Ragnar Wolfsbane, Of Gods And Ashes

The deer was still breathing when Ragnar approached it. The arrow had pierced its heart, leaving the animal in agony.
"A perfect shot", he thought before slicing its throat and ending the beast's suffering.
It twitched a few times and finally gave in to death, letting out a big sigh, its blood tainting the snow around it.
The hunter overlooked his prey. He had tracked it for hours, fighting through the cold and fatigue armed with his determination and courage. A single arrow is all it took for him to claim his trophy. He put the corpse over his shoulders, and hurried back to the village for the scent of the deer's blood would surely attract wolves and other undesireable predators. The myst caused by the recent snowfall would not let him see very far, but the village's ever present smoking chimneys let him find the way back, even over the tall mountains surrounding it. The sun was closing on with the horizon when he finally reached his wooden cabin on the border of the village's valley, quite far from the rest of the houses and much closer to the woods than its safe to be.
He sat down at his table, breathing heavily. It pained him to see his body being past its prime. This brief moment of peace was interrupted by loud banging on the door, however.


Bjørn stood on the doorway, with a wide smile on his face and a bag over his shoulder. "How did the hunt go?"
Ragnar pointed at the deer laying on his table, ready to be butchered, and started to sharpen his skinning knives.
"Hey, thats big a one!" He exclaimed. "Where did you find one of these? I thought the herd had moved south, to the grassier lands".
"I have my methods", said the hunter as he took his now honed blades and got to work. He hung the deer by its rear legs, and skinned it, pulling down to the head. He removed the front legs and the neck with surgical precision followed by all of its organs. This went on for a few minutes, both men being completely silent during the process, until Ragnar was finally done. "Here", he shoved part of the meat to the side of the table. "Take this to the storehouse".
"Aha, nice", said Bjørn as he loaded his bag. "You ARE coming to tonight's feast, right?"
"No", he said as he sat down. "I am not".
"But its Thurseblot! In fact, the chief has sent me here just to invite you".
"Tell my brother", he said as he chucked logs of dry firewood into the fireplace, "that if he is going to give me the priviledge of being invited to the Great Hall, he can do so himself. Unlike him, I know how to honour our gods".
Bjørn lowered his voice. "The villagers are saying things about you, Ragnar. This lifestyle of yours, they don't trust it."
He stared him into the eyes, "And what do YOU think, Bjørn?"
"Me?" He looked over the old cabin, age had taken its toll on it as much as on its owner. "I think you're just an old man who is getting a bit too senile for his own good!" He laughed.
"Careful son", he slammed his knife hilt deep into the table, "my beard alone is worth more than half the village's men!"
"I wouldn't doubt it", he smiled. "Take care".
"You too". He went back to tending to his fireplace.
"Oh, by the way," he stopped before opening the door, "have you seen anything unusual near the northern passage while up on the mountains?"
"No", he turned around. "Why?"
"Well, Olaf saw something while on patrol yesterday. A band of horsemen, he said."
"I haven't seen anything like that today. Is the chief doing anything about it?"
"Patrols are to be reinforced and their rate doubled. Personally", he shrugged,"I don't think its anything worth worrying about. Likely another lost merchant caravan for the wolves to feast upon". A loud sound of a door closing marked Bjørn's exit.
"A caravan, huh?" said the hunter as he stared into the fire, now even more alight than before.



