to scramble backward
weapons greeting him: spears, axes, and swords. Ancient Végestr stood as timbers fell to avoid them. More timbers joined the cascade, and then
to one side, expertly parrying the blades aimed at him with a skill not the rest of the roof gave way, falling into the smoking hollow that was
seen since his own prime, while Egill squeezed through the doors to his less than an hour earlier a joyous mead hall. The walls soon joined the
other side, using his smaller stature and dwarf-forged blade to protect his collapse, completely the destruction.
father’s flank. Blade strokes fell all around the three warriors. Roaring Coughing from the effluvia of debris and dust thrown up by the hall, the
again and again, Gundrik fought with the desperation of a cornered boar. ten men looked around and at each other in stunned silence. Where Runa
His sword spat sparks again and again as it met those of his foes, staving Gundrikswif had stood a moment before was now nothing more than a
off certain death. heap of burning rubble. Even they had not expected such a gruesome fi-
The ten men smelled victory and pressed their attack. Cnut shoved nale for the jarl’s wife.
Skorrbín back as Gundrik’s sword shattered the man’s shield into pieces. Flames still raged but their work was done. The destruction was com-
Egill’s sword came perilously close to Cnut himself, who delivered a back plete; nothing but a pile of burning timbers remained of Jarl Gundrik’s
hand swing in answer. The blow sank deep into young Egill’s side but mead hall. In the flickering light of the fires, the men scanned for signs
only delivered wound, not a killing stroke. Cnut then attempted to engage of movement or other telltale signs of any survivors. Nothing but the roar
Gundrik, but the taller man had reach and desperation on his side, slowly of fire answered them. No one could survive in that crushing inferno. Of
forcing the men back with his wild and reckless swings. Runa there remained no sign. A pile of burning timbers lay where she had
The mead hall’s roof shuddered suddenly and loudly as if to accompa- stood over the corpses of her husband and son, a fitting barrow for the
ny the noise of the battle below. From inside, Runa could see it sagging dead buried beneath.
over the doorway, the burning hell of flames that awaited above, separated The day was theirs. Now was the time for strong drink and soft women.
from those below by only the thinnest remaining layer of thatch. She des- The courageous few who had dared challenge the laws of men and even
perately pushed against the backs of her son and her husband, trying to the gods had prevailed. Not a witness remained alive, so no wergild would

44
 Player's Guide
be forthcoming, no pronouncement of outlaw would be laid against them.
Theirs was a complete and total victory. Ten brave men stood in mute wit-
ness to their handiwork. Suddenly the night didn’t seem quite so empty,
the cold air of winter not quite so refreshing. The shadow walkers — sce-
adugenga — were known to wander the night. A darkened forest could
hide a thousand eyes; the chill of air could be the deadly gaze of the dead
lingering on the living. The oldest races of mankind had forbidden hall-
burning as an affront before the gods…they must have had good reason.
The smoke-stained, blood-spattered men gazed at each other and at the
carnage they had wrought — the wyrd they had crafted for themselves.
One by one they quietly backed away before turning and going the way
from which they had come, until only Cnut stood beside the burning pyre.
His mind snapped from dark contemplation with a start. He looked around
and realized that he stood completely alone. A timber in the fire popped in
a sudden shower of sparks. The night wind moaned through the boughs of
a nearby tree. A sudden chill traced its way down his spine. Cnut Anglison
quickly turned and retraced his steps as fast as his cold-numbed feet could
carry him.

*****

Ten brave men fled into the night.

*****

As dawn neared, a fresh snowfall blanketed the massacre in a merci-
ful burial shroud. The thickly falling flakes caused the lingering fires to
hiss and spark until only steaming, smoldering pockets remained among
the pile of charred timbers. From the pile near the former front of the
hall a few of the timbers shifted slightly to reveal a pocket in the rubble
below, a pocket formed by the side-by-side corpses of an older warrior
and a young warrior, both still clutching hilt of sword in death. A narrow
sheltered space, liberally covered in smoldering ash but clear of crushing
debris, remained between them. From this sheltered hollow a trembling
hand extended upward and pushed away another small piece of debris
to enlarge the opening it had made. It was a hand horribly burned and
bloodied. A hand hanging with ragged, charred strips of its own flesh. It
was a woman’s hand.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

The Endless Ice

By Nathan Shank

GM Note
Spoiler Warning: Light

“The Endless Ice” tells the tale of one of the Nûk, the tribes of elves that inhabit the frozen wastes beyond the North and her journey to save
her son from the wendigo. It gives some details on the ways and customs of the Nûk. It does not tie in with any of the adventures in the North-
lands Saga Adventure Path and is safe to read for players who will be playing through those adventures. For a player who intends to play one
of the Nûk elves, it could even prove useful in providing some insight into the character.

T
longer shivered. Each portion of life was its own time. Eyes-of-Fire no
he spirits would guide her. longer counted the days. Now was a time of need, and so it would also
A movement at the edge of sight caught be of Cold.
her attention, and her legs instinctively But Cold was not an oppressor. Cold was detailed into the skin of Eyes-
locked. Her dogged facial expression sank of-Fire and her tundra elf kin of frozen Nûkland. It slowed the body, made
into a camouflage of lifelessness. She resem- it stiff, like armor on the smallest scale. It gave its own sensation when
bled a tree or a fallen log. In her thoughts she holding a block of ice or patting out the fire with bare palms. It was a
faded from herself and slipped into the prac- perpetual thaw. And somewhere, back in lineage and time, it still bore an
ticed immobile state of invisibility. ache; but otherwise, it was sight. To the Nûk, Cold was the only compan-
The movement flickered again. She ion, the dull solace in times of need. Even the spirits could not be so loyal.
resisted the urge to run. She remained
frozen. *****
Don’t move! Is it a wolf? A bear? A snow raptor?
The possibilities were many, all promising death. She willed herself Weeks before the great beast had risen cackling from the fire. She had
to not turn her head to glance. Slowly the glimpsed blur came into focus been out on the hunt. Longer and later than usual, the hunters had stayed
before her as it crossed into her line of sight, and it resolved into the harm- poised in the trees until the elk trusted that their scent was part of the sun-
less piebald tern. It limped and fluttered across the ageless tundra sky with less groves. When they returned in joyous spirits carrying the fat carcass
a lamed right wing. Relief flooded through her. and with fresh wine frothing in their horn casks, the fire-circle held sober
Eyes-of-Fire left her statue, returned to herself. The bird’s omen meant faces. All of them — Embersæge, his brothers and sisters, the Old One and
Ragnarök, the Truth That Comes at Twilight. And yet, as it was injured, other elders, and winking Ønnok — had seen the spirit take form. It grew,
its presage was uncertain. She knew the lone tern was not lost but only they said, from the fire before them: great antlers, unlike any won from a
delayed a few hours behind its flock. Still, it would lose its power of flight hunt, clawed outward unnaturally. An equine snout followed, leading to a
in a day, would hobble for an hour afterward, and would die or be eaten long, emaciated and torso with taloned forelimbs and ending in charred,
before the next hour closed. The tern opened its mouth as it passed above birdlike stumps of legs. But if it was the spirit of their long-stalked dinner
her, but its cry was carried away by the tundra’s immensity. Eyes-of-Fire that had just been brought into camp, it had emerged in retribution rather
knelt, pressed her lips to the icy earth, prayed without words. than sacred remembrance as had sometimes occurred in the past.
The tern was the only sign of life she had seen that day. The frigid tun- Ønnok cracked his crab-like arms and smacked his flapping lips. “Not a
dra hid some and deterred most. kind spirit,” he rasped, “willing to give when it takes. No, all of the mouth
The changing light through the blowing clouds revealed the tern’s right it was. Teeth tore at us. Fire and lashes. I blessed the sand in my hand and
wing was nearly frozen stiff. Its delicate feathers could not extend on the thrashed it with whips of the sacred grains. It reared in fear and slipped away
downstroke nor fold on the upstroke. It had become a seal’s flipper with its into the blaze.” Whether in fear or disgust, the spirit beast had left the Nûk
injury. The creature’s tiny feet pushed and the left wing fluttered unhelp- fire-circle in body, but its chilling image had sunk deep into their stomachs,
fully. If it knew how slow it was crawling by land instead of its peerless the seat of their thought and being. It would not soon be forgotten.
sky route, it did not show it. The planned celebration feast interrupted by the strange visitation, they
Eyes-of-Fire was hungry. She doubted the bird would survive. It could buried the fresh elk carcass far from camp and ate the winter’s frost-burnt
her give the strength needed to go just a bit farther, maybe even just far meal instead. Ønnok said they had reached their arm out too far, taken
enough. It might stretch her own life a day. If that day meant meeting a more than their fair share. Too many hunts. Too much waste. The clan was
spirit or crossing over the edge into a pocket of hope, then— not safe. Penance would be their master until fear consequences had been
Embersæge. fulfilled. Ønnok drew in his piles of sand and pounded the ground in front
Mission. of Danut, Eyes-of-Fire, and the other Nûk hunters. They had behaved like
Death. those our fathers had left so many years ago, he had said. Like those who
She passed on without looking at the tern. still remained in their endless pursuit revelry and meaninglessness. The
Eyes-of-Fire had been traveling long enough to forget the glow of a Nuk were lucky yet to not all be buried in the snows of their iniquities.
hearth fire, but cold was no longer a problem for her. Cold was habit, a The spirits had been quite clear, Ønnok decided. Prayer would heal.
part of her routine: Breakfast. Cold. Check bundle. Cold. Push the ice for But the spirits do not trust mortal promises. Neither do they mind mor-
ten hours. Cold. Break for dinner smaller than the night before. Cold. Bow tal wishes. No one was safe. Embersæge was not safe.
low in thanks for the food. Cold. Seek a safetree. Cold. Sleep. Cold.
This was her new life, for however many days it took. Eyes-of-Fire no *****

