Chapter 3: Fallen Friends : Ingvar, Gaeirmund, Gudrun

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Eight Viking men and one witch stood huffing and panting at the edge of the mountains bordering the shores of Helluland. They had run a full mile and a half to escape the metamorphing monsters that had attacked and sunk the Icebreaker; killing or carrying off most of its crew. Now there was finally peace and silence as they were given the opportunity to catch their breath.

Ingvar only recognized four of the faces.


Melkorka, the hag and master of the 18 rune stones. Great care should be taken when dealing with her. Ingvar knew her to take men to her bed chambers as punishment for their insubordinance.



Tristan, the mountaineer. Ingvar had left him stranded on the Icebreaker as he went back for his second bag of much needed supplies.



Logain, Captain Gunharr’s military advisor. He had narrowly escaped Kor-Gamon after Orm had been swallowed whole by the massive Killer Whale.



Oddlog, a Viking bezerker. Ingvar had exchanged much more than words with Oddlog aboard the Icebreaker. Oddlog was identified as one of the chosen ones by Melkorka. The witch believes that one of the men in the prison hold that day would decide the fate of all the Vikings on Helluland. His partner in debauchery Hildegarr is nowhere to be seen. The last time Ingvar had seen Oddlog and Hildegarr they were suspended some 15 ft in the air, tied off to one of the ship masts as Kor-Gamon in whale form thrashed them about like rag dolls. It appears Hildegarr did not survive the encounter.

The other 4 Vikings were unfamiliar to Ingvar. So many drunken nights at sea had blended all their faces into one hazy blurry stranger rowing by night and by day.

Tristan, breathing hard, began to uncoil some rope and dug through a small sack he had managed to ferry to shore on his back. He shivered uncontrollably as he lectured Ingvar.

This is not enough to c…. c….carry us through the mountains. Ingvar, damn your hide… I asked you to w…w…wait for me… We n…. n….eeded to get the c.. climbing gear to shore. N…Now… We’re d….d….d…doomed.

The spell Melkorka had casted on the crew of the Icebreaker was beginning to wear off. The bitter cold began to nip at their soaking wet clothing. They would all die soon from hypothermia soon if a fire was not lit.

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"Stop whining Tristan you little girl before i skin you as a coat."
Ingvar horks a bloody mass in the snow.

"Witch!" "You there, witch!"
"You better have a flint box in your bag of tricks or we're all going to die"

"You men come with me", he says to 3 of the unfamiliar vikings. "We're going to collect wood, and maybe scout out a nice cave to call our own."

"The rest of you, if you hear screaming it means we're already dead. Don't be a hero and come looking for us, just someone kill this bastard for me" Ingvar says, pointing to Oddlog.

"Let's go."

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Oddlog grunts and looks at Ingvar with wild eyes as he sits shivering on the snow.

The 3 Vikings do as they are told and Melkorka busies herself with some old thick pieces of bark. She scratches runes and cackles quietly to herself as she carves.

Ingvar sees no trees as he scans the horizon. Not a single spec of vegetation. There is a reason the Vikings had called this place Helluland. “Land of Flat Rocks”
After a short search, Ingvar finds a large cash of driftwood further up the shore, well away from the frightening beasts and terrible seas of Kor-Gamon. The three Vikings take an immediate liking to Ingvar. Either that or are simply taking his orders like good Viking soldiers.

When Ingvar returns with enough wood for a few hours of burning, Melkorka is speaking softly with Oddlog and Tristan is still making an inventory of their climbing equipment.

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"Witch! Get that spark ready"

"YAaa.. this is good.. " Ingvar mutters to himself as he starts to arrange wood in a campfire. "this is gonna feel gooood, gather round boys"

"Tomorrow we're going to have to hunt, or else find some natives to plunder, maybe up in those hills. We wont survive long out here alone"

"You and you" Ingvar points to the two vikings who didn't help collect wood "You have first watch, you have second watch. I'll take the third. Watch for red demon eyes stalking you in the night... heh heh."

"Sleep well boys"

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Melkorka raises a fire with her magic rune stones and then begins to toss an assortment of sparkling gems around the party’s camp.

As long as the fire burns bright no creature other than man shall pass by the sparkle of these stones.



When the fire is lit and the witch’s magic has been set in their defense, Melkorka calls Oddlog and Ingvar away from the other sleeping Vikings. Logain, Tristan and the others sleep peacefully while the witch speaks softly with the two Viking rivals.

You two are destined to kill one another and this pleases you both, does it not. I have seen your battle mirrored in countless sagas. One will live and one will die, but not today. Not until I discover the identity of the chosen one. He who will run with the giants and dine with the gods. Ride with the Valkryes and whisper skraeling secrets with the godess of the sea.

Melkorka looks at Ingvar and licks her lips in a manner that could only be described as sexual.

