Sigdar grabbed a stick, took out his knife and fashioned it into something simple but not too crude. He imagined Kjorn being a practical God who wouldn't want to make things complicated.
He failed to realize this was a test.
The moment the stick touched the flame, it flew up the bark, scorched it to cinders and ash within half a second, and continued up his hand. The stone cracked, and the skies became dark. A vortex in the sky erupted above Sigdar, and while he screamed in agony of the blue flame rushing up his arm and engulfing him he looked up to see rain spew forth from everywhere.
As all went black before his eyes, Sigdar suddenly felt the pain disappear. He could still feel himself, but he couldn't see a thing. It was neither cold nor warm, there was no wind or air to be felt yet he could breathe just fine.
A voice called out to him... What did it say? Kjorn..?
Then he was rushed back into reality, as a gigantic blue lightningbolt roared from the sky, like a magical dragon with a thousand wings, fangs and claws, with scales like death taken shape.
The dragon descended upon him and struck him down to the ground, but he fell only to a knee. He felt strength come upon him, a tremendous power rushed through his veins. As his muscles were trippled in size and his body grew several feet in the matter of seconds he stood up and roared. He had been touched by Kjorn himself and by claiming his flaming runestone, he had volunteered as the First Chosen - Kjorn's own warriors who bear his mark and who are bound to him. A Chosen of Kjorn lives only for battle and to serve his God, and eventually he would die in battle when Kjorn permitted it to join him in the afterlife of eternal feast.
Sigdar, the First Chosen reached out his hand and found an axe. It was a long pole-axe with intricate inscriptions and runes carved into it. It had a soft blue hue to it much like the flame that had once stirred in the Runestone... But there was no more runestone. Sigdar looked up to see the glade he had once stood in was now a crater - a black smoking hole in the middle of the wilds. He alone stood, and he alone had received the blessing and mark of Kjorn.
Back in Dagshall, every man and woman able was at work making arms and armor for themselves and for those who could fight, if they themselves couldn't.
Then suddenly they saw the giant blast in the sky, their ears were overcome with the massive explosion that left them deafened for several seconds. Many fell over in shock and some of less healthy physique even collapsed unconcious. When the shock had passed, everyone was dazed. Then, a voice rang out from the shipyard, and the pallisade to the north."The enemy! The enemy comes! To the north and north-east!"
shouted the lookout.
Every warrior rushed to their positions, the barricades and pallisades, the chokepoints where they would hold the enemy. Dag made his way up on the pallisade to look upon the enemy. Rain continued to drown everything around them, but the enemy was unphased. It was as if they had brought the storm.
Fish-men, terrible and disgusting to behold. They were scaly humanoids who stood upright and wielded shortsword, dagger, spear and shield. They stood at five feet tall at average, and sported monstrous eyes, teeth and claws. They were every color from white, blue, purple, green, black, gray, silver, bronze, red, and all of them had the look of bloodthirst upon them. Many were bloodened already, having found a stray lookout or perhaps animal to snack on.
They came rushing up the shores from the north and gurgled a disgusting but horrifying battle-cry, a roar unlike anything any iceborn had ever seen.
More still came from the north-east, having made their way up the shore to attempt to flank the settlement and rush upon the pallisade and whatever funnels they might find into Dagshall. They crossed the river by swimming, swift as eels and just as slippery. They numbered in several hundreds, perhaps even a thousand or more, and they completely threw themselves in blind rage at the pallisades and barricades that you have had erected.
The enemy was upon you. As your warriors locked shields at the chokeholds, the fish-men, now dubbed Deep Ones by the mad captain that had been among their first victims (he didn't seem so mad anymore) smashed into the shield-wall. They shoved, pushed and roared their disgusting battle-cry all the while striking at the Iceborn or the shieldwall in any way they could, with the fury only sick beasts could.
But the Iceborn held firm.
Dag himself was slicing fishman necks up on the pallisades as they climbed over each other or their own dead bodies to get up at the humans when a runner came up to him."Dag! Your son is back!""Good! Tell him to make himself useful - flame of Kjorn or not!""Well, about that, I--"
The runner was interrupted by a sharktooth-dagger through the throat. More and more Deep Ones had come over the pallisade, and some warriors not currently fighting in the shieldwall had to rush up to reinforce their comrades up on the pallisades fighting for their lives.
Dag finished off the one that had so rudely interrupted their conversation, and then he tossed a glance toward the southern entrance, where Sigdar came running through with his mighty axe... But Dag barely recognized his son. He roared with the fury of ten men, he stood at nine feet tall and his arms were twice the size of any man Dag had ever seen or could even imagine. His eyes were the scariest of all - they were empty and white, with the same blue flames as from the runestone coming out of them. Dag could barely believe it - had Sigdar gained the blessing of Kjorn, or had he become the God's own avatar?!
Sigdar the First Chosen leapt into battle. He rushed up the pallisade, and to the astonishment of his comrades he leapt straight down into the Deep One onslaught on the other side. He cut deep swathes across the enemy ranks, rallying any and all Iceborn around him, saving dozens from being gutted by sharktooth spears, swords or daggers.[Free reign! Sigdar has returned within hours, and completely turned the tide of battle in your favor. You have armed all your able-bodied men and women, giving you 250-275 fighters and another 25-50 that performs other non-combat tasks yet are still present near the front-lines. The rest of the populace is either barricading themselves in the great hall or helping out in any way they can.]
[Free reign means you may write the following battle any way you wish. You are victorious despite being outnumbered 4 or 5 to 1, and much of that is thanks to Sigdar and his new powers. They will be explained more thoroughly as he continues to explore them, but for now you may go ham and assume when writing your post that he is indeed the avatar of Kjorn himself.]
[Your stored iron was used in creation of new armor and weaponry for your warriors, but you still have some left in your storages.]
[You have not decided what to do with the Goblin population. Please specify.]
[If you have any other uncertainties, just tag me in Discord!]Population:
234 men, 230 women, 67 children.
- 153 Goblin ThrallsLivestock:
A herd of goat. (Your herd has taken damage from the arrival of the Deep One forces, but you managed to get most to safety.)Military:
No standing military. Militia able to be conscripted up to 60% of adult population.Food level:
Lumber, Iron, Honey (low quantities, legendary quality)Wealth:
Base: 5% +1% from food level, +1% from morale = 7%.Morale:
- Children of Artemon: Neutral
- Deep Ones: Hated