Zentmeister

"When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait."

In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.
Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.

But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.

Vetrúlfr Úllarson, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.

He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.

From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.

But all will know his name.

and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

Valkyries Calling

Vetrúlfr stepped foot into his hall, and found his wife waiting for him, a horn of mead in her hand, and a smile upon her bow-shaped lips.

She handed off the drink and kissed her husband with a gentle embrace. All the while he returned the gesture, not daring to drink the honey wine until after he had let her go.

In that moment, she leaned in close and whispered in his ears.

"I'm glad you're back," she whispered, a voice brushing the lobe of his ear. "I feared for you every day you were gone. Your mother… she had to sit with me each night. I feared I'd never see you again."

He drew her to his chest, a protective hand cradling her head.

"You worry too much. It's not good for the child."

She chuckled softly into his tunic, and he continued, tone low and reassuring.

Whispers in the Wind