Post by Vaklu on Sept 18, 2014 19:40:13 GMT
Gudrik had marched half the day to reach his brother's hold for the winter solstice. His Bearskin cloak was pulled tight against the cold. He was a squat heavily muscled man of 25 stone and almost 19 winters. His long black hair was matted and unkempt. His skin was dark and leathery from long years at sea. Behind him trailed his huscarls a column of 50 giants stretched out along the road to the capital. The only reason he consented to keep the pace they had was to make it to his brother's wedding.
It was almost nightfall as Gudrik reached Volthiem. It was the seat of the Jotun jarls and it was decked out for the occasion. Tonight the city was awash in the light of dozens of bonfires, in the great square a fire blazed forty feet high as servants bustled to the trestle tables with roasted meats and fresh bread and flagons of mead. It was custom for Jarls to feast in the open with their warriors when they married and when their heirs came of age, so all might see the worthiness of the one joining the household.
As Gudrik's party entered the square one of his brother's retainers came forward to meet him as he entered the square, leading him to the high table. At the center sat Tholarg, Jarl of all the Jotun. Were Gudrik was squat and dark, he was tall and fair. His golden hair shown in the firelight and around his neck a silver torc gleamed. In defiance of the cold he wore nothing above the waist but his silver arm rings and woad markings. He smiled broadly when he saw his brother approach the table. He stood up in an easy fluid motion.
"Brother you've missed the ceremony." He closed the distance with a handful of strides. At 13 feet Tholarg was at least a head and a half taller than Gudrik. "By the warden, it's good to see you again." And with that Gudrik was wrapped up by his older brother in a massive bear hug, lifting him into the air despite his protests. His feet were still dangling when Tholarg chose to loose his grip.
The shorter man landed on his feet and gave his brother a solid shot to gut, winding him. "How many times have I told you not to do that." Hes looked his brother up and down. "I'm sure the halfling priest just loved that." a finger the size of a crossbow bolt made a gesture at the woad, traditionally meant to call the favor of the green warden to the marrage rights.
The Jarl grinned. "Never said a word. we showed up at his little chapel just as he asked but with the amount of guests, well we had to hold the ceremony outside wouldn't you know."
Gudrik was shakeing his head at his brother's antics. The jotun were hardly the most devout of Aed's new followers but such flaunting would lead to trouble. "Enough of you bragging. Now where's this pretty wife ya been bragging over for weeks?" His brother simply laughed and lead him to a pale young woman with raven hair. She just came to Gudrik's shoulder and had an easy smile with perfect white teeth. A rarity amongst the Jotun. Gudrik had lost three teeth to a shield across his jaw when he was 18. Her dress was grey survaek silk cut in an elegant style with wide sleeves and high bodice. She was the daughter of one the lesser thanes, master of the farming holdfast of Yern. He gave her small bow before taking a seat at his brother's right. "It's seems that for once brother your boasts were not empty."
Tholarg threw himself in to his seat laughing, his wife taking her seat more demurely. "We'll have find you a wife of your own soon. My sons will need cousins to grow up beside. Let's face it you aren't getting any younger."
It was almost nightfall as Gudrik reached Volthiem. It was the seat of the Jotun jarls and it was decked out for the occasion. Tonight the city was awash in the light of dozens of bonfires, in the great square a fire blazed forty feet high as servants bustled to the trestle tables with roasted meats and fresh bread and flagons of mead. It was custom for Jarls to feast in the open with their warriors when they married and when their heirs came of age, so all might see the worthiness of the one joining the household.
As Gudrik's party entered the square one of his brother's retainers came forward to meet him as he entered the square, leading him to the high table. At the center sat Tholarg, Jarl of all the Jotun. Were Gudrik was squat and dark, he was tall and fair. His golden hair shown in the firelight and around his neck a silver torc gleamed. In defiance of the cold he wore nothing above the waist but his silver arm rings and woad markings. He smiled broadly when he saw his brother approach the table. He stood up in an easy fluid motion.
"Brother you've missed the ceremony." He closed the distance with a handful of strides. At 13 feet Tholarg was at least a head and a half taller than Gudrik. "By the warden, it's good to see you again." And with that Gudrik was wrapped up by his older brother in a massive bear hug, lifting him into the air despite his protests. His feet were still dangling when Tholarg chose to loose his grip.
The shorter man landed on his feet and gave his brother a solid shot to gut, winding him. "How many times have I told you not to do that." Hes looked his brother up and down. "I'm sure the halfling priest just loved that." a finger the size of a crossbow bolt made a gesture at the woad, traditionally meant to call the favor of the green warden to the marrage rights.
The Jarl grinned. "Never said a word. we showed up at his little chapel just as he asked but with the amount of guests, well we had to hold the ceremony outside wouldn't you know."
Gudrik was shakeing his head at his brother's antics. The jotun were hardly the most devout of Aed's new followers but such flaunting would lead to trouble. "Enough of you bragging. Now where's this pretty wife ya been bragging over for weeks?" His brother simply laughed and lead him to a pale young woman with raven hair. She just came to Gudrik's shoulder and had an easy smile with perfect white teeth. A rarity amongst the Jotun. Gudrik had lost three teeth to a shield across his jaw when he was 18. Her dress was grey survaek silk cut in an elegant style with wide sleeves and high bodice. She was the daughter of one the lesser thanes, master of the farming holdfast of Yern. He gave her small bow before taking a seat at his brother's right. "It's seems that for once brother your boasts were not empty."
Tholarg threw himself in to his seat laughing, his wife taking her seat more demurely. "We'll have find you a wife of your own soon. My sons will need cousins to grow up beside. Let's face it you aren't getting any younger."
