Sagas' sleep was restless and full of nightmares. The faces of the dead farmers, the undead bear as it charged out of the darkness. The feeling of fury boiling within them made them tense and grit their teeth even in their sleep. The fury boiled over as the nightmares became a haze of red, Saga seeing themselves on a barren field, covered with blood, a spear in their hand. Countless dead around them, warriors who had thrown themselves into battle.

The ravens and crows that flew overhead were so many that they blotted out the sun. Their cawing is a bone-rattling cacophony inside Saga's head as they walk through the battlefield. The sky was dark with smoke as they reached the edge of the field. Below a ridge, an entire city had been set to the torch. The screams of its citizens reached the heavens along with the pillars of smoke.

“This is war.” A voice came out from behind them. As they turned, a tall man stood behind them. His body was draped in a massive robe, with a hood that shrouded his face. His hands were wizened and gnarled, like that of an old sailor or farmer's hands. Someone who had worked his entire life. He was gripping a staff in both hands, leaning against it as he watched Saga with an unwavering stare. Saga could feel how the entity's eyes seemed to see into their very soul.

“Who are you?” Saga called out but didn't recognize their voice. It sounded hoarse and gravely. As if they had shouted and shouted until their vocal cords threatened to snap.

“You will see for yourself, soon enough.” The man spoke. His voice was old beyond comprehension. They could feel it, the eons of existence that weighed every word down upon Saga's soul

“Who,” Saga asked again, feeling suddenly angry.

“You do not need to know who I am. But in time, you will come to understand what I am.” The man said as he lifted a finger and pointed. “For you have the fire. And the fire always leads to me. One way or another.” As the mysterious entity spoke, Saga could feel the fire he mentioned. It burned, iridescent within them. Spreading outwards, scorching them from the inside. Saga screamed but no words came.

***

Saga snapped awake, eyes wide open and head throbbing with the mother of all hangovers. As they ran a hand through them by now out of control, frizzy red hair, they looked about. The others were already packing up the small camp. Olaf nodded to them as they got up and Ingrid approached with a clay mug of some sort.

“Welcome back,” Ingrid said and offered Saga the mug.

“This isn't some kind of murder booze again is it?” Saga inquired as they took the mug.

“Not at all. It's herbal tea. Good for hangovers.” She said with a toothy grin that Saga found to be very disarming. Saga took the tea and sipped the slightly bitter brew with a hum of appreciation. It worked wonders on their stiff, sore muscles and made the terrible hangover diminish to levels that Saga could at least survive until they reached civilization. Ingrid handed them a loaf of bread and a small bowl of soup from yesterday that the party had reheated over the fire.

As they ate, Saga remembered there were a bunch of questions they had never gotten the chance to ask the group. Chief of these concerns was regarding all the weird things that came with having a whole status sheet.

“Ok. So I am going to need some clarifications. You guys asked me about my Spiritual Affinities before. And I get that magic kind of compacts your experience and training to increase the rate you get more proficient. But there are a bunch of other things on this overview.”

“Such as?” Ingrid asked as Ordan came to join them by the fire.

“Take my Attributes for an example. I get that Brawn is about muscle and physical stuff, Mind is obviously about your mental strength. I take it that spirit affects magic and such. Grace is what? How dexterous and agile you are?”

“Something like that,” Ordan confirmed. “The more brawn, the more physically powerful you get. The further you can hurl that spear of yours. The more damage you can withstand. Mind is important because it lets you see what others do not. Notice details and understand the inner workings of things. For a spellcaster like myself, it is almost as important as Spirit. It helps us understand the limits of our more complicated spells. Grace is what you said, it is how smoothly you move, how easily you can dodge. That kind of thing.”

“What do Spirit do then?”

“It dictates how easily you absorb the ambient magic around you,” Ordan explained, evidently glad to have something to distract him on the group's journey. They talked a bit more about the intricacies of training each attribute as they moved further south. They had reached a road now and were moving at a pace that was a bit too fast for Saga despite their long legs.

“Want a ride?” Ingrid asked as she saw Saga start to slow down. Saga was about to answer when Olaf stopped them.

