Hofborg, Warrior's Respite (Location)

User ID: @sinath41

House: Antiquarian's Alpine Gallery

Location Name: Warrior's Respite

Brief Description

Heading along the old cobbled path within the Spirit Woods one will come to a weathered wooden gate along a stone wall guarded by the rock-hewn visage of Ysgramor. Here marks the path ascending into the foothills, leading onward towards the Warrior’s Respite, the meadhall of the Companions of the Hammer of Atmora.

Max Population: 24

History

And so it came, in the twilight of my years, that I found myself alone. The hammer still rung and the fire still roared, both stirred to life by mine own hand. But a great shadow had fallen over the once hallowed Hammer Hall. My companions, brothers and sisters all, gone from me by fates unyielding hand. Far and wide where duty might take them, did those that still draw breath travel across these lands. If still they walk the path of steel, gods be praised! By Kyne's unrelenting storms did I pray for this to be so. The honored dead are many more. Their names, never forgotten. Let the tomes we keep, the stories we tell, and the golden tongues of Skalds see that it remains this way. A relic of glorious days long passed, I feared I had become.

By the light of a red dawn, as the warmth of Summer drew to it's close, did I leave all that once was behind and set out to find one last great deed. If death was to be the prize that awaited me at journey's end, this voice would lift to Sovngarde and rejoice. What a fool was I, to think after endless winters that I could foresee what fate should offer. There, on the icy banks of Eastmarch, north of the City of Kings, did I find a new purpose. Looking out, beyond the Ghost Sea horizon towards Old Atmora, much like our great father did in his waning days, and lo a sound did break the tranquility of my ponderings. Turning about to the hills beyond I saw her. Regal and proud, perched atop the snow capped pine. She bid me follow, and I am wise to know that refusal of the sister hawk's beckoning is the doom of a northman. For a time I made my way over snow and stream, through frozen field and grey stone. A forest then, a blessed place I was sure. The spirit world was strong there, and my own did delight in the presence of this ancient power. A quiet town beyond, Hofborg I recalled, having stopped briefly two winters before for supplies.

The winged herald would end her flight at the edge of this sacred place, and call to me once more atop a most curious and ancient idol. Their faces shown like my forefathers, and they kept watch over a blackened pit. Surely a sign, a boon from the Storm-Mother I exclaimed as I felt the air rising from within this sacred pit as if it were a natural billows. I decided with haste that such a gift would not be squandered, and here I would lay a forge fit for the glory of Ysgramor's heirs.

It was here that I once again felt called to set down roots, felling timber from the mighty forest and hewing stone from the steadfast mountain, and constructing a grand meadhall. It is here, within this oaken Hall and serene landscape that we will continue to foster the Old Ways, to live with honor and seek glory till the end. Together we shall fill it with proof of valorous deeds as evident by the trophies we display. Laughter and fellowship will be the music of the honor-oathed, as we lift our horns and wet our tongues with honied mead.

Points of Interest

Point of Interest

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