Once ago, the lands of Porta stood united under a Great king. The king's name was that of someone so sacred that it became the thing of legend. It became so that no one could be named such a name again.

King Theön the 'Reaper' of Njelheim. He came from the city of darkness, the fifth son to the lord of the large province. There was no chance of him becoming a lord, much less a king of all Norhtmen. Yet after hells plague swept across the entire norht the lone son stood stop a castle of body's and a kingdom of problems. 

He did not let it conquer him! He let it drive him. He would remember his father, and his brothers all what they would have fought for. The kingdom grew and grew. Across the plains, the forests, and mountains of Porta. Even crossing the Scorn mountains into Scornia, subsueing the hordes that lived there! They called him the reaper after claiming so many bodies in his conquest, that it was said you could fill the halls of Valhalla with them all.

He had built a strong kingdom, the strongest in all of midgärd! Yet that was not enough to save it after his passing. His children split the lands all vying for the throne in njelheim. That is where they meant! All 8 brothers met at njelheim to fight for the throne each an army bigger then the next. The biggest battle in the history of our realm happened at njelheim.

Over one hundred thousand dead norhtmen lay in the streets of the grand city. And not one brother topped the pile, as all had parished in the battle, and the city of njelheim burned to the ground, lost to the land of Porta. Some say the gods are behind the burning of the city, as no man could completely wipe such a grand city off the maps. No matter what the children of Theön are responsible for the divisions we see on our lands to this day. Now no kings rule, simply tribe leaders and jarls.

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"Like father?" The woman closes the book glancing back to the young boy on the bed.

"Exactly young Ailod!"

"Your father is chief to our tribe!" She raises her hands into the air.

"The tribe of Tyrör!" 

The door to the room flys open. 

"The 'great' tribe of Tyrör my dearest wife!"

"Of course Harldr!" The girl laughs standing up and stretching.

"My son!" Harldr sits down on the boys bed.

"You know what tomorrow is right?"

"Of course father!"

"I believe you are ready to raid then!"

"I have been practicing for years father!"

"Djørn and i shall protect you my child, especially since we go to somewhere new this raid!"

"Where father?"

"If it's not the Yankish, Easternmen, scorians, or Laftmen, then who father?"

"It's a secret!" The man whisper to Ailod.

"Father you know i hate secrets!"

"That is why i keep them!"

The boy sits in silence.

"Get rest Ailod."

"We sail tomorrow."

"I had to make your first raid special my son."

"I shall sleep like a full bear tonight!"

"As you should my young cub, for tomorrow you become a man, and a raider of Tyrör!"

The man hugs his son, kissing his forehead. 

"May Odin grant us faith and fortune tomorrow."

"Goodnight cub."

"Goodnight father."

That was the last word I'd ever spoken to him.