After a couple days at sea, the merchant vessel, The Emerald Destiny, made port at Skjoldheim. While normally, the merchants on the ship focused on the transport and trade of gems, they had a surplus of three-headed giant leopard seal thanks to a certain Fettore. While normally Uther wouldn’t care what they did with the corpse, the seal was a delicacy for his people. So, he demanded that it be brought and given to the people of his nation, the Skjolds.
While originally upset that they couldn’t have all the dead animal to eat and sell, the glare from the doomed man quickly stifled any protests. Still, the owners of the Emerald Destiny were professional merchants after all. Using their wit, they negotiated with the Fettore to have their cooks organize and prepare the meat and hide in order to keep fifty-percent of the remains. Realizing the demanding task of dealing with the corpse, Uther agreed. He was a hunter, not a butcher or a tanner. So, his ability to take care of the monstrous creature he killed would not be comparable to the cooks in the ship’s employ.
Uther gathered all his gear and departed off the ship. Aside from regular cloth, he wore the classic armor of all Fettore. It consisted of a cuirass made from the studded black leather of a shadowmire drake. It helped him to remain undetected during stealth while also improving his chances of detecting stealthed foes. Shoulder pauldrons and boots made of the same material were equipped as well. Tied around his shoulders and draped over his back was the telltale grey cloak that was the pride of every member of their order.
Name: Fettore Cloak of the Cloud Elemental
Type: Item – Apparel (Enchanted)
Quality: Masterwork
Rarity: Mythic
Effect: The wearer can trigger the “Cloud Form” spell for a period of 1 minute once daily. The enchantment grants the wearer’s body the ability to become semi-incorporeal, allowing them to take significantly reduced damage from all physical attacks and even from some magical attacks. The wearer can use the cloak to blend with misty environments for effective camouflage or to evade detection.
Description: 1 of the set of 100 cloaks worn by the elite warrior clan of Skjoldheim known as the Fettore. This magical adornment was crafted by using the body of a cloud elemental so powerful it had become a patron and thread with hair from the mane of the god-beast Sleipnir. This cloak has been infused with a portion of Gungnir’s Power. As such, its magic may only be activated by a Fettore.
The cloak itself was a status symbol. To be made from a patron and a god-beast was no small feat. Patron was the classification for the being that had somehow accumulated so much power, that it could form a pact with a lesser creature. A god-beast was also a patron, but at such a level that the system recognized them as divine beings. Many Skjoldheim citizens instantly noticed Uther and his cloak and bowed in deference while the guards saluted the Fettore with a fist to their hearts. They all wore a mix of brown leather armor and chain mail. While they all had a spear like Uther, many of them also had a sword or bow on their person as well. They were all honorable warriors that protected their island nation, but none had been blessed with a bond by Gungnir. None of the people possessed the magic mark of honor on their temples or the high-quality enchanted gear. Still, Uther trusted their capabilities more than many others throughout the world.
Where all Fettore were individuals were their bracers. Upon their initiation into the elite warrior clan, each Fettore is gifted with bracers made from the body of their most dangerous solo kill. Uther wore the nearly black, spotted leather hide of a saber-tooth tiger. It gave no magical effect like the rest of his gear did, but it did well to keep him warm in cold climates. The doomed wore a necklace adorned with one of the cat’s long canines too.
As he neared the city’s walls, he could hear some of the guards whisper “Saberbane” to each other. A few of them traded looks of fear at the name. Uther didn’t pay it much mind. His bloodthirsty reputation had served him well in times of conflict. He didn’t see any need to change it.
The entire island nation of Skjoldheim was protected by a wall three-hundred feet wide and fifty feet thick. The entire island was without exaggeration, a fortress. It was in no part due to these walls and the people that guard them as to why Skjoldheim has never been conquered and it’s people can operate independent of the Empire’s control. Uther walked through one of the smaller doorways into a tunnel through the thick wall. Uther’s darkvision and training helped him to easily spot the various murderholes and trapdoors strategically located in the tunnel.
After a minute, he made it across the wall and into the city-state proper. He was greeted with the sight of his adopted homeland. Large wooden longhouses dotted the hilly landscape. Smaller stone shops and taverns could be seen interspersed as well. This outer section of Skjoldheim was more rural as it possessed some of the nation’s most productive farmlands not far in. Uther could even see the beginnings growing crops in the distance, the elevating hills allowed hime to see them over some of the taller buildings.
