The Thunderskald Sagas

=Pre-Barovia= A significant part of Norlandish culture is the reciting of stories or saga's, famous adventures and events in the form of poetry. While some of Hallgrimm's sagas are from his childhood or travels, the majority are of his own creation, depicting his travel across the cursed land of Barovia.

Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Ghastavik
"In the darkness of the bay,

A cruel and creaking sound,

It haunts the town with sombre groans,

And frost upon the ground,

Elders fruitlessly sow the seeds,

Of grain they'll never bear,

Around the crowded hangman's tree,

The ravens take their share,

Silence is the only friend,

Of those who stayed to see,

The plight of those who relying on,

Their noble lord's mercy."

The Voyage of Valkur's Ascension
Our journey hails back long ago to a sailor from Mintarn in the Sea of Swords, the greatest captain that ever lived.

For several weeks, he and his crew had sailed across treacherous waters and plundered a hoard of precious jewels and gold for their families back home.

Many in his crew feared that Umberlee, the Sea Bitch, would covet their new found wealth and send a furious storm to swallow their vessel and treasure whole.

Against his better judgement, the captain decided to hold a ceremony to donate a quarter of their sum to the Wavemother below. Unwittingly, this drew the attention and ire of the Queen of the Depths, for as she surveyed their trove, she desired all of their riches for herself.

A drowned cackle lapped at the side of the ship, causing the crew to go as pale as milk. "You DARE insult me with such a paltry sum? You will give me the rest of this fortune unless you wish to join the depths below."

But the captain, a sailor of such skill and repute, had grown tired of hearing the many tales of The Bitch Queen drowning good men for her own greed. He stood atop the bridge of the ship, gripped the helm and declared

"We have given our dues to you, the rest is for the crew and their families, we will weather any storm you throw our way."

The crew and captain braced themselves, for they surely were to be assaulted by a swell like none they had seen before. The sky turned a furious black as clouds blotted out the sun; men's knuckles turned even paler still and hands filled with splinters as they gripped the wooden rails for dear life. But nothing came… in fact, the waters became as still as glass.

For two days, the captain and crew stood vigilant in dead waters with neither sight of sun, nor breeze on their cheek. A bitter chill fell upon them and the salty waters around them froze for as far as they could see.

It was then that the captain realised the Sea Queen sought to starve his crew until they gave up their gold as she clearly knew the captain could master any storm she sent, and instead chose to break their spirit, rather than their ship.

Many beseeched their captain to allow them to abandon the vessel, so they might trek the ice and find land. But with the sky clouded over and having drifted for two days, none knew how they might navigate the frozen tundra.

When the oppressive darkness of the third night came, with icicles in the crew's beards and their toes blackening from the frostbite, the captain knew what he had to do.

He summoned his first mate and ordered that their spare sail at the bow be cut down to create a package of offering to Umberlee. The captain ordered the crew to give everything they could offer into the sail before tying it up and dropping it over the side onto the ice.

With that, the captain ordered the crew to ready themselves and called upon the Wavemother.

"Umberlee! I see you are too cowardly to test us in earnest, but we relent, you'll find what you deserve if you shatter this ice and release our ship."

As the captain finished his declaration, a rumble came from below, as waves over 20 foot high rolled all about the ship. The ice rippled and contorted before finally shattering asunder and the offering sunk below the waters surface.

But all was not as it seemed, and soon the wind began to howl, a torrent of rain battered the ship and the furious waves grew larger still, for the bundle had been filled with the crew's own shit.

The sea became the fury of Umberlee embodied, while waves as tall as mountains formed, a roaring gale ripped across the bow, filling the ships sail with terrible speed.

But the storm became the Sea Queen's undoing, for the rain gave the sailors drinking water that they had sorely missed and the wind parted the clouds revealing the guiding light of Selune through the moon and stars.

The captain and his crew navigated through the enraged tempest, dodging giant icebergs and lighting that sought to set their ship ablaze. But no obstacle could best his ability to harness the power of the wind and tide.

When the ship finally made landfall, the storm had ended and as the crew shared their loot amongst their families on shore, they turned to see the captain and his ship, already disappearing into the horizon.

This captain took on the name of Valkur, and mantled the sphere of protecting those at sea thanks to his victory over Umberlee. One time, every year, the followers of Valkur commemorate the Shattering when the ice finally melts and new ships sails are unfurled.

=Barovia= During his adventures in Barovia, Hallgrimm has created sagas to raise his prestige and as a method to endear the people to his cause. They primarily focus on the exploits of Sigismund, Eklyre Temere, Narid Ashplantt and Hallgrimm Mikkenson's, adventures in Barovia.

