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

The sea raged, as if Njörðr himself had risen in wrath to cast Vetrúlfr into the depths of Helheim, furious that a mortal dared challenge his dominion.

Its waves thrashed the clanker-hull of the vessel. Each stir an attempt to drown its sailor. The frigid winds kissed his cheeks, a blessing bestowed by the goddess of winter, or a curse yet realized.

Winter had come in full, vast and merciless. Should he falter, even for a heartbeat, his knarr would vanish beneath the crushing grip of Jökull, entombed forever in the still tomb of the frozen sea.

Yet was the son of winter so easily broken by his father's breath? Vetrúlfr rowed on, some say without rest, food, or fire.

He fought not only the storm and the sea, but the creeping numbness of death. Through salt-spray and shrieking gusts, through sleet that cut like seaxes and hail that struck like spears, he endured.

The Trial of Ice and Fang