The Winter Lords (Bard)

Geoffrey Blackwood

As is common knowledge, the Winter Dark lasted for 11 centuries. Locked in the grip of that long winter the world and all that dwelt therein struggled to survive. Though many crops withered and died, never to thrive beneath the Shroud of Darkness that forever hung over the world, others did, and these gave men, and their sons, food to survive. Beasts ate the food and in turn fed other beasts and the world eventually settled into new patterns of life and death. That is the nature of things.

In the lands of Aachen, that long hold out against Unklar and his Winter Dark, men never forgot the sun, the warmth and prosperity it brought and the age that had come before. Though oppressed by the Lords of Aufstrag and forced to serve them, the men of Aachen passed down their memories in song and verse. The bards of those realms of Aachen, the Detmold, Heristadt, and Harz came to be specially apprised by the inhabitants. Fires were stoked, drink warmed and food brought out whenever a bard arrived. Fed and offered safety from the road, they in turn told tales of wonder and delight. They sang stories of fearless heroes who stood ever against the dark tide of rule and they cursed the dark lord’s motto, carved in stone upon the heights of the Aragon Den “The yoke shall set you free”.

Even while the fire’s flame warmed the bards from the winter’s road, their tales warmed the hearts of the men.

Geoffrey Blackwood left home as a young man. His father was a kindly man and his mother too, and they wished no trouble on anyone, nor asked for any. They were content with Aufstrag’s rule. They lived simple lives as yeoman, without ambition but too much fear. Geoffrey chided at their acceptance of law and he himself cast it off and took to the road. He made his way slowly in the world, but once he found his voice he learned that with it he could talk to men and convince them to aid him or take on tasks they would not otherwise have assumed. Too, he learned that his tales, told around many a vagabonds camp fire, fired men’s souls with a passionate heat.

It proved well for him that his uncle loved the tales of the days gone by and had passed many on to him. These became his bread and his butter, his warmth and comfort.

Within a few short years his fame grew throughout all the lands of Aachen. Lords sought his presence at their tables, guilds called for him at their feasts; commoners welcomed him into hearth and home, and travelers through more wood upon the fire whenever he came to camp.

His words carried more than song; to hear them fired the hearts of men. The tales he told cast them into the years when the sun shone and men were free. To hear him was to don armor and helm, to take up axe and shield, and tread into the wilderness that was the dark. Heroes born of song became a longing in the breasts of men. So that in time whoever Blackwater met, he left a different man, one longing to be the song, to drive back the dark winter and win back their freedom.

In time, his song led to open war and he himself took up the gray sword and waged war. The sons of petty lords at first; footloose travelers with weapons and armor but no cause found in Blackwater a reason. And they called on him to lead them and they slew their masters. Others followed, guildsmen, adventurers, men with little to lose and these cleared the forest haunts of the Detmold of all the folk of Aufstrag. Others joined then, greater lords and guild masters and these brought bands of men until Blackwaters ranks swelled into the thousands and they left the forests and cleared all the Harz and most of the Heristadt to the sea.

But Aufstrag took notice and sent forth a vast army to quell the rebellion. Thus began the Blackwater War. For many long years they fought. Blackwater’s men gained aid from around Aachen, but the people of Aufstrag were accounted numberless and their wealth knew no end. For seven years, the war waged on until at last Blackwater’s army fell at the Battle of Baden Hill. There he was captured and taken to Aufstrag to suffer the torments of that hell on earth.

Brought before the throne he faced the Horned God in all his might and power. The beastly god stared upon him and goaded Blackwater with taunts. Without flinching the bard began a tale of the All Father’s coming tothe world and the order of things as he set them. Unklar listened and in time was lulled by the rhythmic voice of the bard so that he swooned, if only for a moment.

But the moment passed and Unklar rose in his rage, and crossing the floor on cloven hooves, he lifted Blackwater by his head and neck and cursed him. His breath foul and filled with the stink of hate unmade the bard and sought to recast him in the guise of a vulture; but Blackwater cast his own voice into the spell and turned its purpose so that he took the shape of a raven and falling from the dark god’s grasp he flew the hall and out into the cold air.

Though hunted by all the minions of Aufstrag, Blackwater escaped into the wilds. He returned, or so it is said, to the lands of Aachen and dwelt there ever after, a raven of great wisdom who fills the minds of men with the glory of yesterday.