The Hounds of Barovia
"The fair and rolling hills,

With morning mists abound,

Hear the deadly wolven howls,

of great Barovian hounds,

Three strange travellers swept,

Along a woodland trail,

Ignorant of the dogs that crept,

Searching for prey to assail,

A monster emerged from the wood,

Sent snapping servants at heel,

Upon our heros where they stood,

Their snarling teeth revealed,

The travellers stood their ground,

And felled many a mighty beast,

But beset on sides all round,

They provided a mighty feast.

How they lived we'll never know,

The truth's not known to this bard,

But when they awoke they looked upon,

The pallid face of Strahd."

Ashes to Ashes, Durst to Durst
"Come close and hear a tale,

A valuable lesson learned,

Of curses wroth, a grim betrayal,

The cost of woman spurned,

We join three hero's at the gate

Of a noble house, so grand,

Its halls belied the evil fate,

And the wickedness it had planned,

Our travlers searched each room,

Met ghosts who sought to guide,

Past haunting visions in the gloom,

Of their parents who had died,

But in the sprawing crypts they found,

Their ghastly mother who smiled,

To tell of her crimes underground,

Having killed a base born child,

With her dispatched our hero's did tread,

Even further from the dawn,

Beneath to face the monsterous dread,

That the sacrifice had spawned,

In the cold still pool of dismay,

Rose a creature with no soul,

It soaked up every blow from its prey,

And swallowed this skald whole,

But my fury at this foul fiends fuel,

Saw me rip and tear straight through,

It collapsed into the murky pool,

Taking the building with it too,

We dashed and doged through falling stones,

Lept through many a swinging blade,

Braved poison that tried to rot our bones,

But the last trial I could not evade,

Our crafty rangers path of escape,

Now loomed over 50 ft high,

I stood and stared with mouth agape,

And kissed my ass goodbye,

But mistress fate can be a fickle lass,

And the best I can surmise,

Is as my corpse came down with a crash,

My friends stopped my demise,

A solemn lesson to understand,

Is first, be true to your spouse,

If you can't do that, keep a weapon to hand,

Or you never leave that house."

The Ghost Rider
"They say that rivers flow like time,

Eroding stone with a gentle kiss,

We rejoin three heros at the banks,

Of the cool and clear Ivliss,

Across the bridge a rider hails,

Emerging from the misted land,

He holds aloft a verdant lamp,

Clutched in a skeletal hand,

He halts before a gleaming knight,

Descened from a god he boasts,

He rakes his scythe across the mount,

And with a bellow shouts "FUCK GHOSTS!"

But the undead horse bore with force,

Knocking our hero to the ground,

Our ranger found his mark in the dark,

And felled it with a clattering sound,

With the last of his strength the bold one rose,

Finding his haunted foe had spilled,

Onto the grass to soon become,

A man who's twice been killed."

An Orphan's Shade
"A fathers kind smile, a mothers soft warmth,

These gifts an orphan is bereft,

You'd think they'd already suffered enough,

Even before they were possessed,

Three heros follow in the steps,

Of a holy quest they had received,

Which lead to a foul and devilish spawn,

Controlling a child it had deceived,

Our shining knight expelled the foe,

But it came prepared to fight,

It took arrows, axe and spells to hold,

Before vanquishing with righteous smite,

The child now safe the truth had dawned,

Of the foul deeds he had been made to do,

So beware strange jewels you find in woods,

Or a demon may possess you too."

The Fruits of War
"I join you again with a sobering a tale,

And would not mock if you were to cry,

For what could be worse than a day for mirth,

With the taverns running dry?!

We made our way along a treacherous path,

Slaying foul beasts who sought to dine,

On we three travellers on our quest,

To the Wizards of the Wine,

We found the Martikovs camped in the woods,

Who told us of their woes,

For their home and and vinyard was overrun,

By some cursed Druid foes,

These tricky currs had come prepared,

With minions to aid in their fights,

For when we arrived the ground was swarmed,

With a hoard of angry blights,

Our Paladin braced with weapon in hand,

Charged without fear for his life,

These critters clawed at him as they fell,

Like wheat before his scythe,

When the battle moved to the second floor,

Our knight was cast aside,

With a thunderous crash he hit the ground,

"Protect my armour!" He whined,

If you're wondering who to thank in the end,

You should give the sweet ravens a toast,

As they tore apart the rest of the beasts,

Our poor Paladin fought a post,

And if you find yourself getting parched,

Or see your cup down to the dregs,

You can thank the bold one for the drop,

That landed me onto some kegs,

But all jokes aside, the battle ended well,

Save for the followers of the Gulthias Tree,

We cut down the Druids of Yester Hill

And let the wine flow free!"

Granny's Goodbye
I regret I must tell you of dreadful scheme,

With villains cruel and sly,

For beneath her meek and elderly guise,

Granny was making children into pies!