46
 Player's Guide
Eyes-of-Fire paused and collected herself. The unshifting distance had
This land was unlike any other clime known to the Nûk. It went on. left her soulless and alone. The shapeless vertigo in her eyes now migrat-
Sometimes it declined, other times inclined. No safe hills of trees pro- ed to her thoughts. Her short shanks tightened. Her neck begged to rest
tected. The expanse was vulnerability. Occasional clumps of stunted, against something solid.
wind-battered trees were the only distinguishing relief from the endless But how far is it? Where is it? A blurry distance is no sign of reaching
open drifts. the end. Survival is certain, but the destination may not be.
Everywhere the land reflected the cold and the icy, mirroring clouds. Even His curse must be cured. That’s all that matters. Crossing these barren
the smallest life became immense in the space that was otherwise void. ice fields draws near the promise of hope.
She heard a scramble. Hooves shook the permafrost. Antlers cut through Or is it hope of promise?
the cold mist from the nearby dusky trees. A massive elk, its fur coat cov- The distance dipped, as though following the world to its end did not
ered in ice, strode into Eyes-of-Fire’s presence. His proud breast rose and arrive in a hill or a wall or a misty barrier like all the stories foretold, but
fell, steam challenging the frosty air cooling his skin. He looked at Eyes- instead in a downward, gentle incline, forever. The frozen ground listed
of-Fire as if to speak, and a hushed intelligence articulated his face into an like a lone windswept tree.
expression she recognized somewhere in the back of her memory. Embersæge depends completely on Eyes-of-Fire.
Eyes-of-Fire held her breath for a moment, cleared her throat, and start- Eyes-of-Fire is Nûk. The Nûk are strong and have overcome much
ed to speak—. worse, have made journeys to make this tundra trek seem a hike. Some
The elk cut her off by smashing his teeth into the crippled tern. All she have called the Nûk the steadiest of the Alfar.
could see was the churning of horns as it bent to its task. The elk snorted Yes, north, north. Go north. North or nothing. No more than north. No
and huffed and bustled as the tern’s bones snapped like sticks and her less than anything. That is the journey. Giving up is unsayable, unthinkable.
feathers shredded. Her thoughts had become jumbled. The ice glared at her and made her
For the first time, Eyes-of-Fire was afraid. And she ran. forget what was what. And it all stemmed from being upset about the tern.
Or from unimagining her son back to who he was. He was not that crea-
***** ture with the aloof eyes and nubby legs. He strode like the breeze, could
notch an arrow as easily as a mother brings a babe to breast.
Eyes-of-Fire approached a frozen pool surrounded only by more miles Three things always triumph: the returning wind, the diurnal sun, the
of endless tundra. Her wind-burned and bleeding likeness gazed up at her. layering of snow.
Wrists and brow showed the skin peeling apart in dry curls. Worst of all her Motion seemed to take focus and then still. The day sun was unmoving,
trials — more than the cold and hunger, cuts and blisters, fear, and even the but the earth tilted.
ultimate uncertainty of her journey — was the isolation. Eyes-of-Fire had But death slips upon the unwary… And the wary as well?
never been alone before. Elk-Soul had been her hunting companion since Every part of her ached. Eyes-of-Fire scoffed at her weakness and con-
they were children who threw spears at seals that surfaced in the Three Riv- tinued on.
ers, stealing those young kills on the weeks filling their clan’s yearly route Or then again, maybe the destination is known. Where does that leave
to the coast. Sæt, her great-grandmother, had raised her in the family tent survival?
amid brothers and sisters now long lost to disease and disaster. Always, her
family was her spear. The Nûk did not abandon each other, and seeing this, *****
the spirits had always guided them. In spite of their retribution, they would
now accompany her in the absence of mortal shoulders. Embersæge had heard the howl. He told it all to her in a blubbering fit when
In a moment of indulgence, Eyes-of-Fire let herself see her family brace he returned, before his body began to change. It was the middle of the night.
her wrists and ankles where her thick leather jerkin met her mitts and Eyes-of-Fire had no idea he had even left the tent. Even Ønnok on his pallet in
where her boots tugged close with each step that made the skin more raw, the center of the sleeping band did not catch the fateful bay that roused her son.
swollen, and split. Her grandmother would fire an elixir from sacred blood Embersæge went out to it. The world to him became a snow tunnel, and
and mix it with wine and dark spices to poultice the wounds. They would he could no more imagine running another course than leaving the safety
harden stronger than before. And the same was true if one of them died. of the snow-packed passages amidst a blizzard. He approached it. The
The others would bind tighter or birth a new link that would solidify their mournful cry was muffled. Its wapiti net of horns was all that could be
strength. Perhaps, with no Nûk to save her from exposure, she would be seen as its flat enamel teeth chomped through the skull and sinews of some
that passing bond. But none were here to even know this thought. small unidentifiable beast. Incapable of a human smile, the creature’s spat-
The pain was getting worse. Eyes-of-Fire needed help. She could not tered mouth stretched at the ends and, as Embersæge panted with fear in
hunt alone. its presence, its eyes grew into a terrible, omniscient knowing.
To be alone is to die. Shriveled legs touching lightly as a dancer’s pivoted the fulsome night-
Yet in this chafing silence, the sky spoke. It told of the next day and mare of an elk with three quick swivels until it towered over Embersæge.
sometimes the next stretch of land. And the land replied. It told of the He could feel its hot breath from the fresh blood and smell the cold sweat
day before and sometimes the years before. It told Eyes-of-Fire that some on its wooly coat. It was one of our spirits, Embersæge swore to Eyes-of-
of her people had once passed this way. She was not alone in her march Fire, his fever burning badly. It was an Elk-god.
north. Though none knew what lay beyond the taiga and tundra, a syllable The Nûk have no gods but the souls of the trees, the beasts, the land.
dip in the flat plain spoke of a huddled trudge through the listless land, The Nûk have no god above all. All spirits are holy, none most holy.
movement that had disrupted the uniformity of the basic landforms that But Embersæge was in earnest. He spoke in feverish bursts, and his eyes
rose and fell before Eyes-of-Fire. There was a speech there that she knew became distracted, not quite Nûk. It was most likely from the long run to
and could interpret into life. confront the beast, leaving him flustered. Over days his arms swelled and
Eyes-of-Fire continued to gaze at her sullen likeness. She saw the Nûk grew brawny and coarse. Eyes-of-Fire had not noticed how the hair man-
in the rosy ice. hood had taken upon him. No, Eyes-of-Fire had been so sure he was still
The Nûk always care for themselves. a child only days before. Then, hideously, his legs had started to shrivel.
After that, the transformation came quickly.
***** She had stared in horrors at his mouth now spouting gibberish, at his
teeth that were no longer his teeth. They widened and smelt of a blood not
She was so tired that the land danced before her. No comfort, though, could his own. It was horrible. It was her flesh, her face that grew the ragged
be spared. Spots in her eyes became blinking clouds in a distance of vague bumps and had the tawny horns protruding through black curls. Her legs
white and blue rocklike wisps. The day had fallen in on itself without her real- stretched and shrank, her organs changed. She felt it as her own body.
izing. Nameless movements flushed her vision from the sides inward. Seeing and feeling and being became one.
Death is a long ways off. A mother’s errand always triumphs. Fire is Eyes-of-Fire gazed lastly into her son’s eyes and told him, “My final
stronger than ice… isn’t it? breath with you, my son, lest my final breath save you.”

