Sigrunn's Saga

Okay so enough pontificating on celebretards, philosophy or the Navy and Gov't, those guys all get beat up a lot it's hard working in government and the celebretards don't care about negative press. Today I start a new thread, a short story that cuts across a collaborative fiction piece about a barbarian settler and her experiences in this strange land ruled by creatures abhorrent to her, not the least of which is a wizard she is related to by marriage.

Almost sounds like a really bad sitcom. It's something I've been playing with putting together with Alvie there in Pottsville he's busy with soccer coaching or something now so I haven't heard much from him lately but he chimes in when he sees a piece of the Sigrunn story to say how much he's enjoying it. To be fair he is very much to blame for Sigrunn. She cuts across his greyhawk campaign which occurs in the patriots of Ulek time frame CY 570 plus I believe. When we begin Sigrunn has abandoned the settlement at Norn Redding Kragg after a falling out with her uncle the Jarl Har Vor.

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Sigrunn stained her blond braids red and black with gore as she pulled them away from her face. She let out a triumphant grunt as she freed her axe, one-handed, from the dead priest’s spine. She raised it chest high, just enough so its weight would carry it through his neck. Satisfied she knelt beside the headless corpse and claimed her trophy, wiping her iron blade clean on his frock before returning it to its sheath. She drew a long knife from its hiding place and cut the young man’s scalp away and shook his brain loose into the fine dust of the ancient road. She tied the trophy to a string of others thinking that it will make a fine bowl and she looked forward to drinking her favorite wine from it. She put the knife away and stood, picking up the priests book thinking the leaves would come in handy for cleaning herself and her kit on the way to her destination.

She stopped to kick the dead fool's brain away then strode across the road to recover her helmet. She stepped over the other cleaved men lying motionless face down in the dirt. She didn’t bother to take their unworthy scalps. They had run when she launched herself upon them - only the youngest had the courage to stand against her. When she bent over to recover her helmet she noticed the ox hide strap had been cut away in the fighting. She tugged her gauntlet off and checked her throat and chin, finding her own blood she checked again. “It’s not serious” she thought tying the helmet to her belt and continued down the road to the next village.

Cresting a hill she spotted the first village beneath a dead and ruined castle atop a hillock on the far side of the settlement. “Dwamud” she hatefully spat. She despised the greedy filthy dwarfs who lived under the mountains, especially the weak and soft lot that inhabited this new shore. She spotted a pair making their way up the road toward her singing gaily and she thought briefly of challenging them but then decided to try to speak to them first.

She did her best to look friendly, raising a hand to hail them and they returned her greeting warmly. A few frustrating moments later Sigrunn was finding it impossible to be understood by the little sods and she was beginning to become angry at their rude leering and gesturing. She pushed them aside and bid them farewell. The dwarfs followed her and became louder and more animated so she pulled her axe from its sheath and cut them low leaving them writhing in agony, bleeding to death on the hill road. She decided to bypass the dwarf settlement and continued on her way north towards the mountains that called to her since coming to this shore a season ago.

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Sigrunn is an angry creature out for blood maybe we should do a kids story...