Magantha and her daughters, two,

Travelled the length of Barovia and back,

They stole the kids of unwitting fools,

And sold them off as a tainted snack,

When we learned of the foul fiend’s ploy,

Snatching loved ones from their beds,

We swore we’d end their miserable lives,

And free them of their heads,

These were no mere mortals, I warn you now,

Though you may think I aim to brag,

For when we struck Bella revealed her true form,

As a hideous Nighthag,

Our marvellous mage had a trick up his sleeve,

For he too could change his shape,

Bella turned as she was struck by the hulking form,

Of a furious giant ape,

So afraid she was that Bella fled,

And we took the fray inside,

Little did we how our luck would turn,

It’s a miracle I survived,

These witches flung spells and lightning our way,

Leaving me a charred heap on the ground,

Things looked even worse when our Cleric was dropped,

Softly and sleeping sound,

But the Morninglord works in mysterious ways,

And our mage woke him for a final assault,

Magantha was eclipsed in radiant light,

As he vanquished her with a Guiding Bolt,

Ophelia tried her best to escape with her life,

As my friends made after her with haste,

I took her disgusting mothers head,

While they turned her last daughter into paste,

Thus ends the insidious grasp of the mill,

And we will eradicate all trace,

Of heinous crimes that occurred there,

And desecrated that place.

The Bride Not To Be
I ask you friends, what’s a women to do?

When out of favour with her sire,

We bring you a tale of treasonous wench,

Atop the Ravenloft spire,

Volenta, it seems, had ambitions of her own,

And had come afoul of Strahd,

And with no priest around to annul his vows,

He sought the aid of this Bard,

We had no qualms with putting her down,

And not a single tear was shed,

For surely we would exact justice for,

The numerous folk she had bled,

We drew her ire, throwing taunts her way,

But as she came to bite,

The heir of Kavan, with the Morninglord’s wrath,

Exploded with radiant light!

Our fiendish friend sought to blast her apart,

With a power not seen since The WAR!

He channelled a heavenly guiding bolt,

And scorched the furious whore!

But our troubles had only just begun,

As she fixed us with a venomous glower,

Her warding stone shattered against the symbol light,

So she cast it down the tower!

Our Ranger Narid struck her with the spear of Kavan,

Though she had us backed against the wall,

Our friend Eklyre took her down at last,

Engulfing her in a fireball,

But all was not over for as I dropped to my knees,

And brought my stake to her chest,

Her husband appeared and kicked her into the void,

Before we could properly lay her to rest,

So I warn you now, if you see a masked girl,

Stalking the woods at night,

Grab a stake, say your prayers, for I promise you all,

You’re in for one hell of a fight!

Bad Dog
Beware the shrouded woodland,

Betwixt Kresk and Baratok’s shore,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

A huge fanged yawning mouth agape,

Out of which no light is saw,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

We crept as silent as pale death’s breath,

With a heart-warming gift in store

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

In a blaze their pack was set alight,

Leaving ash from near 2 score,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

The warriors of Kiril came to,

With spear and snarling teeth they bore,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

But as his clan fell one by one,

Their leader could help no more,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

Kiril’s banishment spared him the sight,

Of his lackeys perished in the tangled floor,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

But when he returned his fury renewed,

Raining blows amidst his terrible roar,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

He sought to make an end of me,

As I dropped pale and slick with gore,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

But my friends would not have my tale cut short,

And on the Morninglord’s grace they did draw,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

As Kiril fled my last gambit I sent,

And he dropped to the ground with a snore,

For who, but fools would seek to tread,

Into the great wolf’s jaw,

But I ask of you my listeners who,

Are these fools I spoke of before,

For at the end of the day it was our silvered sword,

That skewered that son of a whore.

Winter Splintered
It seems the depraved druids are slow to learn,

For we had to teach them a second time,

Just how far we would go to secure,

A couple of barrels of wine,

We tramped back across to the Martikovs’ land,

With the twisted blights at our back,

For it seemed the denizens of Yester Hill,

Were preparing for a final attack,

But Bahamut sought to tip the scales in our favour,

Knowing the power of the druids’ monstrous tree,

He delivered us a silvered paladin,

Who for now we’ll just call Z,

T’was not long until the druids began their assault,

With first their blights they sent to plunder,

But the grindstone of Barovia has sharpened our blades,

And we tore them all asunder,

When the Yesterfolk finally revealed their fiercest piece,

With which they thought to seal our doom,

The huge corrupted tree Wintersplinter,

Approached with a thunderous boom,

The heir of Kavan wrought righteous justice on them,

While our fiendish friend saw their ambitions burned,

Then with a cruel smile and flick of his wrist,

The hideous tree was turned!

By the time it got back there were none left for its aid,

And into a ferocious rage it flew,

Now it was Z’s and my time to shine,

So we introduced Traekleaver and Hew,

Wintersplinter rained blows down on us all,

And on the last of our strength we drew,

To make this scourge into a bundle of sticks,

By cleaving its limbs in two,

When the foul spawn grabbed me and raised me to its jaw,

For a second I thought it was dead,

But it turns out the weave still favours me yet,

As I buried my axe in its head!