Voyage's End

For over two months, the remnants of your clan have been at sea. At first the Bera was alone, fleeing to the West as Hyboria burned. Messenger birds directed you to other Norse ships, and for a month you traveled with a fleet of fifty vessels. A desperate plan formed throughout the fleet: the ships would sail into the uncharted West and find new land, where your enemies would not harass you, where the Gods might still speak.

But after a month, a great squall swept across the sea. When it cleared, your ship was alone. With no other option, you continued to the West. You defended your clan against tritons, wurms, and zombie penguins, to name a few. The Bera is less crowded than when you departed, sadly due to disease, drowning, and beasts. Two weeks ago, a falling star streaked across the sky, pointing directly to the west. Your falling spirits were bolstered, and the rowers picked up their pace. Then, finally, you sighted land.

The shoreline stretched across the horizon. It could be an island, but it must be larger than Hyboria was. The stars seem to indicate that you have been blown south from your home, and the climate is warmer. There is no sign of other ships in your fleet.

A shallow bay was located almost immediately, and you scouted the immediate square mile along with other longboats of clansmen. The wilds were relatively hospitable and full of game, although you found mostly flightless birds and reptiles. Everyone reported a safe wilderness, and your clan was unloaded.

One day has passed since landfall. The crew is busy felling trees to build a defensive wall, and eventually a longhouse. Earl Gaermund summons you and all the fighting men of the clan to receive your assignments.