“Better to march on your own two feet. You will be leveling quickly the first five levels. If you make sure to push yourself physically it will help you gain more brawn and acquire that skills to help you move around more economically”

Saga looked longingly at the giant reindeer, like a child looking at a cool bike they wanted oh so badly. Olaf narrowed his eyes at Ingrid who simply grinned back down at him. Grabbing the reins, the dwarfish woman leaned to the side and offered a short but muscled arm. As soon as she got a good grip on Saga's arm, she heaved the other up like they weighed nothing.

Saga sat on their side, the back of the creature so wide it was easier that way than straddling its back. The beast seemed to barely register the extra passenger.

“You raised this one?” Saga asked, running fingers through the thick fur of the massive creature.

“Aye. Her name is Tarla. I raised her since she was a calf. My family owns a small farm and we have a few calves now and then that we sell to the Jarl stables to raise as war mounts. Mother felt I should raise one for myself.” Ingrid said with a grin. Saga could only imagine growing up on a farm that raises such massive creatures.

“People up ahead.” Came Gothwalds voice. “Looks like the Jarls’ men. ”

“No,” Lenara said as Olaf narrowed his eyes at a slowly approaching group of about five men and women.

“No. Look at the weapons. Those are certainly not the weapons of Housecarls or any of his Sworn. Those are from overseas.” Olaf spoke, his hand straying to his ax. “Don’t provoke anything, but be ready.”

All of the sudden, the group was tense all over again. Saga felt their fingers seize around the spear all over again, trying not to let their nervousness show. As they began to approach the other group, one of the men in the other group pointed to Ingrid and her mount. As they came into view even for Saga to see, they noted how different these people seemed from the group that Saga was traveling with. Their leader wore armor that felt much more like that of a western knight, with a breastplate and greaves covering his feet and lower legs. He also wore a massive sword over his back. Behind him walked a woman, wearing similar garbs to that of Vetra, but with a lot more gold on her person. In fact, between the six different rings, the large golden collar, and the multiple earrings Saga had to wonder exactly what kind of god their worshippers wore that much wealth openly. The three that rounded the group up were all dressed in well-made chainmail over thick padded jackets. All of them were armed with swords and shields.

As the two groups passed each other, the woman stopped and looked directly at Saga. Saga held her gaze. The woman was blonde, with fair features. She looked thoughtful as she stopped the leader with a hand on his shoulder.

“Louise,” She said as the rest of their group stopped. Sagas group had already stopped to let them past and now Saga could feel the tension increase exponentially.

“Is this the one?” The man, apparently named Louise, asked.

“No. But she is marked by the Rose of Death. Which is curious enough” The priestess said, making all four of her group react with surprise. Now five heads were all turned to Saga. Olaf who did not like the way the five seemed to talk so openly about one of his part members, stepped up to the leader. “Olaf Attridson. Who may you lot be.”

“Louise Cheveri. Sword for hire.” He gestured to the Priestess. “This is Lady Alexa of the Golden Reverie Temple. She is my employer.”

“The Golden Reverie?” Saga asked and looked to Vetri for help.

“It is the biggest temple for the god of commerce and trade; Sketil.” Vetri clarified. “They house the biggest, most influential religious orders down among the Western kingdoms.”

“Ah.” Alexa smiled. “Lady Death picked another soul to reincarnate in our midst. Welcome to our world I suppose.” Her words felt flippant and insincere in a way that irked Saga. This one was night and day compared to the very down-to-earth and soft-spoken Vetra.

“And what is your business in the Jarls lands?” Olaf spoke, ignoring the priestess entirely. The leader of the sellswords all looked to his employer who noted that he may speak.

“We are looking for someone who has absconded with a relic of her order. A former member of the Golden Reverie. He fled north with a smuggler's ship. We tracked him to your Jarls lands. But we are starting to think he might have thrown in with your Jarls enemies”. Louise spoke

The Priestess held up a hand. “We have said enough. Safe to say, we are no enemies of your Jarl or your group. If anything, we might even end up shoulder to shoulder, if the gods push us in such a direction. Louise, let us continue.”

“A word of warning,” Vetra spoke softly, but loud enough to make the other priestess stop and turn around.

“Several homesteads have been burned. There may be roaming bandits about or worse. Be on your guard.” Vetra said and Alexa seemed to genuinely appreciate it. Thinking it over in her head before responding.