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And she had run. than a formless landscape under the moonless sky. The cold rushed around
her. Her legs burned. Her eyes begged sleep. But another part of her soul
***** awakened, quickened by fear and new knowledge.
She was not alone.
Its jaws clamped around her arm before she could react. Faster than
any gray wolf she had ever seen, it cut the distance between horizon and *****
presence. The white land erupted in noise, and her body erupted in pain.
Her hide coat seemed thinner than skin in trying to block yellow fangs. She was seven. Lost in the Wyrm Fang Peaks. She hadn’t eaten for three
Kill it! sunrises and two sunsets. Her attempts to spark a fire with flint had winked
She screamed inside, she pushed fear away, she stilled her soul — all out fruitlessly. Her knife had broken when sawing at a stony tree trying to
in an instant. Throwing her weight toward her head, Eyes-of-Fire flipped make a shelter. She was called the “soft girl” and even thought of herself
her small, squat frame and sent the wolf scrabbling over the bumpy ice, as soft, like gypsum.
taking her flesh with it. Night was cutting in over the peaks quickly and, having waited with all
She regained her feet, the wolf already charging at her with teeth bared. her will for as long as she could in a shallow shelf along a mountain rise,
Run! Run, you fool! she had felt the first terror of true despair. Then broke into the gray light
Eyes-of-Fire jumped headlong into the timberwolf. Their bodies col- the proud silhouette of a bull elk. It hadn’t spied her, but she knew her
lided in a stiffly-frozen mash of fur and nail and skin. Eyes-of-Fire might scent was a giveaway. Besides that, her knife broken, she was weaponless,
have had some wolfblood in her, to see the ferocity and aim of her blows, and her perch was no safe haven. She was a soft, hungry, weaponless, vul-
the complete trust when she used her teeth as weapon, the yellow fire in nerable girl. She even felt the cold that her people had learned to ignore.
her own eyes. The bull gave a heave and collapsed.
For a moment, the rough-and-tumble battle was an equal match. Two Eyes-of-Fire felt a thrill of energy and a fear of the unknown. She
similar foes tore at one another. poised herself on the edge of the shelf, scanning for the source of danger.
Its throat! Bite its throat! But whatever enemy had injured the elk had gone. Its legs too weak to
And then the deed was done. Blood-soaked, Eyes-of-Fire loomed like rise from the ground, the bull lifted its eyes toward her perch. It asked.
a sorceress over the carcass in front of her, and she raised an ear-splitting No, no, no. This was not her role. She was to come to the mountains
cry into the heavy skies. and kill and win her victory and so gain her name among her people, or
An echo — or a voice — answered. else salt the peaks with her fleshless bones. She was to be the hunter. Hers
While her rage still held, she threw together a fire. She heaved the wolf was the kill.
on top. She ate its scorching meat. The only trace of sentience left in her But the soft girl went down to him. There she saw the four slashes
was the gracing of her mind with the image of a poor, deformed son. across the bull’s breast. A residue from the talons that tore those gashes
webbed dark purple and green.
***** She knelt and dipped her head, releasing her guard. “Dear spirits,” she
prayed, “here lies a noble beast. I have not seen what thing would kill and
Night passed over the tundra. There was no safetree. There were no not eat, or attack without blessing, but I submit this soul to be safe among
more trees at all. Eyes-of-Fire had been marching for a long, long time. yours.” She ripped a strip from her essential cloak and bound the garish
Her stomach felt like that of a wakened bear in spring. Her feet were worn wounds, knowing the dressing would not heal. She dribbled water out of
bare as ice. She feared the next season like a tree in autumn’s prime. She her thin waterskin into its parched mouth. A silence passed between them.
was falling. “Now forgive me, father.”
Gradually but perceptibly, the ground beneath her ceaseless feet began Then the soft girl broke her softness as with rock for mallet and broken
to slicken. What spirit knew the kind of land she now tread? No stars lit branch for chisel she wrenched the noble beast’s towering antlers off his
the sky. Land, sky, and Eyes-of-Fire were one night. Wind bore with flat head. Ribboning her cloak, she bound the antlers to her wrists. She took
line force around her. Eyes-of-Fire pressed forward against it. off through the trees. She hunted as the bull. She let out a howl.
She heard a prolonged, low, ratchetting crack. She froze. Though she The seer who had been silently watching her woman journey from hid-
could see nothing in the pitch black, in her mind’s eye the path was vivid. ing, bored and worried a moment before, could now barely keep pace with
Her solid ground had become ice. The ice had become thin. The thin ice the soft girl who was starving to death. New life filled her veins and re-
had begun to break. shaped her face. When he finally caught up to her, he found her straddling
Good comes to those who pass a test of pain and courage. Danger and the wolf carcass, bearing the bloodied antlers before her, eyes blazing.
fear must befriend those whose eyes gain the creases of wisdom. But death The seer approached her confidently, then cautiously. “You are no lon-
severs some. Not all gain aged truths. ger the soft girl. You are the hunter. You are Eyes-of-Fire.”
Yes, nothing was certain. The separated ice branched out in her imag-
ination, set her in a slow, sink to a lightless grave. But this was worth *****
resisting.
But Eyes-of-Fire is nearing death. “I am Eyes-of-Fire. Who are you?” She bore no doubt, only daring.
But Embersæge. The thin ice around her could shatter at any moment. The wind pushed
But her feet. from behind.
But his face made a horrid mask. Your weary thoughts. Or what happens when you are truly alone. Or
But her strength-less limbs. your imagination unhinged.
But the cries in the wild nothing. “But you said a name. The name of the creature that transformed Em-
But the certainty of danger made flesh. bersæge. Wendigo. The claws and the stumps. I saw it true in my mind.
But she was Nûk. How could I know that?”
Is the risk of your life worth the chance of changing his? Is your death Since you saved me that day, I have been part of you. But so has the
equal to a baseless hope? fearsome beast that tore me down. Wendigo.
Not all baseless. Ønnok had prophesied that the spirits dwelled beyond “No — it can’t be. No — I freed you that day.”
the tundra. That in times of desperation, they were a salve, waiting to be You tried to save my mortal body. And I have sought to save yours in
balm to the wounded hand in need. return.
There is no cure for the curse of the wendigo. “For these years, since I hunted for the family, since I birthed my son,
What? Eyes-of-Fire did not know “wendigo,” but as soon as it sounded I have always known that you, in my memory, were the true Ragnarök,
in her head, she did know it. The hind skin, the branching antlers, the the truth that comes at twilight. How can you not be this when you were
terrible and lifeless legs. Wendigo. the truth that came to me and became me at twilight? How can you be the
A brush of light signaled the return of day. She could see little more Angrök, the troubled dusk?”

