What Happened Last Session
Authority and Arrangements
The docks at Rolug erupted into confrontation as Signe and Karlsgald traded accusations of betrayal, their voices rising over the sound of waves. The raid that left Signe scarred wasn’t just bad luck—Karlsgald had double-crossed her, stolen the plunder, and left her crew to die. The old wound, both literal and figurative, had never healed.
Carmin stepped into the chaos with the Axe of Nine Eyes in hand, his temporary Jarl status carrying weight neither rival could ignore. He brokered terms for the trial by combat at Drakenfjell, earning Signe’s respect and her immediate request: she’d sail with your party rather than share a boat with her betrayer. You agreed, and the journey began with one more volatile element added to an already explosive situation.
Secrets in Skargat
Skargat village revealed itself slowly, a settlement of roughly 400 souls wrapped in paranoia. The tavern keeper spoke carefully when asked about Brugatha, but the details were telling: during the last long dark, Olaf’s wife had transformed. More makeup, stronger perfumes, a personality shift that coincided perfectly with Olaf’s growing hostility toward the other seers. The timing was too precise to be coincidence.
You upgraded your equipment at the blacksmith—shields, chainmail for Crixbin—and pieced together a disturbing picture. Whatever Brugatha was, she wasn’t what she appeared to be. The heavy perfumes suggested something being masked, and Olaf’s paranoia had metastasized from reasonable caution into something darker. You left Skargat with more questions than answers, but the suspicions had hardened into something approaching certainty.
The Road Reveals Much
Between Skargat and Drakenfjell, the party made decisions that would have seemed impossible weeks ago. Kilmin’s revelation of 1,500 weapons—750 longbows, 750 greataxes—for populations that could barely field a hundred warriors painted a troubling picture. The scope of his operation went far beyond simple merchant opportunism.
You discussed options with brutal pragmatism. The political entanglements, the manipulation, the sense of being pawns in larger games—all of it had worn your patience to nothing. By the time bandits attacked your path (six desperate souls you dispatched with almost casual efficiency, despite Zahlie accidentally putting an arrow through Astrid), you’d reached consensus on a radical solution: eliminate the players, seize the resources, and disappear to Wildetide before the consequences could catch up.
When Gods Demand Payment
Crixbin’s healing prayer after the bandit encounter failed in a way that felt personal. Loki didn’t simply withhold divine power—he demanded penance. Five gold pieces, offered and burned, before the priest’s magic would function again. The gods were watching the journey to Drakenfjell, and their interest came with a price.
The divine intervention served as reminder that forces beyond mortal politics were invested in the tournament’s outcome. Loki’s involvement suggested the trial by combat carried implications you hadn’t fully grasped, and that escaping the isles’ conflicts might prove more complicated than simply stealing a boat and sailing away.
Looking Ahead
Drakenfjell awaits, a sacred site where the tournament will decide not just Jarl authority but the future of the Isles of Andrik themselves. Your plan to eliminate Kilmin and manipulate the trial to remove all the Jarls simultaneously is bold, brutal, and carries risks that multiply with every variable you can’t control. Brugatha’s true nature remains unproven but increasingly obvious, Signe’s revenge motivation makes her unpredictable, and the gods have demonstrated they’re watching events unfold with more than casual interest.
The tournament rules are set, the warriors are gathering, and you’ve armed yourselves with better equipment and a ruthless strategy. Whether that’s enough to survive what comes next—and whether the gods will permit your escape even if you succeed—remains an open question. Sometimes the most dangerous position isn’t being a pawn, but being the piece that tries to flip the board.
What glitters brightest in the dark often hungers most for blood.