Leon's Roar/Issue v2i2/Blackmane Interview

Feature Interview: The Last of the Vikings

By Lazlo Lemont II

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I first found Edgar Blackmane in a dark Shanandoah bar, a large and imposing figure raucously enjoying his drink in the corner of the room. His muscles bulged as he swilled the flagon back, swigging the remaining contents in a single gulp. Throwing the cup down, he hurled a commanding "More!" to the nearby bar wench, but there was nothing abrasive about it. His demeanor was very clearly one of strength and voracious appetite- the sort of man who would just as soon spend his time swinging an axe as he would drinking or loving. In short, he was just the sort of man I imagined the inhabit the role of the last Viking in Atamara. Vikings have had a long and ancient impact on the continent of Atamara, be it in their conquest or religion. The Way of the Hammer still holds strong in the North of Minas Leon (as detailed in the last issue of the Leon's Roar!). No less than four realms, including the Barony of Makar, explicitly claimed viking heritage - Norland and its successor state Hammarsett, the Barony of Makar (which was formed after the breakup of the Barony of Icegate) and its own seceded portion in Heorot. When the Norland and Barony forces united to fight, their might was a force to be reckoned with- a lesson which the realms of Eston and Minas Ithil often learned at their peril. Edgar Blackmane, the twenty year old Dictator who sits before me, is too young to have commanded troops in any of these engagements. His commitment to the Viking cause and way of life, though, should not be understated - he rose in the ranks of Viking nobility during their very fight for survival, and immediately pledged himself to the front lines. "When the Barony fall, I had cut 88 heads of enemies..." he boasts, pausing only to calculate the exact number. He follows this up with a rather threatening (given the recent revelation) wink. "Not enough for my pyramid of heads (all good Vikings have one!), but I'm still young!" The inaugural issue of The Leon's Roar detailed the capitulation of the Barony of Makar after a long and bloody struggle alongside Darka, caught up in the vicious hooves of fate that have trampled over many realms in The Great Atamaran War. As the final Viking Realm in Atamara, it was truly a momentous and, to a degree, sad occasion. Edgar Blackmane's bellowing voice almost chokes as he details the time. "The Cagilan army reached our lands," he said, his eyes taking a darker color, "...it was an enormous army. So we fight a impossible battle against them. But even then, we had Icegate!" His eyes jumped at the mention of the stronghold, his fist slamming the table for emphasis. "We know the Cagilans will take our capital, but we have a strong fortress, and the enemy army, after a long march and the battles, will not be able to take both." He smiles sweetly, as sweetly as a Viking could muster. "...our capital and stronghold..." But the Cagilans, with their Rieleston allies, were able to take the capital. Edgar almost seems to begin regaling a triumphant tale. "At first we only battle Lyonesse and Rieleston. We did good against them, we destroyed army after army. Three of four times they were bested, we even killed the Lyonesse general!" At this he throws his fist, mug in hand, into the air, splashing alcohol about him. A flash of anger courses through his body as he continues, though. "It was Meadowcrest's treachery the thing who destroyed the Barony! He put our last possible capital in the hands of our most hated enemy. Without any city, the Barony was doomed..." His body slumps over the table at this thought, clearly overwrought from the energy of the tale. Icegate was ceded to Rieleston, the Barony relegated to the forests of Tellwood until that, too, was ceded to Lyonesse. Believing the final days of the Barony to be a tumult of duels and fights to the death, I asked Edgar how he came to hold the title of Dictator. Surely some sort of exciting tale lay afoot! Edgar laughed darkly at my request. "How I ended as Dictator? Losing all the rest of your realm peers!" He offered a rueful smile. "Some died, others left the island, a few go to Lyonesse. In the end only two Vikings remained fighting until the last men. Now only I remain, the last Viking." Since the fall of the Barony, Dictator Blackmane has traveled the land, seeking assistance in establishing a new Viking realm on Atamara. "The 'soft' noblemen they are so common nowadays..." he utters dismissively, detailing the struggle he has had in his quest. "After the fall, I traveled without any destiny. Yes, I send a letter to the rulers of the island, asking for a city to found a mercenary realm..." He squares his jaw. "Obviously I had no hopes: what I could offer but honour?" Another rueful laugh. "And this is a cheap coin this days!" Time began to run short for me; my men were expecting me back in my base camp, and I was to detail the orders for the following day. I pressed him further, asking what he is truly to do. He is a man with no followers, no aid. A king with no land. Dictator Blackmane shrugs his shoulders and swigs the remnants of his mug. "I really don't know. I go from region to region... I could find a new realm, but then the Viking barony would be truly destroyed." His eyes grow misty once more. "The only realm of true fighting men!" His empty mug sits for only a moment before being filled by the sympathetic bar wench. "...It's a shame...but no, I will not leave this island! And someday a new Viking state will arise again!!" In a moment, the joy, the danger, the pride - all these emotions flood his face at once. There is no doubt that, even should he be embarking upon a quixotic quest, he intends to follow through. Thus, I change my tact, laying coin on the table to pay for the many drinks we have imbibed thus far. What sort of legacy does he imagine the Barony leaving? The Vikings? A thoughtful, serious look overtakes his face as he pauses for a moment and chews a lip. "Legacy?... I don't know..." Suddenly a flash of inspiration takes him. He raises his glass to me and I return the gesture. "We fought like men against our enemies! With honour and valour, in the battlefield, only to be destroyed for the treachery!" He finally takes his glass back and takes a swig. I cautiously follow, but it becomes apparent he has not finished. "Maybe our only legacy is this: Maybe the honour will not give you the victory, but honour is the only thing nobody can take from you." Wise words, ones which haunt me on my way back to camp, stumbling away from the distant laughter of a man three years younger than me, a man who has seen the fall of an age firsthand: The last of the Vikings. -(Editor's Note : Just prior to the publishing of this article, the author discovered that Sir Edgar Blackmane had joined the realm of Darka, and Carystus Scarysbrig -the same man who signed the capitulation of the Barony and had been quoted in Issue I of the Leon's Roar- had rejoined the realm and ascended to the role of Dictator. As such, as a matter of technicality, he is the Last Viking currently. Nonetheless, the sentiment and truth of this aforementioned Interview stands.)

The views expressed in this feature are not intended as a reflection upon the Leadership of Minas Leon nor their views. All views expressed within belong solely to their authors.