“I see. Thank you for the warning.” Alexa nodded. “Make sure that one gets to speak with their benefactor as soon as you reach the city. It is always good to have the favor of Death herself if a conflict is on the horizon” With that, the other group continued their trek northwards.

“Did you buy all that?” Ordan asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I do not believe them to be enemies. But I believe there is something else they are here for than just a runaway member of their clergy.” Olaf spoke with a glance over his shoulder towards where the other group had vanished past a hill.

“I really could use a warm room and a flagon right now,” Ordan muttered. “These past few days are shaping up to be too complicated a mess for my taste.”

***

Not an hour after their encounter with the strange group of mercenaries, they came upon a small town that Ordan happily exclaimed was the first stop on their journey.

“Behold. Hemgård, the least awful outpost town north of Alebridge”

“It is also the only outpost town north of Alebridge” Vetra was quick to point out.

The town was ringed by a large, wooden wall made out of massive logs staked into the ground. Across each log was a myriad of glowing runes that had been painstakingly carved into the wood. Every so often, the palisades were broken up by large watchtowers in stone. The gate stood open, with a few guards checking everyone coming and going. There seemed to be a few roads that all converged on the town and the closer they got, the more people they saw. Most of the wagons were drawn by large, oxen-like creatures. They did not reach the giant reindeer like renn in height, but they made up for it in their width. Most of the large wagons seemed to be transporting either lumber or blocks of ice that seemed to contain sparks of blue energy.

“What is that? Magical ice?” Saga pointed at the blocks of ice as a wagon passed by while Olaf sorted out their entry with a large, stern-looking woman.

“The ice? It’s not the ice they are after. It’s the things inside. Those are lesser water elementals. Due to them consisting almost entirely of water but for their magical core, you can quite easily freeze them. Water elementals are quite common among the frozen lakes up north.” Vetra explained, ever ready to act the role of a mentor or a teacher.

“What do you use water elementals for?”

“Depends. Most minor elementals are harvested for their elemental cores, which are used as fuel for many magical contraptions. Some are tamed, in so much you can tame an elemental.” Vetra continued as the stern-looking lady took Olaf aside, the two chatting in hushed tones. Saga threw them a glance but tried to focus on what Vetra was saying.

“Elementals aren't alive like you and me, they lack anything close to an actual soul or spirit. They are minor forces of nature that are given a very rudimentary sense of self and lack the intellect of even the simplest of animals. Some people have cracked how to reshape this lack of intellect into something that can follow basic commands and can redirect the elemental powers to achieve whatever it is they need them to do.” Just as Vetra was done explaining, they saw Olaf moving back towards the group.

“Problems?” Orlan asked as he handed Olaf a small vineskin.

“No. I let them know about the homesteads we found. They are understandably upset. The old man with the bow was well liked around town. His two daughters both live in town and haven't been out to the farm since winter fell. She went to inform them herself.” Olaf answered as he took a swig and grimaced.

“There was an understanding that we’d stop raiding each other more than a decade ago..” Ingrid added before Saga could ask if this was a common occurrence.

The group remained silent, glancing at one another uneasily. The whole affair was leaving a bad taste in their mouth.

“She sent a rider to Alebridge as well. To let the Jarl now.” Olaf continued.

“Gods,” Ingrid mumbled. “This is gonna escalate. Isn’t it”

“The Jarl can’t let such blatant raiding go unanswered. At the very least, he is gonna demand recompense and the head of everyone involved.” Olaf confirmed.

“Ainar is not gonna pay. And I doubt he is gonna give up any of his raiders.” Gothwald said as he scanned the horizon for something.

“Then the Jarl is gonna make him pay. And that means war.” Ingrid was looking increasingly unhappy.

“War?” Saga asked, eyes wide as she remembered the dream she had only hours ago.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that. Hopefully, Ainar isn’t that stupid.” Ordan said but none of them seemed convinced.

“Who is this Ainar? Other than an absolute asshole?” Saga asked, which drew a few looks from the nearby guards. Olaf chuckled at the description.

“Ainar Gurvinson is the son of Jarl Gurvin, our closest neighbor. Jarl Gurvin left some while ago to aid some of his southern allies.” He explained.