Music and shouting were coming from the Great Hall, the only house with its torches lit at this point of the night, and with good reason. The entire village was there, celebrating the Thurseblot, Thor's feast, when his power is invoked to drive back the frost giants so that spring may return to Midgard. Nobody cared about the old traditions though.
The hall reeked of sin and immorality, men drowning themselves with mead, half of them too drunk to stay awake and the other half in such a state that they could no longer be considered human beings. The women on the other hand, were dancing half naked on top of comatose alcoholics while doing unspeakable things with eachother. The chief himself was being smothered by two wenches, with a third one bathing him in liters of mead.
The party was interrupted by Ragnar slamming the doors open. "Is this how we pay homage to our Gods now?" It was followed by complete silence, as he approached the throne at the end of the building, looking over the villagers with disgust.
"Ragnar! Welcome! I see you finally accepted my invitation to join us in our festivities. Move over, you harlot!" He shoved one of the girls off his right seat. "Come, sit by my side", he said, smiling widely.
"I am here on important matters, Loknar. I have... seen something", he said as he sat down next to him.
"Look, whatever that whore has told you is a complete lie. The horse clearly wanted it and I-"
Ragnar didn't let him finish that phrase, for his own sake. "No, Gods no. I honestly don't care about what you do in your free time. No, I had a vision. A warning".
The chief looked over his brother, bewildered. "Have you been smoking that stuff again? I know you spend the entire day in the woods but thats clearly not the way to pass time."
"By Sleipnir, will you listen to me for once?!" The hunter exclaimed. "I performed a sacrifice in honour of Thor earlier today, at the sacred hörg to the north. I still haven't decided if He has chosen to bless or damn me with a vision of our eventual downfall". He paused. "I saw the village burning, Loknar. Every cottage, cabin and hut being reduced to ashes, even the Great Hall."
"Bah", the chief spat on the ground, "you still do that stuff, all that sacrificing deal. This is why the villagers don't trust you. You still cling to the stupid old traditions. Bullshit, all of it".
"You have grown bold, Loknar", he stood up. "Bold and foolish".
"I could have you beheaded for that, you know", he said as he reached for another chicken leg.
Ragnar looked at the guard next to him, laying on the ground and choking on his own vomit. "I don't think any of your beheaders are in condition of doing any beheading". He slammed the table with his hands, "Look, I know this is somehow related to the horsemen Olaf saw the other day! You must take the necessary precautions."
"And I did! Will you relax, and have a good time for once in your life?" He passed him a drinking horn, "for once, I agree with Bjørn's position on this matter". He pointed at the man dancing cheerfully on a table.
"And of course, your advisors are the finest ones in a hundred mile radius. So, will you not take heed of my warning?"
"I believe I was pretty clear when I called it bullshit".
"We have nothing further to discuss then". Ragnar emptied the horn like a man who hasn't drank anything for ages and left the hall.



Warning warhorns. Their dreadful sound echoed like a scream in a forest, waking the entire village up. Ragnar ran to the town center, near the massive wooden front gates where most of the villagers were already at. The guardsmen ontop of the watchtowers blew their horns one last time, as if everyone hasn't heard them by then.
Loknar arrived hurriedly, still hangover and groggy from last night. "Open the gates!" He ordered. It is to be of note, that this was the only proper entrance to the town, an area completely surrounded by mountains, woods and wildlife, essentially impassable to anyone without prior knowledge to what those areas contain and how they are structured.
A group of men unblocked the gates, and they opened with a creaking sound. A small band of riders stood on the other side of the gates consisting of no more than ten men, all but one of them fully clad in black plate mail, armed with swords and shields decorated with a strange symbol which piqued Ragnar's curiosity. It depicted a waxing, full and waning moon, with a large white rose in the middle. The man leading them wasn't wearing any armour, instead he wore long silver robes portraying the same symbol as the knights, he was also wielding a long staff with a large white jewel on top of it, presumably a priest.
Him and two of the knights slowly advanced through the gates towards the large mass of townspeople, who made space for them without saying a word. The priest slowly got off his horse, and spoke loudly. "I would like to have the honour of meeting your leader, if that is possible".
Loknar made a step forward, axe in hand "That would be me, Loknar Wolfsbane, and you have about 5 minutes to explain just who the hell you are".
"But of course! My name is Ahmad al-Abbas and we are missionaries of the Church of The Battle Maiden Mysthalla, spreading the words of her holy book in the northlands."
"Missionaries eh? Well, you won't find anything of interest here, might as well leave now".
"Well, you won't mind us staying here for a short period at least?" The other knights advanced slowly behind the priest. "The trek across the northlands is a long and treacherous one and surely someone as generous as you won't mind us setting camp in the valley, at least until the horses are well rested".
"Eh, suit yourselves." The chief shrugged. "Abide to the rules and we will get along just fine".
"Hey", Ragnar prodded him. "Are you sure about this? I don't trust them".
"They are missionaries! Whats the worst thing they can do? Bore us to death?" He chuckled.
"Its settled then, thank you, sire." The priest went to set camp along with other knights, who had already started the process.
"Bah". The hunter left in direction of the eastern woods, hoping to get his mind off this whole affair, something that only hunting could achieve at this moment. The concentration and patience required, the adrenaline it produced, the intensity of the chase and the satisfaction of finally seizing the prey. Ragnar loved every minute of it. He trekked through the forest for hours, before he finally found something that appeared to be a trail. A few hoofprints on the snow and some fresh dung showed the recent passing of an adult deer. The prints went further into the woods, suddenly zigzagging between the trees as if it was being chased by something. He followed them for about half a mile until reaching the top of a small hill. At the bottom of the slope, next to one of the few rivers that werent frozen yet, he saw a young deer drinking the fresh mountain water. Ragnar readied an arrow and aimed at the beasts heart. As he was about to release it, though, a shuffling sound coming from the bushes near the deer disturbed his concentration. A white wolf lunged itself on top of the animal, ripping its throat out in an instant, soon followed by the rest of the pack, counting five beasts total. The alpha male stared at the hunter, letting out a loud growl, before going back to devouring its meal.
Ragnar watched over this scene for a while. Bad omen, he thought. The darkened sky marked that it was time to leave, even if that meant leaving empty handed.
It was nightfall by the time he reached the village, and as usual, the only torches lit apart from the ones at the watchtowers, were the ones at the Great Hall. As he made his way to the cabin, a couple of knights stopped him on his way.
"Hey, shouldn't you be at the Great Hall with the rest? Brother Ahmad is giving a lecture right now".
"Not interested". He attempted to avoid them.
The bigger one put his hand on Ragnar's shoulder. "I believe you would find it _very_ interesting".
"And I believe", he said as he put his hand on his sword, "that you would find a blade in your spleen very interesting".
The knight looked nervously at his partner, who just shrugged and motioned for him to come. Both men walked away silently.
"Damned zealots".