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I am not truth but loyalty. And I am both. In that, I am like you. And if
you trust loyalty, I can take you beyond this cracking ice.
“But how can I trust a being both good and evil?”
All beings are both good and evil.
A tension-filled silence huddled over the black tundra as Eyes-of-Fire
considered her fate. She still could not make out the sunrise. Perhaps she
had stolen so far north the sun no longer rose. Perhaps she would span the
tentative ice and with this spirit’s aid meet a being that none had ever seen.
Perhaps he would give her the knowledge to save her son. Then again,
perhaps his home, like hers, would be among the icy depths.
“You have seen the being that my son is becoming?”
I have known it worse than you have.
“And you have lived as both an elk in the Wyrm Fang Peaks and the
wendigo beast who haunts the Nûkland?”
I am the bloodshed of both. The land from this tundra to the North Sea
has been my tent.
“But have you loved Embersæge?”
A faint light filtered over a distant incline onto the frozen pier on which
Eyes-of-Fire stood. A water smell lingered in the air. The tundra rumbled
with a vibration deeper than thunder.
Eyes-of-Fire stepped forward, and the brittle ice gave way some, the wa-
ter pooling around her feet. Hope so recently blossomed now withered. She
stepped forward again, and the ice verged on cracking, but held yet another
moment. She closed her eyes and looked ahead. Eyes-of-Fire took a deep
breath, thought of Embersæge when he was a newborn babe, and took an-
other, resolute step forward toward a frozen glade that held her salvation.

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 The Northlands Saga Complete

The Sword of Kings

By Kevin Wright

GM Note
Spoiler Warning: Light

“The Sword of Kings” is a fable familiar to all children of the Northlands. It tells the story of the how the first and only High Køenig of the
Northlands, Kraki Haraldson came into possession of the legendary Sword of Kings, Kroenarck, and was launched on his path to destiny. While
several of the adventures in the Northlands Saga Adventure Path adventure path relate to the long-dead High Køenig and his fabled sword, al-
lowing your players to read this story will not spoil any of the encounters in those adventures and will, in fact, serve to represent the knowledge
that their characters would likely have already from their childhood it they were raised in the Northlands.

I
of a family that had been caught and eaten by a wolf pack. Their eyeless
n the darkness before dawn, Kraki sockets haunted his dreams. He would fight, but he had no illusions that,
Thrallson slipped out of his father’s hovel weaponless, he could prevail against even one of those gaunt, gray-furred
and stalked silently past several other beasts. What if he reached the field of battle and one of the berserkers,
hovels every bit as ramshackle as his own revived from some stunning blow, caught him there? Could he escape one
‘til he found the edge of town. From there of those blood-mad warriors? What if he found a field full of bodies…
he then strode bravely and foolishly into bodies that were not alive, but also not dead? The lore of his people
the long-accursed wood of Garmrdress. teemed with tales of wights who rose to slake their inhuman appetites on
Word had come to his small village warm human flesh, of unliving draugr who roamed the desolate places,
that a battle had been waged in the forest hungering for cold vengeance on those who would dare to keep breathing
the previous day: a troop of Jarlsmen when they could not. Before long, Kraki couldn’t tell whether he shook
had finally caught up with a band of wild more from cold or from the fear blossoming within him.
berserkers who had been terrorizing the countryside. The battle hadn’t Fortunately, he reached his destination before his courage failed him
been large by any standard — no more than thirty combatants on either utterly. He came upon an open meadow, awash in a somber pool of
side — but it had been bloody. Only a handful of survivors had escaped moonlight. Corpses of men were strewn across it like scattered leaves
the carnage to find sanctuary in the village and bind their wounds. fallen after a storm. Among the slaughter lay an abundance of sundered
“Why has no one gone to despoil the fallen?” young Kraki asked when weapons, shattered standard, and broken bodies. Nothing moved except
he heard the news. “Surely there lay on the battlefield many fine axes and for a solitary black bird that glided from the shadows of the forest to land
shields, torcs and arm-rings and other bright treasures. Will no one brave and peck at an eye in a heedless face.
the woods and claim them for his own?” A shuddering chill entered Kraki’s body as he surveyed the carnage.
The elders of the village shook their graying heads wisely and breathed In that moment, all the boyish fancies he had about war and battle glory
deeply from their long clay pipes. seeped from him only to be replaced by a curious certainty that he
“No, young one,” they said, “None shall enter the darkened eaves of the would see more scenes like this in his lifetime. That he would stand on
Garmrdress and loot the dead. For the battlefield is claimed by the Lord of battlefield after battlefield and that, each time, he would emerge the victor.
Crows and none shall draw from that dread one’s talons what he calls his Unbeknownst to him, Kraki’s wyrd had roosted full upon him.
own. The valkyries claim the souls of the brave, lifting them to Valhalla on The youth walked across the meadow, picking his way cautiously
wings of finest gold, but the rest belong to the Crow-lord and his feathery through the dead, keen to find weapons and armor that were whole and
horde. That blood-soaked field is his domain. still serviceable. But his search seemed to be in vain. Everything he found
Nay, lad,” they said, chuckling at his ignorance. “None that love life shall was useless: here was a shield with no handle, there a sword with the blade
set foot on that battle ground, lest the Lord of Crows claim him as well.” snapped off. The best he’d found was a dented helmet and a spear with
Kraki pondered this wisdom in silence for a good, long while. its shaft splintered off a foot beneath the spearhead. Muttering darkly, his
Eventually, he decided that it was dross and that he was going to ignore fears forgotten, he roamed among the dead, continuing his quest.
it completely. He wanted weapons and armor, to take his place in the Without warning, a violently fluttering, inky black mass seemed
shieldwall and to hear the maidens sing a paean in his name. But he was to congeal from the very air itself and overwhelm him; it was a sharp-
young yet…and the son of a thrall. None was there to gift him blade nor beaked, harshly cawing murder of crows flown from the nearby forest
byrnie as a father would, much less arm-ring and honor. For too long eaves. Kraki squatted low, buffeted by a whirlwind of shadowy wings
Kraki had waited. He would wait no longer. Somewhere on that blighted and slashing talons. He covered his eyes and lashed out wildly with his
battlefield lay a sharp spear or a burnished greataxe and they were going to broken spear. The tumult created by the crows was deafening. The boy
be his no matter what some crow-thing might think of it. Like as not, the screamed a hoarse, panicky war-cry as he fought, fearing that he might
old men were full of wind about the whole thing anyway. lose his hearing as well as his eyes, but the dark swarm dispersed almost
Now he found himself picking his way through the leaves of that as quickly as it appeared.
darkened wood with only the flickering of a pitch-soaked brand and a wan Kraki huddled low, panting deeply. A score of tiny scratches covered
moon to light his path. his hands, neck, and face, stinging souvenirs of the murder’s swift attack.
Despite his earlier confidence, the ever-deepening gloom and the forest’s For a hundred racing heartbeats, nothing stirred on the lonely battlefield.
dire reputation gnawed at him. Misgivings grew in his heart. Perhaps there Kraki stood, his hands shaking, and wondered what had just happened.
were no Crow-lord, but what if he should encounter a wolf? He knew From the night air above, three dark figures swooped down and lit on
that he would fight it with torch and fist, but he had once seen the remains the fallen bodies that lay before him. The two nearest him were monstrous

