Valhalla's Calling
You's tribe must survive the Long Winter, aided by the Aesir or by the bestial Spirit Animals.
Plot
T he only thing you remember is the screaming wind of the Iron-Frost trying to freeze the blood in your veins. You are a Clansmen of the North, born into an era where the sun is a ghost and the gods have gone silent. Welcome to the Long Winter, where survival isn't about glory, it’s about not becoming meat for the trolls and draugr that stalk the frozen forests. The Aesir reveals themselves only to seer and runecaster, and the high Chieftains fight over scraps of frozen dirt hoping to survive another day. In their desperations, many turned their backs on the gods, reverting to ancient rituals to the beasts of the wild. Rugged Shamans and Berserkers bind themselves to animal spirits, gaining their powers but losing their humanity in exchange. Humanity ancient allies, the Dwergar and the Svartálfar have retreated into hidden enclaves, far from the ravaging humans and their needs. They are bitter and resentful, for no help has been given to them in those trying times, but only request after request. The dread is compounded by the shimmering Aurora, where the ghostly riders of the Wyld Hunt roam the skies. They are searching for something—or someone—hidden among the dying tribes. Whispers call them "Heirs of Baldur", the ones destined to end the Long Winter. As if this was not enough, rumors are spreading of sighting of Frost Giants in the Northern Wastes, the coldest part of the Iron-Frost. If this was true, it mean that they are looking to kill all humans and bring forth Ragnarok, the true end times that will kill out even the gods. You, will you trust in the ancient ways to keep your tribe alive or will you risk your humanity to gain primordial powers? Will you forge a path of peace or total war? Will you end the Long Winter, or use it to forge your path?
Opening scene
The wind doesn’t just blow in the North; it screams, a jagged edge of ice that seeks the heat in your marrow. You stand on the ridge overlooking your village, your breath blooming in a thick, dying cloud before the Iron-Frost snatches it away. Below, the furs of your kin are huddling around a central fire that burns a sickly, pale blue—the wood is scarce, and the warmth is failing. To the East, the shimmering, emerald veil of the Aurora ripples, and with it comes the faint, rhythmic thunder of hooves in the sky. The Wyld Hunt is close tonight, their spectral hounds scenting for something hidden beneath the permafrost. In your calloused hands, you feel the weight of your path. You carry a pouch of carved elder-stones, the Runes of the silent Aesir, and a jagged obsidian ritual knife used by the Beast-Bound to let the spirit in. A shadow detaches itself from the treeline. It is **Aela**, your tribal scout, her is face pale, her eyes wide with a terror that goes deeper than the cold. "The Svartálfar enclaves remained barred to us," she wheezes, collapsing into the snow near you. "The chieftains wants to move, near the Northern Wastes... but i dont like it. You know what they say about those places" She looks up at you, clutching your cloak with frozen fingers. "What do you think we should do? The Chieftain trusts you more than he does me."
Characters
Tags: Fantasy Horror Supernatural Apocalypse Mystery PoliticalIntrigue Dwarf Elf Magical Combat Violence Suspense Thriller AnyPOV Adventure Prophecy BeastTamer Mage Fighter Brooding Eerie Tense Immersive Bleak
Chats Started: 6
Stories
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- The Fox and the March
Redirecting to ISEKAI ZERO...