A week passed, and the missionaries had not left. The lectures became more frequent, with always more people listening to them and praising the priest. They even started handing out "initiate robes" for the new believers, who wore them proudly.
"Loknar!" The hunter exclaimed when he saw his brother with a white rose on his chest. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" Ragnar had never heard him so calm.
"This." He pointed at the Mysthallan symbol. "Are their words charming like a siren's song, that they even made YOU forget hundreds of years of tradition and faith?"
"Its not that. Their goddess, she is merciful and cruel. Forgiving and just. Strong and firm. Its.. difficult to explain". He went quiet and looked into the sky for a moment. "You'd know this if you would actually hear what they have to say. And now she is our goddess. we are leaving for one of the Mysthallan monasteries to the south, to continue serving the maiden from there".
"You can't be serious! You're abandoning the village? Does this new goddess mean so much to you, to not only abandon your faith but to abandon everything we've worked so hard for?"
"Open your eyes, brother! The old gods have abandoned us. Where were they during the Hrarrk invasion? Where were they when the wolves slaughtered half our tribe? Face it, Ragnar, they just don't care anymore. And neither should we".
The hunter stood silent before such words.
"Thats right. We are leaving today, if you are coming. You're still invited to join us".
"They are just going to use you as slaves, or worse."
"Hmph". Loknar crossed his arms. "I see you've made your decision already. So be it. We shall pray for your soul". With that said, he turned around and went to talk to the priest.
"No point in sticking around then", Ragnar thought as he walked back to his cabin. The town of Basil would be his next stop, it was about 3 days on foot from the village. They used to trade with them quite often, but they haven't had news from them for a while, which worried Ragnar a bit. He packed most of his belongins, things that he would need during his travel. A sword, his bow and arrows, a map, a dirk, enough bear and wolf hides to protect him from the cold and provisions for a few days.

The knights stood in front of the new silvery initiates.
"Forget about your past, brothers! You have new lives now, in the service of the Battle-Maiden! Nothing else matters, it all shall be cleansed by her holy fire!" He motioned at the knights and they all rode in different directions, throwing torches at every house. Sooner than later, the entire village was aflame, the smoke quickly rising to the sky.
"Let us go then, to a better future!"

Ragnar was nearing the top of the eastern mountains by then. He looked back one last time. The smoke was now covering almost the entire valley, and the heat from the flames could even be felt from where he was standing. "Maybe the old gods have abandoned us..."