Despite Uther’s reputation, he couldn’t keep a small smile from cresting his face. This place was his home and it brought him joy to see it again. The smell of the salty ocean air intermixed with local flowers bringing about a surprisingly fresh scent to the air despite the contrast. Children were running around, playing tag over to his right, and he saw some teens and young adult hopeful guards being tested by experienced soldiers of Skjoldheim.
Uther knew that some Fettore looked down on the guards, but being an outsider adopted into a Skjoldheim house, he didn’t. Had things been different, he himself would have also been trained as a common guard. It was not a bad life at all, but Uther did prefer his position amongst the Fettore and the freedom it gave. A couple of the new guards similar in age to himself noticed Uther, and they looked at him with respect, admiration, or even pure envy in one case. Uther didn’t back down from their stares. He looked right back and raised his chin slightly, inviting any of them to challenge him. He was used to the rivalry.
By the barracks, he saw a fellow Fettore. He was a human and father to one of Uther’s most difficult rivals amongst his warrior clan. Thinking about that particular rival did irritate him slightly, but he quickly wiped the scowl away from his face upon the thought. Though his comrade’s attitude was..challenging, he was still a brother-in-arms and an ally.
Uther took in a deep, calming breath and exhaled. He was glad to be home. After this most recent job, he planned to relax, spend his newly earned coin to upgrade his spear and tend to his armor. Then, he would go back out to hunt more. While Uther loved Skjoldheim and its people, part of him never wanted to stay for too long. Maybe it was because he was adopted into the nation instead of born into it, maybe it was his Hunter profession, but he felt the best while traveling the world of Eldryndr. Truly, it was the freedom that brought him joy.
Excited about his next adventure, he began his trek to his humble home not far from the protective wall. He didn’t make it three steps before he heard someone call his name.
“Fettore Saberbane! Fettore Saberbane!”
Uther turned back and looked up. Coming down the wall on one of the lifts was a guard. Uther was surprised to see another doomed. The majority of Skjoldheim’s people were humans, orcs, dwarves, and quite a few faun. People of Uther’s race tended to prefer to be in warmer climates, not like the typically cooler climate of Skjoldheim. Their demonic bloodline making them much more at ease. Uther’s intense training was the only reason he had even just his slight cold resistance. Still, though he never stated it, he wasn’t a fan of the cold.
“A message for you, sir. It’s from Jarl Frogruuf herself.” The man said as he handed the small roll of sealed parchment over to the Fettore.
Uther noticed an interesting tattoo on the guard’s forearm, but didn’t say anything as he took the proffered parchment. He quickly broke the seal and opened it, discovering he had been summoned to the jarl’s longhouse to discuss a new job that requires his aid. Excited at the possibility, Uther put the scroll in his pocket and thanked the guard. He noticed the guard wanted to say something but seemed hesitant. So, to help him out, Uther turned back and asked, “Your tattoo, what is it?”
“Oh, this?” He pointed to his forearm. “It’s the five tenants of the Fettore Creed. There’s strength, honor, loyalty, wisdom, and home. It’s written in Old Norse, the language of Odin.”
Uther nodded, knowing all that already. The tenants are vague and up to interpretation. Many Fettore have fought over different interpretations of the five tenants with the jarl ultimately having to be the tiebreaker. Still, Uther did live by those tenants every day. “You wish to become a Fettore?”
“Y..yes sir.” The doomed said hopefully.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Ifri, Ifri Enflame, sir.”
“Ifri Enflame,” Uther repeated to make sure he committed it to memory.
The guard continued, “If I may be so bold, how did you become one? You’re only the second doomed to ever succeed in joining the one-hundred.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Uther let out an involuntary exhale. There can only ever be one-hundred Fettore at a time. Gungnir never gave out more than ninety-nine bonds and one pact. It was the maximum for any patron who’d reached divine level. “It is not easy.” Uther said. The guard opened his mouth and was about to speak again, but stopped after Uther raised a finger. “It is possible, though. The three things that you will need is endurance, persistence, and the ability to survive. I have gotten as far as I have because no matter what pain I had to push through, what trial I ever underwent, I survived in the end. I didn’t always win, but I lived. If I live, I can win next time. Commit that to heart, Ifri Enflame.”
“Aye sir.” The doomed guard said and put a hand to his chest, a hopeful look to his face. Uther saluted back and then went over to the barracks. With his new summons and status as one of the Fettore, he easily acquired a mount to use. Uther’s steed was a little wild but did eventually listen to him, and he was able to make the half-day journey to the Jarl’s longhouse by foot in a couple hours. The center of the island where Skoldheim resides has an active volcano, so the jarl’s stronghold is not there. Instead, it was more located to the south, which helped Uther out a great deal.