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crows, large as mastiffs and stinking of offal. They hopped from corpse to weapons. My father was disgraced in battle and lost his rightful name. He
corpse, their black beaks tearing through armor, skulls, and rib cages to glut is now a thrall in the jarldom of Snorri Fairbeard. I would become a man
themselves on the soft viscera they found beneath. But ever their strange of mind’s-worth and so restore unto my father his name and his honor.”
heads cocked in Kraki’s direction. Ever they moved closer and closer to His face burned at this confession for he was telling the dearest desire of
him, unearthly malevolence darkly radiating from every move they made. his young, fiery heart.
The third figure had landed behind them and stood utterly still. It took a “Awwwwk! Honor. Mind’s-worth. The priiiiiiide of men. These things
moment for Kraki to give it heed while faced with the avian monsters that hath served to fill my gullet these many centuries. But as often as I feast,
drew ever nearer him. It was man-shaped, seemingly cloaked and hooded the burning hunger always returneth. Always, always. And there are always
in a mantle of glossy black pinions. A beak extended from the front of its boys just like you — foolish and brave — to rise up and feeeeeeed it.
head, but Kraki caught sight of a pale, human face within its maw, its eyes Tell me, boy,” it croaked, stepping from its perch and hopping
black as midnight and its expression devoid of any human emotion. The uncomfortably nearer. “Thinkest thou that that rude bit of iron in your
words fell numbly from his freezing lips, “The Lord of Crows.” hand wilst bring thou unto glory?”
As if his words were a signal, the monstrous birds leaped toward him Kraki retreated a step. “I…I don’t know,” he said, looking down at the
with piercing cries and outstretched wings. Reacting more from fright than axe. “I only know that if I do nothing, then I will be nothing.” His jaw set
from courage, he struck out with his spear-shard at the first crow that came as he glared at the crow-thing. “And I will not be nothing.”
within reach. His aim couldn’t have been more perfect, the spearhead The Crow-lord peered down at him, only two steps away. Through its
shearing through the monstrosity’s eye socket and into its brain. Kraki blood-slimed beak Kraki could see that the eyes in the stark white human-
was knocked backward by the death-throes of the crow, losing his grip like face were deepest black from pupil to sclera. That blackness sucked in
on the spear and his balance in at the same time. He fell over something the meager light from stars, moon, and torch and utterly devoured it. Kraki
in the dark; whether the body of a Jarlsman or berserker he could not say. felt as if those eyes devoured him as well.
He struggled to rise, but the other fiendish crow flew up and upon him, “Nooooooooo,” the Lord of Crows said quietly. “No. Now that I seest
stabbing its deadly beak into his brain-pan. That dented helmet saved him, thee I know that thou wilst not be nothing.”
turning the blow from his skull but directing it down his neck and into Kraki stood stock-still, feeling like a mouse frozen by the gaze of a hawk.
his shoulder. Kraki collapsed with a pain-filled shriek. With a strength he The Lord ruffled his feathers and stepped back.
didn’t know he had, he shoved the creature off of him. It beat its wings and “But thou wilst not achieve the fame thou desirest with so crude an
rose, gathering power for its next lethal strike. instrument. I knooooweth where lies a blade beyond compare, wrought of
Kraki felt around on the ground for something — anything — to ward divine metal and forged in dragon-fire. Kroenarck she is called, Icemelter,
off the blow he knew would kill him. As the crow descended upon him, he and strong as Garmr’s bonds are the runes that lieth upon her. But hidden
grasped the handle of he-knew-not-what and slashed upward as he rolled she is, yes, yes, hidden away from mortal eyes, and I alone know her
to the side. That time, the bird shrieked, its feet hacked off by the axe in resting place. ‘Tis a shame for her to lie so lonely, lost from world of men
Kraki’s hand. The beast rolled awkwardly on the ground and Kraki leapt and useless, buried in the damp clay.”
to his feet and swung the axe again and again and again into the twitching Kraki said nothing as the Lord of Crows hopped back onto the stump
body of the monstrous crow. and resumed his preening.
When, finally, it lay in an unmoving, ruined mass of bloody feathers, the boy “Thinkest thee that thou art worthy of such a blade, boy? Wouldst thou
rose shakily to his feet. His head swum uncertainly and his quivering legs felt claim Icemelter as thine own?”
as if they couldn’t hold him up. The white moon seemed brighter, the details of Kraki tried to speak, but could not. At the word ‘Kroenarck’, he felt as
the gory battlefield appeared sharper to his widened eyes. He breathed in deeply. if a bell had been rung deep within him and that every member of his body
Frigid air revived his burning lungs, and the pounding in his head ceased. resounded with its deep and thunderous call. When he gained control of
Looking down, he saw that his torch lay practically at his feet, its flame nearly himself, he said, “Lord of Crows, I say not that I am worthy, but I would
smothered by feathers. Kraki picked it up and with a breath, gently coaxed its give my life and fortune to claim such a sword. Tell me where it lies and I
embers back to life. He sighed and looked around him. will claim it though I must climb Yggdrasil and plunder the Nine Worlds
From across the corpse-filled field approached the Lord of Crows. to call it my own.”
With quirky, bird-like motions it hopped and fluttered toward him. He “Awwkhaaaawk! Such fire! I like thine heart. One day, I’ll likely eat it.
couldn’t rightly tell whether it seemed more a man in a crow-suit or bird If truly thou pinest for Kroenarck, then I shall tell theeeeeeee how to gain
with a beak-enclosed face. Either way, it horrified him. her. Yet why shouldst I gift such a treasure and gain naught for myself?
The boy stood paralyzed as the thing approached. When it came within Wouldst this seem just in the eyes of god or man? Nay, boy. Nay. ‘Twould
two spear-lengths, it stopped, cocked its queer head and peered intently be foolish of me. And the Lord of Crows is no fool.”
at him. Still reeling from the madness of his recent battle with the monstrous
“Hast slain my servants, booooooy?” it croaked. crows and heart aflame with desire for the sword, Kraki spoke without
“Art a doughty warrior, hmmmmmm?” Its voice held overtones of thinking.
mellifluous Asgard and undertones of guttural Niflheim. “Please, Crow-lord! I would give my soul for such a blade! Tell me
The Lord of Crows hopped to the side, circling Kraki. The boy turned, where I may find it!”
facing the crow-thing, his ax held at the ready. And for the first time, the youth saw an expression steal over the
“Knowest who I am, do yoooooouuuuu? Knowest who standeth before slackened face of the carrion-lord, one of exultation quickly tempered.
thee?” It stopped its movement to stoop over a cadaver, rip off an arm with It left behind the filthy residue of an oily smirk. Bodies and blood the
its beak and hurl it into a nearby tree. fey creature had aplenty. Yes, fresh meat and muscle, mushy brain and
“Y-y-y-yes. I know who you are. You are the Lord of Crows,” Kraki unctuous entrails were his in abundance. But the souls of mortal men were
said. In horror, he watched the severed limb dangle from a branch. a precious delicacy that rarely he feasted upon and ever strove to gain.
The creature seemed pleased. “Awwwwk! So. My fame precedeth me. Moreover, the crow-thing sensed that this soul might be the tastiest treat
My name is still heavy on the tongues of men. That is well.” It leapt onto a of them all.
stump and preened itself, glimpses of its inhuman face peeking every once “As thou hast spoken, so shall it be. Thus are the stakes: if thou canst
in a while from the depths of its razor beak. It spoke again. answer my riddles three, I shall gift unto thee the blade Kroenarck, called
“If thou knowest who I am, then thou shouldst know that thou standeth Icemelter in the Northman tongue. With it, thou shalt become a warrior
within my rightful domain. The valkyrie have claimed their own. The rest without peer and a leader of men unlike any other that have come before.
belong to meeeeeee. Why,” it croaked, fluffing out its wings, “wouldst Power, glory, and fame shall all be thine.
thou endanger thy body and soul by intruding here? Art thou mad with However,” he said, stepping down from his perch and stalking toward
grief or head-wound? Seekest thou the long sleep?” the boy, his feathered head weaving back and forth predatorily. “However.
Kraki calmed himself as best he could. “No, Lord. I am neither mad If thou failest to answer any of my riddles, then thine soul shall I claim
nor do I desire death. I have come that I may find a weapon with which to for mine own, the loot of this, our own personal battlefield. Have we an
do battle.” He gestured with the axe in his hand. “No one will grant me accoooord?”

