Battle in the Camelot Hills


Far from my homeland I am, a poet, a singer of tales, on a great journey of adventure.  Long have I spent in my homeland of Midgard, spending time drinking ale and singing old epics of centuries of tales long past. 


Ambition has overtaken me, being a young disciple of the House of Bragi I feel it is time to weave my own tales for others to sing in the Halls of Jordheim.  I packed my belongings and said farewell to my fellow Norse, I would travel to the lands of Albion to begin my journey.


Months I have spent in the heathen lands of Albion, the treachery here is immense, the dishonor among its inhabitants is astounding.  They do not fight as honorable warriors, but as rogues with pagan magicís that seem to fool the mind.  Careful I have become, learning to use the trees, rivers, and rocks as my allies.  When I must travel to the populated areas, I try not to attract the attention of the local inhabitants.  Even more so, I see my countrymen mingling with these wretches, even adopting their ways.


But it was not always like this, I am told of stories of a Great King who had brought peace and order to this land, which is hard to believe until you walk about the great jewel of Albion, Camelot.


Fantastic are its buildings and structures.  Art and fountains decorate the city, as well as statues of great knights who once protected her.  Alas, even in the jewel there is flaws, for those rogues, charlatans and cowards seek refuge here from the honor of the righteous.  I spend many days in the pubs, learning of tales and speaking my own to the inhabitants.  Much things I find out, especially the bands of bandits that roam the countryside killing with no regard.


I hear of the southern reaches of Albion containing adventure and action, so I set out on the morrow hoping to witness the tales of these events.


Passing through the village of Cotswold, over the hills the morning dew squishes between my feet.  The sun cresting, burning the morning fog of the hills.  Already the activity of the area is alight with travelers from around the realms.  The area is a well known hot spot, with travelers warned to be aware. 


Iíve never had much trouble, mostly because I kept to myself, except on this day.  The corner of my eye I noticed and Avalonian and a small devilish Lurikeen following me.


Quickly I draw my hammer, forge by the master smiths of Jordheim and blessed by the Gothiís of Bragi.  


I notice the lurikeen beings chanting, sending his minion towards me.  The avalonianís air about him begins to turn an icy cold.  I use the shouts of Bragi, paralyzing the avalonian.  Quickly I hit the minion of the lurikeen, knocking him back, then I head towards the little demon himself.  











The pulverized lurikeen hits the ground, bloodying the soil beneath him.  Calling forth the damaging songs of Bragi I direct them towards the avalonian.




Quickly, the avalonian comes to; he begins chanting his incantations, staring furiously at me wiggling his fingers.   I tuck and rolling getting behind him, my warrior reflexes engage and I swing at the avalonian.




A magic barrier hampers my attack. I push thru the avalonian disrupting his incantations, swinging again I hit him square in the stomach.




He slumps to his kneeís.  Blood curdles form his month, he looks up at me in the blank stair of pain.  I grab the hair on his head, raise my hammer up high and deliver the coup de grace to this poor fool.




I begin chanting the song of travel and make my way to the river.