When he made it to the impressive longhouse where the Jarl resided, Uther hopped off the exhausted horse and promptly went to the front door. Two of his fellow Fettore stood guard at the door. They wore a bright red clasp that kept their cloaks together marking them as some of the most superior fighters among the Fettore. They were known as the Reforged.
They were criminals who had once either had a bond or pact. Instead of death, they agreed to have their agreements broken and and forge a new one to Gungnir, hence their name. Uther learned it was best to keep his distance from the Reforged. While strong, their loyalty lied only to the Jarl and Gungnir. With others, they were more..unstable. Hence they rarely left Skjoldheim.
The two Reforged blocked Uther’s entrance by crossing their spears.
“What business do you have being here?” Asked one of the two after stifling a yawn. Uther didn’t dare look at the man directly in his eyes. He knew of the tired one, Carlos the lax. The faun reforged always seemed like he was on the cusp of sleep, but Uther knew the truth. He was as deadly as violent as they came when provoked.
“A summons from the jarl herself.” Uther answered while lifting up the rolled parchment.
Carlos casually took the scroll and read it over. With another yawn, he and the other Reforged moved their spears away. “Proceed.” He said with such apathy it was almost surprising that he truly was the zealot bodyguard his reputation claimed him to be.
Uther readily complied, pushing open the large wooden doors to enter the Jarl’s place of power. In the large open chamber, sitting on an elevated throne in the back was Jarl Frogruuf. She was a brutish orc. Though in her fifties, none of her power had waned with age. She exuded a power that could snuff Uther out in an instant. Her body seemed to barely contain her muscles as veins visible protruded in multiple areas of her heavily scarred green skin.
The Jarl wore the same armor as Uther, except the black leather notably adorned in silver filigree. Uther noticed finely crafted runes carved into the armor, giving the already powerful leather armor additional magic power. Like Uther, her face was scared, but whereas he had two vertical ones, she only had one. Still, it was a wicked-looking hooked and crooked scar that went from the middle of her forehead, over and past her right ear, then down in a crooked descent along her neck. Her thick grey hair was braided and held in a ponytail, and she had the same magic brand of Gungnir on her left temple.
The woman exuded a power that Uther couldn’t hope to match. While he only possessed a bond to Gungnir, the jarl was a pacted to it. The orc leader of the Fettore and nation of Skjoldheim always had an air of paranoia to her. Keeping numerous guards around her despite her strength was an example of that. She was always focused on the future and “the fight to come.” Apparently, it was a side-effect to being pacted to the Gungnir. The weapon was preparing, and wanted others to grow in preparation for some great battle, maybe a second cataclysm? Uther wasn’t sure, and he didn’t question the wisdom of his patron or its champion.
While Jarl Frogruuf exuded impressive strength, the thing that was most impressive about her was her source of strength, her weapon. Held upright in her right hand and braced against the floor, was Gungnir, the magical masterwork artifact that held god-level power. It’s power filled the chamber to such a level that it would be oppressive to any the artifact or its wielder deemed an enemy. The shaft was made from some strange green wood and ornately carved with runes that gave off a subtle gold-colored glow. The spearhead was black as night with a hook-shaped blade that looked to be adorned to take on the form of a raven based on the golden lining. The pommel of the spear was sharpened to a fine point and made of the same black metal the head of the weapon possessed.
“Ah, Uther Krillku. The bane of the sabertooth. Gungnir tells me your mission in the Diamond Dynasty was a success.” She tapped the weapon on the floor once for emphasis. The divine artifact released a subtle wave of power from that action that struck Uther and nearly made him stumble. It was humbling how just a mere tap of the weapon on the ground could nearly incapacitate him.
She was flanked on both sides by two more Reforged, one of which was her personal advisor, another orc named Durgoth the precise. He seemed an enanthema to the jarl. While she was overflowing with bulging muscles, he was notably thin and leaner, especially for an orc. Durgoth always kept himself well-groomed too. Uther couldn’t recall a time where the orc had a hair out of place on his finely-kept mustache. Still, his organization was obsessive and he’d almost killed Skjoldheim citizens after they got into an alcohol-induced brawl in the jarl’s longhouse.
The two Reforged that flanked the jarl tensed as Uther got closer, but before they could react, he took a knee and bowed before the orc woman. “It was, my jarl.” He said with a fist to his heart. I brought strength and honor to the Fettore and the people of Skjoldheim.”
“Good,” she replied. “We’ll need that strength for the fight to come.” She stood and walked over to Uther. “Stand.”
Uther did, keeping his fist to his heart in salute.