“His asshole son favors himself as a future warlord and uniter of all the North.” Ingrid scoffed. “He has a lot of brash, angry warriors who are dissatisfied with the lack of raiding who are now rallying under his banner. As he is in charge while his father is away, he has been testing our Jarl's patience. Going so far as to not actively pursue groups of bandits that are raiding on our side of the border.”

“This was a step too far, however. The livestock farms north of here supply the town with most of their meat. It’s used to supplement the grain during the winter. If they have hit more than those three farms, people here are risking starvation if nothing is done” Olaf said, concern showing on his face, his brow furrowed.

“Hopefully they can get people out to other farms in time,” Lenara spoke as they moved past the gate. In an effort to steer the conversation to something lighter, seeing how they couldn’t do anything about the raider right now. Saga decided to play the tourist.

“So. What can you do in this town?” Saga asked the group who all decided to chime in to enlighten them of the many exciting things the North had to offer.

“Even outpost towns like this have a great big alehouse as its centerpiece. There you can meet all sorts of folks.” Ordan spoke, clearly having a one-track mind when it came to the imbuing of copious amounts of alcohol”

“He means he wants to get drunk and then serenade the prettiest man or woman he can find,” Ingrid explained while Ordan tried and failed to look innocent.

“I hate that he can get drunk and yet grow suaver as a result,” Gothwald said.

“He never lands anyone sober, I swear.” Lenera agreed.

“I could really go with a visit to the bathhouse. They have magically heated pools” Olaf said as he was by far the one with the most need of the mentioned bath, what with him being in the thick of it during their battle with the undead.

“Oh, nice.” Ingrid agreed. “I really need to get this grime off me”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Vetra agreed.

“What about the Hall of Gods?” Saga inquired, remembering the other priestess mentioning it earlier.

“There is no Hall of Gods here. Anyone observing worship here likely does it with small communal shrines. Like that one.” Vetra pointed to a statue of a woman wrapped in vines while holding a child to the heavens. There were small bundles of wheat laid at its feet of it and an occasional carved piece of wood. A young man in grey robes seemed to be leading three women and a man in prayer.

“Is that your goddess Vetra?”

“It is. She is one of the most venerated in the North as her domain is Growth and Nature. Farmers here are very much dependent on good harvest during the warmer months so they can last the long winter.” Vetra explained as she clearly enjoyed talking about her faith. ”Other worshippers are parents of infants asking for their children to grow up strong and kids who really, really want to grow up tall.” She mused.

The group arrived at a large barn-like building as Ingrid stopped her mount. She and Saga hopped off, or rather she hopped off and then had to help catch Saga as they found that hopping off such a tall beast was a little daunting.

“I’ll stable my gal here. You lot to set up at the inn yeah? See some of you at the bathhouse” Ingrid said as she took her animal by the bridle and led it inside to talk with the owner.

Olaf motioned for the others to follow as Saga noted that Gothwald had upped and vanished somewhere along the way. “Where is Gothwald?”

“I did mention he was only with us short-term. Likely he is restocking for another trip on his own. Stalkers trek long distances while clearing out lesser dangers from the land. Here in the North, there are quite a few, it's a lonely life but Gothwald never struck me as the person to enjoy crowds.” Vetra said as they walked down the town's main street. It was the only road made out of stone, the slightly uneven cobble street bisected the city into two parts. It was wide enough for wagons to travel in either direction without colliding but just about. Every so often it expanded slightly to one side to let wagons pull aside and unload. At each of these loading docks, young people stood waiting to unload the wagons at a moment's notice.

“He didn't speak much.” Saga agreed. “So he is just gonna walk around alone in all that snow and fight monsters?”

“Pretty much,” Jordan said as he fished out his wine flask and took a swig. He offered it to Saga but they shook their head. Remembering what happened when she drank some of the group's booze before. As Ordan put the wineskin away, they arrived at the Inn. It was a rather small building, wedged between two larger buildings that appeared to be a bakery and a tailor.

