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Hafnir Stouthammer Profile
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Registered: 08-2009
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Hafnir's back, Baby! And here's a new installment from his tales as a treat:

The world resolved itself into a cacophony of rage and terror.

Hafnir’s vision slowly focused on the burning citadel before him, as he struggled to rise from his back. The bodies of men, women, and children lay strewn about him. Some of the men looked like raiders and militia, while others wore robes the likes of which Hafnir had never seen.

As he struggled upright, Hafnir pushed the body of a robed man from where he lay across Hafnir’s chest, an arrow in his back. Hafnir winced in agony and felt an open wound above his right ear, and the voice of a strangely familiar man spoke in his head telling him he had a concussion. However, Hafnir was slightly confused about what “concussion” meant. What he did know, was that he felt like he was waking from a long sleep, and being thrust into two battles: The physical struggle that was occurring around him and the struggle in his mind to remember who he was.

As far as Hafnir remembered, he had last been on board a vessel crossing the Silivren Ocean, headed for Dugar. He had been intent on visiting his father’s homeland in hopes of ending the curse his father’s cowardice had laid upon him, when a violent storm engulfed his vessel. He remembered a line snapping, a loud crack, and then nothing until this moment.

Except for the two years that Arthwys Dyn-Boddi remembered after washing up on the shores of the Glimmerglass Sea and being brought into the Kingfisher Citadel by the Maegisters of Otesaga, the island nation where Hafnir-Arthwys now stood.

Memories fought amongst themselves for dominance of their mind. Sorties lead by scholars instructing him in the four elements and hours spent learning the ancient tongues in waning candlelight broke upon the lines held by blades bathed in Orc-blood and tankards of the finest ales.

Hafnir-Arthwys managed to make it to one knee and felt the peculiar weight around his neck. He looked down to see a chain forged of links from many different metals, a symbol that marked Arthwys a scholar, healer, and advisor in all things, drenched in the blood of a man who had been lying across Hafnir-Arthwys as he first awoke.

Hafnir-Arthwys turned his gaze upon that man now, and Arthwys recognized Iachawr, the man who had first found him on the beach, nursed him to health, and successfully petitioned the Citadel to allow a broken shell of a man with no past to find purpose within its halls.

Hafnir began to feel the old pain again, but it was different now. Where once he had felt cold emptiness in his soul, provoking him to set upon his foes both real and imaginary, he now felt a righteous heat, burning through his limbs and bending to his will.

It was then that he felt the air moving as a battleaxe approached his neck.

Faster than the four raiders from Angle could fathom, the man in a Maegister’s garb seized the giant two-handed monstrosity from Osbeorn Ten-trees, so-named because he was as wide around the chest as ten of the oldest pines in Hartshorne, and removed the head of the greatest fighter any of them had known.

After Hafnir had finished exacting his revenge upon the stragglers of the now failed raid – Most of the warriors had dropped their plunder and fled the village of Coeperston when they heard of a devil-spirit sweeping down from the ravaged citadel, destroying all invaders in his path – he set about helping those of the villagers left alive. While Arthwys and the rest of the Maegisters were now gone, their knowledge remained with young warrior-reborn and that knowledge demanded service to the people.

Perhaps this had been the answer to the curse all along…

Eh, who cares? He was alive and no longer being driven mad by something he couldn't fight with a sword.

Hafnir outfitted the smallest of the raiding vessels, one he thought he could pilot himself, and set off in search of his lost home. As he plotted his course by the stars, something he learned in all those musty, old tomes, he fondled the chain he kept about his neck and thought aloud:

“Maybe Arthwys isn’t gone at all…”

Last edited by Hafnir Stouthammer, 6/8/2012, 10:06 pm

Hafnir Stouthammer

My diet is high in moral fiber, it helps me poop the evil out
6/8/2012, 9:18 pm Link to this post Send Email to Hafnir Stouthammer   Send PM to Hafnir Stouthammer

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