“You know there were plenty who were against your ascension from apprentice to Fettore after the death of Ronnie. I knew though. I knew after I saw the unbridled fury in your eyes after you brought the corpse of the beast that had taken your master, you were worthy to join our ranks. It was your fury and disdain for beasts that resonated with Gungnir, and it all but leaped to give you its power.”
Uther’s red face darkened slightly. To receive such praise was a great honor to him.
“Now look at you. Despite your youth, you are a famed hunter, the “beast killer,” the “saberbane.”” She listed off. “It is because of your ferocity, that Gungnir and I have assigned a special job for you.
“You have but to ask, my Jarl.” Uther said excitedly.
“The Nilelands Empire has offered the Fettore an exclusive job. This is not one meant for the public to know about, but it comes with a lot of..significance.” As if on cue, a quest prompt came up on Uther’s view.
Quest Alert!
To Snuff Out A Threat
The Nilelands Empire has learned of the presence of a sea monster hiding along the edge of the eastern peninsula of the Nilelands itself. It is a danger to the people there and is rumored to be multiplying. If the threat can be contained however, that would be preferable to allow the Empire’s alchemists to study and learn from the creatures.
Requirements:
Subdue or kill the monsters hiding in the coast of the eastern peninsula of the Nilelands. Give all living creatures to the Imperial Alchemist.
Reward:
15 Free Stat Points
2 new abilities from Gungnir
500 gold per monster kept alive. Gold halved per death.
Apprenticeship under Jarl Frogruuf herself.
Improved relations between the Skjoldheim and the Nilelands Empire.
Do you accept?
Yes/No
Uther’s breath caught in his throat then he mentally minimized his quest screen. “Eh. My jarl, is this real?” He asked in disbelief. Unless one was a pact-wielder, the System didn’t regularly give quests. They happened more regularly with bond-wielders than being unpacted, but neither even came close to the frequency of those who have truly formed a pact.
And the rewards were…astounding. Fifteen free stat points to allocate was unheard of for a mere bond-wielder. Plus, earning not one but two new abilities from Gungnir was amazing. All Fettore desire to gain more and more abilities from the divine artifact, but it only blesses those with certain amounts of its power when it wishes. One would be lucky to get a new ability from the spear every five years. To get two so quickly was unheard of.
The jarl gave a toothy grin and nodded in affirmation to Uther’s question.
“And you wish to make me your apprentice?!”
“Truly.”
“My jarl,” Durgoth interjected. “Surely you do not wish to make this upstart who got his previous fool of a master killed to be worthy of serving under you.”
Anger arose in Uther as he snapped his head to glower at the thin orc. His muscles tenses and he subconsciously summoned his spear to his hand. “Durgoth the precise, tell me who’s really the fool; the man who died in glorious battle or the envious lapdog who’s bark is louder than his bite?” Uther spat. He had every intention of not starting a fight with any of the Reforged. He knew he couldn’t win, but he could not stand having his master insulted.
The thin orc glared right back at Uther. He growled and summoned his own spear, this one extremely thin and tapered to a fine point. Uther could tell it was specialized and a lot better quality than the one he used. Uther could feel the deadly intent and power coming from the orc and his weapon. Both were so much more focused that Uther could replicate. In a clash of spears, Uther finally realized he would lose.
“Enough!” The jarl asserted. She moved herself in between the two and used her will to suppress both Durgoth and Uther. “We are all of the same army, sisters and brothers-in-arms. You should do well to remember that, the both of you!” She said shifting her gaze to each of the Fettore. Frogruff then raised a finger and pointed at Durgoth. “Durgoth.”
“Yes, my jarl?”
“First, Ronnie Krillku will forever be part of our clan even after death as he thrives in the halls of Elysium. You shall never sully his name again. Second, to question my decisions is to question the whole of Skjoldheim. If you have a problem with how I run things, you can challenge me. Are we clear?”
Durgoth’s eyes widened before he took a knee and pressed his right fist to his heart. “Yes, my jarl.”
As soon as she turned away from the Reforged though, he glared directly at Uther, his eyes promising violence at the doomed. Uther gave a subtle smile, equal parts of joy at the validation of his master by the Jarl and fear upon understanding that he just provoked one of the Reforged.
“So, Uther Krillku, bane of the saber tooth, do you accept my offer?” The Jarl asked.
Uther made an “Oh” face on the realization that he’d minimized the quest screen. The doomed quickly opened back and accepted the quest. Excited for the honor it would bring him as well as the rewards, it wasn’t a hard decision for the young Fettore to make.