I know others have survived the sinking of the Icebreaker and the attack by those red- eyed devils. My bard Alrik still yet lives as I can feel his magic. He is many miles inland from here, beyond even the mountains around us. How he traveled so far in so short a time I am dumbfounded to say. I can also sense the presence of familiar magics and magics I have never felt before. I will leave our path to you… Ingvar and Oddlog… chosen of the Norse clan. I know the way as it is carved in blood and rune on the wall of destiny. It is unwise, however, for a wisdom to choose for her people when she can see all possible futures before her. Do you understand?

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Melkorka looks at Ingvar and licks her lips in a manner that could only be described as sexual.

Ingvar's screwed uglier and older bitches than this. He'll keep it in the back of his mind, in case Helluland gets the best of him.

Ingvar squints and scratches his head, trying hard to understand what the fuck the old woman is talking about. He shakes his head and grunts and stands.

"You heard her old man... you're gonna diiiie. Not yet. BUT SOON!"

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Oddlog growls at Ingvar’s words but doesn’t speak with much confidence… A giant bite-mark from the Killer Whlae Gorgamaon still fresh on his chest… itching and swelling its way to an infectious nightmare.

We’ll see whose axe ends up in whose gut boy!

The Vikings warm themselves by the fire for a few hours, allowing their clothing to dry. The light hours fade quickly as the sun falls behind the mountains. Tristan is first to wake from their short slumber. He takes out the map of Helluland and spreads it out in front of the fire for anyone who wishes to look at.

He takes out a pen and quill and begins to scratch out locations.

He marks an X. close to the shore on the east side of the Island.

He then circles another spot further west along the same shoreline.

The Horned Helm was supposed to anchor here and clear the area of any Skraeling settlements. We were meant to rendezvous with the Horned Helm and escort them into the mountains. We missed out mark by 20 miles cuz of them damn sea monsters. What say you Ingvar… Oddlog… We could walk along the shore and hope to catch them or try and head them off through the mountains. Melkorka seems to be thinking you should be calling the shots. I couldn’t give a fuck which way we go. With the supplies we got, we’ll be lucky to make it through the night.

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Ingvar scratches his head and wishes he wasn't so stupid.

The Horned Helm is surely on the bottom of the sea, her crew in the bellies of those demons. They wont be waiting on the beach anyway, not with those bastards running around. We'll head to the mountains and try to find some people.

Our only hope of surviving is to steal some food from the natives.

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Oddlog nods his head.

Ingvar is as dumb as he is ugly… But he is right! We must find the skraelings and steal their food and take their women…

Tristan agrees and Melkorka grins, pleased that her chosen ones are finding some common ground. The witch spreads out a black leather roll onto the ice. She reaches into her pouch and tosses six grey stones onto the leather roll. The stones are etched with runes. Once they have settled, Melkorka rolls her eyes into the back of her head and chants in Old Icelandic.

Finally after an uncomfortable silence the witch raises her head and speaks.

We must follow the sea westward. This will lead us to the Thule…. The gods have warned me… They are ready for us!

Tristan begins to inventory their supplies again as the rest of the group warms themselves by the fire.

Oddlog sits down next to Ingvar.

Ingvar… you are a cunt and I look forward to the day when my axe crushes your skull. I hope your friends are all dead and lie rotting at the bottom of the sea. That said, do you think we should do as the witch says and walk the shoreline? She is also a cunt and I don’t want to risk what few men we have left in another fight with those shape shifting sons of bitches.

The witch chuckles off in the distance…

He He He He He!

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We must find a village in this barren desert of ice and rock, or we will surely die. I would much rather fight a retard like you than those those shape shifters again, but I believe the witch can lead us to Thule. We will follow the sea as she said.

"MEN!!! Get ready to move!! And keep your eyes pealed lads, for we may face the demons of Helluland soon"

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Logain stands and begins to strap his armour. He looks out over the remaining Vikings, sitting weary around the fire, cut bruised



You heard em yah bunch of lazy cunts... get up and count yourselves!

The Vikings rise and begin to walk, the sea just in sight over their left shoulders. Melkorka lags behind with Oddlog, speaking in hushed voices and looking often to the sea. Every so often Ingvar hears Oddlog shouting and swearing her way. He turns to see the brute swing wide for the witch but she was quick and spry for a woman her age and Melkorka was soon back at his side whispering unkown evils.

Logain has taken point with two other Viking soldiers. He was quick to command and the men respected him, but he was no leader. He lacked imagination.

Tristan the mountaineer, walked beside Ingvar and was silent for the first hour of their long walk to the Thule lands. He seemed deeply troubled.



Your friends were killed by those creatures weren't they? Sigfurd and Weoulf was it?

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Your friends were killed by those creatures weren't they? Sigfurd and Weoulf was it?