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Kraki knew that he should refuse this contest. Young as he was, he
still sensed that the crow-lord would not enter into a competition that he *****
thought he could lose. But beneath that fear and trepidation, like a strong,
warm river beneath a sheet of ice, he felt a certainty unlike anything he A year of long nights later, Kraki stood atop a long, stone barrow
had ever known. Everything in him shouted yes! to this game, even though somewhere deep in the Waldron Mountains. He was no longer the boy who
the stakes were higher than his young mind could fathom. snuck out of his father’s house and into the woods. Bristles of whiskers
“Yes, Lord of Crows. We have an accord.” shadowed his long-jawed face and a welcome growth-spurt added inches
No triumphant squawk did the being make, but its black eyes gleamed to his height. Kraki was now broad-shouldered and rangy, not yet come
exultantly. into his full strength, but nonetheless one to be reckoned with. Moreover,
“Awwwk! That is well, booooy. Let us begin.” And it squatted on a the trials of the past year had hardened him. It had been no easy task
nearby corpse. Kraki made a seat of the stump it had vacated and settled to come to the resting place of Icemelter. His path from battlefield to
his mind to think. mountain barrow had been by no-ways straight. Time and again in his
Without preamble, the carrion-thing said, “Who is the great one that quest to claim his prize, he had faced hardship and danger and bone-
glideth o’er the earth, and swalloweth both waters and woods? The wind chilling terror, but now that he had arrived, he had no desire for delay.
he feareth, but wights nowise, and seeketh to harm the sun. Aright guess He looked down upon the stone slab. Its surface was covered in deep-
now this riddle, mortal man!” struck runes, hoary beyond reckoning. He could feel the power lying
Long hours had Kraki sat at the hearthfire, listening to his elders play at restless in the barrow, a power that he felt in himself as he spoke the words
words and conundrums, yet never had heard this one. Fortunately for him, given him by the Lord of Crows.
the cold air frosted his breath as he pondered the enigma, and his quick
mind struck upon the answer. By water, stone, and open sky
“Good is your riddle, Oh Master of Carrion and guessed it is: that is By Garmr’s howl and Serpent’s lie
the fog. One cannot see the sun because of him, but he disappears when By Ymir’s death and Ragnarök’s field
the wind blows, and men can do nothing against him. He kills the light I command that Icemelter stand revealed!
of the sun.”
The fey creature only shuffled its taloned feet in the earth and posed his With a resounding crack! the lid of the barrow burst asunder along its
next question. “On the way of a miracle: water becometh bone. What is’t? length. The sun caught on something bright within the fracture, and Kraki
Aright guess now this riddle, mortal man!” plunged his hand into the gap and grasped the hilt of the most beautiful
Kraki hardly had to think about this one. The words tumbled hurriedly object he’d ever seen. It was a longsword, shining bright as new-minted
from his mouth. silver. Its quillons were thick with interlocking runes, and its pommel
“Ice! Good is your riddle, crow-lord, but the answer can only be ‘ice’. was formed in the image of a wolf-head gnawing on a chain. He swung
Winter grips water in her frigid fingers and hardens him to bone, as you say.” the sword through the thin mountain air. It felt alive in his hands and he
For long, breathless moments, the Lord of Crows was silent. For a laughed as the blade caught sunlight and shone it back to the sky. He
moment, Kraki dared hope that his quick response had befuddled the gazed out over the vast, untamed land below him and brought Kroenarck
creature. But soon, in that field fertile with the unplanted dead, the fey up to his eyes in a solemn salute.
being spoke again, its voice low and menacing in the gloom. “Now,” he said, an immovable certainty settling into his words. “Now
“Awwhwwk. What marvel is’t which without I saw before Delling’s shall they know the name of Kraki Haraldson.” And he started the long
door? It lights for men, and swallows up lights and wolves seeketh ever trek back to his father’s home.
to win it. Aright guess now this riddle, Food for Worms.”
Young Kraki was at a complete loss. He’d no clue what Delling’s door
could be. Wasn’t there a man named Delling in the village down the valley?
Or was Delling the name of a dwarf from childhood nursery rhyme? He
thought that a torch could be what ‘lights for men’, but what wolves ever
sought to win a torch? The only wolves he knew of were the ones who
came down from the mountains in the harshest winters, consuming sheep
and shepherd before them. Those wolves he knew. Well, them and Skalli
and Hatti, those wolves whom the tales said lived in the sky and…he had it!
With a trembling sigh of relief, Kraki said, “Good is your riddle, Eater
of the Dead, and guessed it is: that is the Sun. He lights all the world and
shines on all men; but there are two wolves, Skalli and Hatti they are
hight, one of whom goes before and the other follows the sun.”
The crow-thing cawed and awwked so loudly that Kraki had to press
his fists against his ears to drown out that hideous cacophony. With its
beak, the carrion eater shredded bodies and hurled the pieces into the new-
dawning sky. Kraki was caught in a rain of blood and severed extremities.
The thing stopped its gory tantrum and turned on the youth.
“Wouldst best me, booooy?” it cried. “Thinkest thou to be my master?”
And hopping eerily from one sharp-taloned foot to the next, it advanced
murderously upon him.
His fear melting away to rage, Kraki stood and shouted, “Fog, ice, and
sun your answers be, dread Lord of Crows, and to fog, ice, and sun you
shall answer. Fog shroud you, ice freeze you, and sun scorch you should
you break faith with me and shatter our accord! By the most ancient laws,
you know that my curse rings true. Now. Tell me where lies the sword that
is mine by right of conquest?”
The crow-thing halted its fell charge, trembling from beak-tip to tail-
feather.
“Thou hast the right of it, booooy. Thou hast fairly won our riddling.
Bend thine head close and lend an attentive ear to my words.”
Casting aside his fears, Kraki listened to the crow-lord, and his eyes
grew wide in wonder at what he heard.

