Nukumi III the Sirius
The Galactic Endeavor
Age: 14 years, 10 months, 5 days
Born: March 13th, 2005
Adopted: 14 years, 10 months, 5 days ago (Legacy)
Adopted: March 13th, 2005 (Legacy)
- Level: 831
- Strength: 2,077
- Defense: 2,074
- Speed: 2,117
- Health: 2,073
- HP: 2,007/2,073
- Intelligence: 1,096
- Books Read: 1080
- Food Eaten: 5
- Job: Agent
I sit the halls of Valhalla and wonder at the tales the skald have passed down through the ages. The ones they tell of me are oft confusing and carry only the faintest echo of truth. Once I was Sigurd son of Sigmund, that much they got right. Yes my father died whilst I was young, but not before I was born. The part they got completely wrong was about Fafnir who was no true dragon, just a man with greed in his heart.
I was raised to be a warrior. My father trained hard and was killed in battle before I was old enough to hold a war axe. My uncle took me under his wing and trained me in the ways of our tribe. How to throw an axe, defend with a shield, track enemies down who have run and end their lives for their impudence. Our tribe warred with those around us but rarely. Until Fafnir.
Fafnir was a handsome man from a neighbouring tribe, The women of his tribe looked favourably upon him and many a maiden wished that he would seek her hand. Fafnir considered none of them worthy. Our tribes traded frequently and one spring when the trading fair was set in the clearing at the centre of our village Fafnir saw the beauty of my sister Brunhild. Fair my sister was, with hints of sunset in her golden locks, eyes of bright stone blue and pale cream for skin. Fafnir had no chance. He pled with me and my uncle but his lack of status in his own tribe meant the match would not bring advantage to my family.
Disappointed he set himself upon a path to increase his worth within his tribe in the hope of gaining our approval. He hunted the riverbeds for gold to trade for better weapons. Stirring up the hearts of the other young men in his tribe he began to raid other smaller tribes for their treasures. He gained status from the suffering of others. Fafnir found he had a taste for it.
Other friendly tribes came to us to appeal for our help. We were not the largest but had power and political capital. We created a war band to defend our people and set off to find Fafnir and put an end to his pillaging.
Our war band found Fafnir raiding a small village far afield. Blowing the battle horn brought Fafnir to a stop as he turned to see me. Calling out to his men put a stop to their pillage and he approached us to talk.
His terms were ridiculous. My sister for his gold.
My uncle explained to him that my sister was promised to another, a worthy man from another neighbouring tribe, the son of their chieftain. It was a fitting match and she was not unhappy with it. They would be married in the summer.
Fafnir did not listen, instead offering larger and larger sums of treasure. My uncle stood next to me staring at this mad man incredulously. Political capital and closer bonds with our neighbours was the bride price of our women. It kept us safe where wealth could not. Realising he was not going to receive a favourable response from us Fafnir attacked my uncle and slew him with a short sharp blow from his war axe.
Both sides reacted. Our band went for Fafnir and his band came for us. Fafnir blocked and retreated to his men, then they surged forward. We had more men, they had more experience. It was slaughter.
Like many who fell that day I was brought by the Valkyrie to Valhalla. It was strange seeing men who had fought against me and mine also lifted in strong arms winging their way together towards our afterlife.
All Einherjar are brothers in arms, we fight each day and feast each night. Preparing ourselves for Ragnarok. There is no space for hatred between us when our true goal is much loftier.
Here in the halls of Valhalla I have seen Fafnir but once. I think he knows revenge still burns like dragon fire in my heart.
Einherjar - spirits of deceased elite warriors that dwell in Valhalla.
Ragnarok - the Twilight of the Gods.
Skald - ancient Scandinavian word for composer and reciter of poems honouring heroes and their deeds. Loosely "poet".
Valhalla - the hall of the fallen, home to spirits of the dead who are deemed worthy by Odin.
Valkyrie - handmaidens of Odin, they carry the spirits of the deceased to Valhalla.
Thanks to Chen for picking up the name for me and holding on to him till I could buy a new space
art by Chen
base profile code by Meow do not use without permission
minor profile code edits by Masquerade
story by Masquerade
Este Evvu Skipari Tunic
Tattered Ancient Tunic
Greige Braided Belt
Hand-honed Miniature Sica
Delish Inspire Pants
Dark Brown Soft Boots
Copper Twist Armlet
Bronze Drinking Horn
Pilsener Beer Horn
Fireside Roast Turkey
Candied Sugar Plums