“Here we are. The Bloated Pig” Olaf said as he opened the door to let the others in. Ordan peeled off immediately as they entered, spotting a table where two men were playing some sort of game that involved dice. The common room of the inn was not packed yet, but there was a sizable crowd of people. Three men stood at the bar, chatting up the tall, burly bartender who had a massive, bushy mustache and graying hair. The scar across his face told Saga he had not always been a barkeep. Two women and a man hustled about with trays of food and drink. The man Saga realized was an elf. His hair was slicked back and short, barely reaching to his neck. His features were rather effeminate and his eyes seemed extremely sharp. He also wore tight, form-fitting clothes that Saga found incredibly appealing. And they were not the only ones as the elf would stop and playfully flirt with men as well as women and often walk away with an extra coin or two on every order. The two lady barmaids did much the same, but it was clear the elf pulled in the most money.

The group approached the bar and the grizzled vet of a barkeep looked up, his face splitting into a genuine smile at the sight of Olaf. “Olaf!” He exclaimed with a booming voice that turned every single head in the establishment. Olaf for his part just grinned.

“Karn,” He said as the two men clasped their arms in greeting. Saga was surprised to find that Karn's arms were even thicker than even Olaf's. These two men were truly massive specimens of humans and Saga wondered if you just grew bigger and bigger if you kept increasing your brawn.

“You lot are back earlier than expected,” Karn spoke, looking over the group. “I see you swapped out the silent, smiling one for someone else.”

“Gothwald is going out on his own. He was only ever there to hunt some undead while we went and picked up this young warrior.” Olaf motioned to Saga, who suddenly felt several eyes on their person. Not one to shirk away when putting front and center, they stepped up.

“Saga Ljungborg” They reached their arm out and the barkeep took it. His hands were massive enough to wrap about their entire upper arm. As he did, Saga saw a message pop up.

{Karn Wintergale has asked to share information. Accept Y/N}

The message startled Saga at first, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes”

There was a slight tingle, as some sort of exchange took place, and then another status message popped up.

Karn Wintergale.

Paths: Wolfsbane. Barkeep.

Level 35:

Brawn: 32

Mind: 20

Spirit: 38

Grace: 20

Traits:

Jovial Companion:

Favored by animals

Mortal Enemy: Wolfskins

Soul of Stone.

Active Skills:

Battlecry, Level 10.

Rend, Level 10

Sanguine Howl, Level 5

Howls of terror, Level 5

Explosive Strength, level 3

Adrenaline Rush, level 5

Passive Skills:

Brink of Death.

Haggler

Fledgling Merchant

Powerful blows

Lupine Cunning

Ulven Resilience.

Saga noticed that they couldn't see any information on any of the skills or traits, just the names. As they looked up at the barkeep he was watching them with a thoughtful expression. Olaf raised an eyebrow at him as the man relinquished Saga's arm.

“You have an interesting air about you, Saga,” Karn said, leaning in. He gave her a single, red coin. It had a skull on one side, a rose on the other.

“When you meet the Lady. Offer this in tribute.” He said. A warm smile on his lips. “It is not often I meet another.”

“Another?” Saga asked, but the realization was dawning on them as they said it. This man was talking about other souls plucked by the Lady of Death.

“You know others like me,” Sagas asked, surprise evident in the way they suddenly had a hard time standing still, shifting from foot to foot.

“I did. Yes. My wife. We can talk about it later. When there are fewer people about.”

“Later is right. “ Ordan said, slapping down a single gold coin. “This should cover all our rooms, food for today, tomorrow, and the day after that, should we stay so long.” The other gave him a look. Karn simply palmed the coin as quickly as it appeared.

“I take it you won then,” Vetra asked, glancing over to the two men who looked at their dice with an expression known to all those who had ever gambled and lost.

“I only played two rounds. Barkeep, make sure they have all they can drink for the night. I don’t want to get stabbed over a game of dice. Again.” Ordan spoke as he waved to the two men who stared at him with barely contained hostility. “Now. I believe I am going to the alehouse to embrace the God of Ale and Revelry and you are going to the bathhouse to meet Ingrid, yes?” With that, Ordan slipped away towards the door and was gone before anyone could say anything.

“There's a god of ale?” Saga asked as they watched Ordan leave for the alehouse.

“There is a minor god of Alcohol and Indulgence,” Karn said. “He doesn't have any temples in his name but there isn't an alehouse or winery in the world without a small shrine to him.”

“Neat.” Saga said. “I think I’ll want to celebrate his existence. You got any mead?”

***