52
 Legal Appendix
Designation of Product Identity: The following items are hereby designated as Contributors grant You a perpetual, worldwide, royalty-free, non-exclusive license
Product Identity as provided in section 1(e) of the Open Game License: Any and with the exact terms of this License to Use, the Open Game Content.
all material or content that could be claimed as Product Identity pursuant to section 5. Representation of Authority to Contribute: If You are contributing original
1(e), below, is hereby claimed as product identity, including but not limited to: 1. material as Open Game Content, You represent that Your Contributions are Your
The name “Frog God Games” as well as all logos and identifying marks of Frog original creation and/or You have sufficient rights to grant the rights conveyed by
God Games, LLC, including but not limited to the Frog God logo and the phrase this License.
“Adventures worth winning,” as well as the trade dress of Frog God Games prod- 6. Notice of License Copyright: You must update the COPYRIGHT NOTICE por-
ucts; 2. The product name “The Northlands Saga,” “The Northlands Saga Com- tion of this License to include the exact text of the COPYRIGHT NOTICE of any
plete,” as well as any and all Frog God Games product names referenced in the Open Game Content You are copying, modifying or distributing, and You must add
work; 3. All artwork, illustration, graphic design, maps, and cartography, including the title, the copyright date, and the copyright holder’s name to the COPYRIGHT
any text contained within such artwork, illustration, maps or cartography; 4. The NOTICE of any original Open Game Content you Distribute.
proper names, personality, descriptions and/or motivations of all artifacts, char- 7. Use of Product Identity: You agree not to Use any Product Identity, includ-
acters, races, countries, geographic locations, plane or planes of existence, gods, ing as an indication as to compatibility, except as expressly licensed in another,
deities, events, magic items, organizations and/or groups unique to this book, but independent Agreement with the owner of each element of that Product Identity.
not their stat blocks or other game mechanic descriptions (if any), and also exclud- You agree not to indicate compatibility or co-adaptability with any Trademark or
ing any such names when they are included in monster, spell or feat names. 5. Any Registered Trademark in conjunction with a work containing Open Game Content
other content previously designated as Product Identity is hereby designated as except as expressly licensed in another, independent Agreement with the owner of
Product Identity and is used with permission and/or pursuant to license. such Trademark or Registered Trademark. The use of any Product Identity in Open
This printing is done under version 1.0a of the Open Game License, below. Game Content does not constitute a challenge to the ownership of that Product
Notice of Open Game Content: This product contains Open Game Content, as Identity. The owner of any Product Identity used in Open Game Content shall retain
defined in the Open Game License, below. Open Game Content may only be Used all rights, title and interest in and to that Product Identity.
under and in terms of the Open Game License. 8. Identification: If you distribute Open Game Content You must clearly indicate
Designation of Open Game Content: Subject to the Product Identity Designation which portions of the work that you are distributing are Open Game Content.
herein, the following material is designated as Open Game Content. (1) all monster 9. Updating the License: Wizards or its designated Agents may publish updated
statistics, descriptions of special abilities, and sentences including game mechanics versions of this License. You may use any authorized version of this License to
such as die rolls, probabilities, and/or other material required to be open game con- copy, modify and distribute any Open Game Content originally distributed under
tent as part of the game rules, or previously released as Open Game Content, (2) all any version of this License.
portions of spell descriptions that include rules-specific definitions of the effect of 10. Copy of this License: You MUST include a copy of this License with every
the spells, and all material previously released as Open Game Content, (3) all other copy of the Open Game Content You Distribute.
descriptions of game-rule effects specifying die rolls or other mechanic features of 11. Use of Contributor Credits: You may not market or advertise the Open Game
the game, whether in traps, magic items, hazards, or anywhere else in the text, (4) Content using the name of any Contributor unless You have written permission
all previously released Open Game Content, material required to be Open Game from the Contributor to do so.
Content under the terms of the Open Game License, and public domain material 12. Inability to Comply: If it is impossible for You to comply with any of the terms
anywhere in the text. of this License with respect to some or all of the Open Game Content due to statute,
Use of Content from Tome of Horrors Complete: This product contains or refer- judicial order, or governmental regulation then You may not Use any Open Game
ences content from the Tome of Horrors Complete and/or other monster Tomes by Material so affected.
Frog God Games. Such content is used by permission and an abbreviated Section 13. Termination: This License will terminate automatically if You fail to comply
15 entry has been approved. Citation to monsters from the Tome of Horrors Com- with all terms herein and fail to cure such breach within 30 days of becoming aware
plete or other monster Tomes must be done by citation to that original work. of the breach. All sublicenses shall survive the termination of this License.
OPEN GAME LICENSE Version 1.0a The following text is the property of Wiz- 14. Reformation: If any provision of this License is held to be unenforceable, such
ards of the Coast, Inc. and is Copyright 2000 Wizards of the Coast, Inc. (“Wiz- provision shall be reformed only to the extent necessary to make it enforceable.
ards”). All Rights Reserved. 15. COPYRIGHT NOTICE
1. Definitions: (a) “Contributors” means the copyright and/or trademark owners Open Game License v 1.0a Copyright 2000, Wizards of the Coast, Inc.
who have contributed Open Game Content; (b) “Derivative Material” means copy- System Reference Document Copyright 2000. Wizards of the Coast, Inc; Authors
righted material including derivative works and translations (including into other Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, Skip Williams, based on material by E. Gary Gygax
computer languages), potation, modification, correction, addition, extension, up- and Dave Arneson.
grade, improvement, compilation, abridgment or other form in which an existing Pathfinder RPG Core Rulebook Copyright 2009, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Author:
work may be recast, transformed or adapted; (c) “Distribute” means to reproduce, Jason Bulmahn, based on material by Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, and Skip Wil-
license, rent, lease, sell, broadcast, publicly display, transmit or otherwise distrib- liams.
ute; (d) “Open Game Content” means the game mechanic and includes the meth- The Book of Experimental Might Copyright 2008, Monte J. Cook. All rights re-
ods, procedures, processes and routines to the extent such content does not embody served.
the Product Identity and is an enhancement over the prior art and any additional Pathfinder RPG Bestiary, © 2009, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Author: Jason Bulmahn,
content clearly identified as Open Game Content by the Contributor, and means any based on material by Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, and Skip Williams.
work covered by this License, including translations and derivative works under Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Bestiary 2, © 2010, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Authors
copyright law, but specifically excludes Product Identity; (e) “Product Identity” Wolfgang Baur, Jason Bulmahn, Adam Daigle, Graeme Davis, Crystal Frasier,
means product and product line names, logos and identifying marks including trade Joshua J. Frost, Tim Hitchcock, Brandon Hodge, James Jacobs, Steve Kenson, Hal
dress; artifacts; creatures; characters; stories, storylines, plots, thematic elements, MacLean, Martin Mason, Rob McCreary, Erik Mona, Jason Nelson, Patrick Renie,
dialogue, incidents, language, artwork, symbols, designs, depictions, likenesses, Sean K Reynolds, F. Wesley Schneider, Owen K.C. Stephens, James L. Sutter, Russ
formats, poses, concepts, themes and graphic, photographic and other visual or Taylor, and Greg A. Vaughan, based on material by Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook,
audio representations; names and descriptions of characters, spells, enchantments, and Skip Williams.
personalities, teams, personas, likenesses and special abilities; places, locations, Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Bestiary 3, © 2011, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Au-
environments, creatures, equipment, magical or supernatural abilities or effects, thors Jesse Benner, Jason Bulmahn, Adam Daigle, James Jacobs, Michael Kenway,
logos, symbols, or graphic designs; and any other trademark or registered trade- Rob McCreary, Patrick Renie, Chris Sims, F. Wesley Schneider, James L. Sutter,
mark clearly identified as Product identity by the owner of the Product Identity, and Russ Taylor, based on material by Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, and Skip
and which specifically excludes the Open Game Content; (f) “Trademark” means Williams.
the logos, names, mark, sign, motto, designs that are used by a Contributor to iden- Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Bestiary 4, © 2013, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Au-
tify itself or its products or the associated products contributed to the Open Game thors Dennis Baker, Jesse Benner, Savannah Broadway, Ross Byers, Adam Daigle,
License by the Contributor; (g) “Use”, “Used” or “Using” means to use, Distrib- Tim Hitchcock, Tracy Hurley, James Jacobs, Matt James, Rob McCreary, Jason
ute, copy, edit, format, modify, translate and otherwise create Derivative Material Nelson, Tom Phillips, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Sean K Reynolds, F. Wesley
of Open Game Content; (h) “You” or “Your” means the licensee in terms of this Schneider, Tork Shaw, and Russ Taylor.
agreement. Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Ultimate Magic. © 2011, Paizo Publishing, LLC;
2. The License: This License applies to any Open Game Content that contains a Authors: Jason Bulmahn, Tim Hitchcock, Colin McComb, Rob McCreary, Jason
notice indicating that the Open Game Content may only be Used under and in terms Nelson, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Sean K Reynolds, Owen K.C. Stephens, and
of this License. You must affix such a notice to any Open Game Content that you Russ Taylor.
Use. No terms may be added to or subtracted from this License except as described Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Ultimate Combat. © 2011, Paizo Publishing, LLC;
by the License itself. No other terms or conditions may be applied to any Open Authors: Jason Bulmahn, Tim Hitchcock, Colin McComb, Rob McCreary, Jason
Game Content distributed using this License. Nelson, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Sean K Reynolds, Owen K.C. Stephens, and
3. Offer and Acceptance: By Using the Open Game Content You indicate Your Russ Taylor.
acceptance of the terms of this License. Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Ultimate Campaign © 2013, Paizo Publishing,
4. Grant and Consideration: In consideration for agreeing to use this License, the LLC; Authors: Jesse Benner, Benjamin Bruck, Jason Bulmahn, Ryan Costello,