Ingvar only grunts an acknowledgement at the mention of his dead friends. If their demise is affecting him, he doesn't let it show. Eventually he takes notice of Tristan. "You seem troubled brother... and rightfully so! For we are all dead men." he slaps him on the back "but not to worry! Dry clothes and a warm fire awaits us in Valhalla"

Ingvar continues to walk in silence, pausing only to observe the chaos between Oddlog and the witch, trying to decide which of the two he hates more. Maybe they'll strangle each other.

He keeps a wary eye on the sea, waiting for some fell creatures to crawl out of the depths.
His stomach growls.

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Tristan sighs….

We don’t have the equipment we need to travail the mountains. The witch said we were headed to Asgard. She jests of coarse… but if we are climbing…. most of our gear was left behind when the Icebreaker sunk. I’ve barely enough climbing gear for five let alone a Viking army.

High overhead a raven circles.

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"Hmmm..." Ingvar growls.

"Enough gear for five."
He glances around at the other Vikings.

"We may need to thin the herd. But don't worry brother, you will be the last one I kill"
Ingvar gives him a hearty slap of comradery.

"The raven circles us... it is a bad omen."

"WITCH!!! HOW FAR TO THE THULE LANDS?"

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The witch looks up to the sky and then hobbles up to Ingvar with that unnatural dexterity the Viking had noticed earlier on the Icebreaker. Tristan quickly leaves Ingvar's side, disgusted by the witch, and joins Logain.



Odin keeps a watchful eye on our progress my handsome chosen one. We must be on the right path if we draw the atttention of one of his foul Ravens.

She looks up at the sky and pulls a rune from the leather pouch at her side. Melkorka holds the rune to her eye and then passes it to Ingvar.

Muninn! The more mischievous of our God-King's black birds. Ignore him. He will no doubt try and lead us astray. Follow your heart Ingvar. The Thules are close and we will soon have all the provisions we require to complete our quest. Plus some Skraeling cunt for you and your men if you fancy that sort of thing. Or do you prefer boys chosen one. Whatever your wish... I will see it done!

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"You better be right witch - Food in my belly and cunny on my lap. Helluland owes us that much at least."

"PICK UP THE PACE LADS!!! WE'RE NEARING THULE. BE READY FOR ACTION."

Ingvar mutters a prayer to the gods, "with axe and spear I will disembowl the cowardly savages of this land"

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The group of tired and hungry Vikings walk for another hour or so... The terrain is flat and cold. The mouthans a few miles inland now seem even colder. Every so often Ingvar spots something big moving far off in Ocean. Ingvar squints his eyes and makes out a small pod of Orcas following them around a kilometer from the shorline.

Ingvar tries to remember why this migth be dangerous or important but he can't place it. Ever since the Icebreaker had mysteriously sunk, his memory was a little foggy. Still they were beautiful creatures, worth his attention.

ooc- Just so you know... Ingvar has no memory of the red eyed beasts that attacked him and killed his friends. The longer he went without speaking about it, the more hazy the memory got until it was finally gone altogether.

The Vikings came across some rocky terrain. Finally Tristan, now on point, stopped and crouched down motioning for Ingvar to approach.



Shhhh! Skraelings!

Ingvar and Oddlog both crawl up to Tristan, hiding behind some frozen clumps of driftwood along the beach.

He spots six Eskimo's carrying spears walking along the edge of the ocean. One of them is holding a giant Icelandic mare by its reins. The massive horse's rider is stripped and tied to it's back shivering in the freezing cold arctic wind.

Oddlog looks ot Ingvar and smiles, a crazed bloodlust in his eyes.



I'd say kill them all for anyone but you Ingvar! You glorious Fuck-Face!

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Ingvar hits the dirt. His heart is racing.

"We hit them", he whispers to Oddlog.

He gives the vikings behind him hand signals with military precision:
..stay low... ...get in front of them... ...wait for my order...

"Careful in there old man, wouldn't want to get your ugly face carved off"

Ingvar squirms through the rocky snowbank.

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Oddlog chuckles playfully with Ingvar. This was all just delightful foreplay to the Viking brawler before he was given the chance to shut Ingvar's mouth permanently with his axe.

Ingvar, now in the lead, spots some high rocks that lead close to the shoreline. There is a gap between them that they would have to cross. If they could reach the rocks the Skraelings would pass right by them.

Melkorka cackles...



What would you have us do chosen ones? Is the Iceland scum even worth saving. There is food and Skraeling whores spoiling as we speak...



ooc- roll Hide if you want to move to the rocks. Otherwise you will be attacking them from the snowbank as they spot you moving in. Some of the Vikings have bows as well. (Three)

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Ingvar signals the 3 archers to stay behind the snow bank. The rest including Oddlog and Melkora will follow him and try to cross the gap in the rocks to get in front of them. If they get spotted then Ingvar will charge straight at them.

"Valhalla awaits us comrades"

rolled 92 for hide