53
 Legal Appendix
Adam Daigle, Matt Goetz, Tim Hitchcock, James Jacobs, Ryan Maklin, Colin Mc- LLC; Author: Neil Spicer.Pathfinder Campaign Setting: The Inner Sea World
Comb, Jason Nelson, Richard Pett, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Patrick Renie, Guide © 2011, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Authors: Keith Baker, Wolfgang Baur,
Sean K Reynolds, F. Wesley Schneider, James L. Sutter, Russ Taylor, and Stephen Clinton J. Boomer, Jason Bulmahn, Joshua J. Frost, Ed Greenwood, Stephen S.
Townshend. Greer, Jeff Grubb, James Jacobs, Michael Kortes, Tito Leati, Mike McArtor, Rob
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Ultimate Equipment © 2012, Paizo Publishing, McCreary, Erik Mona, Jason Eric Nelson, Jeff Quick, Sean K Reynolds, F. Wesley
LLC; Authors: Dennis Baker, Jesse Benner, Benjamin Bruck, Ross Byers, Brian Schneider, Leandra Christine Schneider, David Schwartz, Amber E. Scott, Stan!,
J. Cortijo, Ryan Costello, Mike Ferguson, Matt Goetz, Jim Groves, Tracy Hurley, Owen K.C. Stephens, Todd Stewart, James L. Sutter, Greg A. Vaughan, Jeremy
Matt James, Jonathan H. Keith, Michael Kenway, Hal MacLean, Jason Nelson, Walker, and JD Wiker.
Tork Shaw, Owen KC Stephens, and Russ Taylor. Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Irrisen, Land of Eternal Winter © 2013, Paizo
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Player’s Guide. Copyright 2010, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Author: Mike Shel.
Publishing, LLC; Author: Jason Bulmahn. Advanced Bestiary Copyright 2004, Green Ronin Publishing, LLC; Author Mat-
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Race Guide. Copyright 2012, Paizo thew Sernett
Publishing, LLC; Authors: Dennis Baker, Jesse Benner, Benjamin Bruck, Jason Advanced Bestiary Copyright 2014, Green Ronin Publishing, LLC; Author Jeff
Bulmahn, Adam Daigle, Jim Groves, Tim Hitchcock, Hal MacLean, Jason Nel- Hersh, Developer Owen K.C. Stephens.
son, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Owen K.C. Stephens, Todd Stewart, and Russ Northlands © 2011, Open Design LLC; Author: Dan Voyce; www.koboldquarter-
Taylor. ly.com.
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Advanced Class Guide. Copyright 2014, Paizo Bard’s Gate Copyright 2006 Necromancer Games, Inc.; Authors Clark Peterson,
Inc.; Authors: Dennis Baker, Ross Byers, Jesse Benner, Savannah Broadway, Jason Casey Christofferson and Shane Glodoski based on original material created by
Bulmahn, Jim Groves, Tim Hitchcock, Tracy Hurley, Jonathan H. Keith, Will Mc- Clark Peterson and Bill Webb.
Cardell, Dale C. McCoy, Jr., Tom Phillips, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Thomas Dunes of Desolation © 2014, Frog God Games LLC; Author: Tom Knauss.
M. Reid, Sean K Reynolds, Tork Shaw, Owen K.C. Stephens, and Russ Taylor. NS1: Vengeance of the Long Serpent, Copyright 2010, Frog God Games, Author:
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game GameMastery Guide, © 2010 Paizo Publishing, Kenneth Spencer.
LLC; Authors Cam Banks, Wolfgang Baur, Jason Buhlman, Jim Butler, Eric Cagle, NS2: Beyond the Wailing Mountains, Copyright 2011, Frog God Games, Author:
Graeme Davis, Adam Daigle, Jashua J. Frost, James Jacobs, Kenneth Hite, Steven Kenneth Spencer.
Kenson, Robin Laws, Tito Leati, Rob McCreart, Hal Maclean, Colin McComb, NS3: The Death Curse of Sven Oakenfist, Copyright 2011, Frog God Games,
Jason Nelson, David Noonan, Richard Pett, Rich Redman, Sean K Reynolds, Author: Kenneth Spencer.
F. Wesley Schneider, Amber Scott, Doug Seacat, Mike Selinker, Lisa Stevens, NS4: Blood on the Snow, Copyright 2011, Frog God Games, Author: Kenneth
James L Sutter, Russ Taylor, Penny Williams, Teeuwynn Woodruff. Pathfi nder Spencer.
Chronicles: Classic Treasures Revisited. Copyright 2010, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Tome of Horrors Copyright 2002, Necromancer Games, Inc.; Authors: Scott
Authors: Jacob Burgess, Brian Cortijo, Jonathan H. Keith, Michael Kortes, Jeff Greene, with Clark Peterson, Erica Balsley, Kevin Baase, Casey Christofferson,
Quick, Amber Scott, Todd Stewart, and Russ Taylor. Lance Hawvermale, Travis Hawvermale, Patrick Lawinger, and Bill Webb; Based
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game NPC Codex © 2012, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Au- on original content from TSR.
thors: Jesse Benner, Jason Bulmahn, Adam Daigle, Alex Greenshields, Rob Mc- The Tome of Horrors Complete, Copyright 2011, Necromancer Games, Inc.,
Creary, Mark Moreland, Jason Nelson, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Patrick Re- published and distributed by Frog God Games; Author Scott Green.
nie, Sean K Reynolds, and Russ Taylor. Tome of Horrors 4, Copyright 2013, Frog God Games, LLC; Authors: Erica
Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Monster Codex © 2014, Paizo Inc.; Authors: Den- Balsley, Casey Christofferson, Jim Collura, Lance Hawvermale, Patrick Lawinger,
nis Baker, Jesse Benner, Logan Bonner, Jason Bulmahn, Ross Byers, John Comp- Phillip Larwood, Greg A. Vaughan, and Bill Webb, based on material by Jonathan
ton, Robert N. Emerson, Jonathan H. Keith, Dale C McCoy, Jr., Mark Moreland, Tweet, Monte Cook, and Skip Williams.
Tom Phillips, Stephen Radney-MacFarland, Sean K Reynolds, Thomas M. Reid, The Lost Lands: The Northlands Saga Complete © 2015, Frog God Games, LLC;
Patrick Renie, Mark Seifter, Tork Shaw, Neil Spicer, Owen K.C. Stephens, and Authors: Kenneth Spencer, Greg A. Vaughan, and Kevin Wright.
Russ Taylor. The Northlands Saga Complete Player’s Guide © 2016, Frog God Games, LLC;
Pathfinder Adventure Path volume #32: Rivers Run Red © 2010, Paizo Publish- Authors: Kenneth Spencer, John Bennett, Jeff Provine, Nathan Shank, Greg A.
ing, LLC; Author: Rob McCreary. Vaughan, and Kevin Wright.
Pathfinder Adventure Path #58: Island of Empty Eyes © 2012, Paizo Publishing,

54
 Other Products from Frog God Games
You can find these product lines and more at our website, froggodgames.com, and on the shelves of many retail game stores.
Superscripts indicate the available game systems: “PF” means the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game, “5e” means Fifth Edition,
and “S&W” means Swords & Wizardry. If there is no superscript it means that it is not specific to a single rule system.
GENERAL RESOURCES LL3: Sword of Air PF, S&W
LL4: Cults of the Sundered Kingdoms PF, S&W
Swords & Wizardry Complete S&W LL5: Borderland Provinces 5e, PF, S&W
The Tome of Horrors Complete PF, S&W LL6: The Northlands Saga Complete PF, S&W
Tome of Horrors 4 PF, S&W LL7: The Blight* 5e, PF, S&W
Tome of Adventure Design LL8: Bard’s Gate Complete* 5e, PF, S&W
Monstrosities S&W LL9: Adventures in the Borderland Provinces 5e, PF, S&W
Bill Webb’s Book of Dirty Tricks
Razor Coast: Fire as She Bears PF
Book of Lost Spells 5e QUESTS OF DOOM
Fifth Edition Foes 5e
Book of Alchemy* 5e, PF, S&W Quests of Doom (Vol. 1) 5e
Quests of Doom (Vol. 2) 5e
THE LOST LANDS Quests of Doom (includes the 5e Vol. 1 and 2, but for PF
and S&W only) PF, S&W
Rappan Athuk PF, S&W Quests of Doom 2 5e
Rappan Athuk Expansions Vol. I PF, S&W Quests of Doom 3* 5e, S&W
The Slumbering Tsar Saga PF, S&W Quests of Doom 4* 5e, PF, S&W
The Black Monastery PF, S&W
Cyclopean Deeps Vol. I PF, S&W
Cyclopean Deeps Vol. II PF, S&W PERILOUS VISTAS
Razor Coast PF, S&W
Razor Coast: Heart of the Razor PF, S&W Dead Man’s Chest (pdf only) PF
Razor Coast: Freebooter’s Guide to the Razor Coast PF, S&W Dunes of Desolation PF
LL0: The Lost Lands Campaign Setting* Fields of Blood PF
LL1: Stoneheart Valley PF, S&W Mountains of Madness* PF
LL2: The Lost City of Barakus PF, S&W

* (forthcoming from Frog God Games)

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