The Way of the Aethir/Book of Bruce
1
Letter from Bruce Cruscavas
Message sent to all nobles of Sydgard
Brothers and sisters of Sydgard, The gods have spoken to me. I have resisted hearing their voices, telling myself that it was only my imagination, or just more voices in my head, but they are insistent. They demand that I tell you their stories, and spread them throughout our lands, and all the realms of the continent. Hear, now, then, of the Aethir.
In the beginning was the void, formless and chaos. The Creator, mother and father of all, Laguz, he who was and will be, looked out from his hall in Asgard and desired it to have form, for life desires form, and he desired life. Under his will, the world coalesced from the dust and ice, and The Father formed the mountains and rivers, the seas and the plains. Yet without life, the world was empty, so Laguz created his children, the Aethir.
Aea and Otho he birthed first, female and male. Aea walks bringing sunshine and light. Otho follows her bringing darkness and night. Where she walks is warmth, flowers bloom and grain sprouts. Where he follows is cold and wind, rain falls and night comes. Aea brings summer and vitality, Otho brings winter and rest. When they meet are spring and autumn, birth and death, planting and harvest. The sun is her sign, the moon is his.
Next he birthed Angven and Orgeon. Wild and reckless are they, free in their passions, quick to anger, quick to love, full of pride. Naked they walk the world, open, clean and strong to those who look upon them and would follow their path. Angven brings fire and passion and strength to the hearts of those she touches, goddess of love and desire. Orgeon brings fury and rage and strength to those he touches, god of war and competition and conflict. A flame is her sign, a blade is his. Together they have a son, Ulfius.
Ulfius, son of brother and sister, son of lust and war. A dark and twisted child, he was cast out from hearth and home to make his way in the world alone. In his anger he creates and calls forth the monsters, the undead, and the daimons. He lives to undo the work of the All-father and all of his children. He is the god of chaos and he has no sign.
After Angven and Orgeon, were born Allata and Ormund. Ormund is skilled in the working of metal and wood, Allata in wool and linen and leather, grain and meat and honey. Ormund gives his gifts to the smith, the carpenter, the builder. Alara gives hers to the weaver, the tailor, the cook and the brewer. His sign is the forge, hers is the hearth.
Last were born Asker and Offa. Quiet and watchful are they, learning the hidden ways of the world. Asker has learned secrets of herbs and blood and bone. She is the patron of the healer, and her sign is the yarrow. Offa has learned the secrets of runes and song and poetry. He is the patron of the scholar, the scribe, and the skald, and his sign is the quill.
The children of Laguz looked upon the world created by their parent and saw that it had no meaning without life. So they created wolf and bear, sheep and salmon, honeybee and falcon, pine, oak, ash and birch, and every other plant and beast that goes upon the land or sea. But none lived to show the Aethir how the world could be used by their gifts.
Aea and Otho walked along the beach by the sea, and found logs of ash and pine laying in the sand. They took the logs to their brothers and sisters. From the ash, strong, resilient, and fertile, they carved the first woman, and named her Anbren. From the pine, stately, sheltering, and proud, they carved the first man, Oiron. To them each of the Aethir gave their gifts. And to them and their children they gave the world, to walk and to shape with the gifts given them that they might honor the Aethir by their works.
Bruce Cruscavas
Count of Enubec
2
Roleplay from Bruce Cruscavas
Message sent to everyone in Imperial Embassy
The day dawned clear and crisp. Bruce rose with the sun, performed his ablutions, and made his prayers to the Eight and to the One. Today he would be fighting to redeem his name and his fame. Torturer he had been, and Torturer was how he was known, but that was in a different life, and he had been a different man. Today was the beginning of a new life and a new name. In fact, each new day was a day for redemption, should a man choose to take it. The Nyrna, the guides of the fate of each man, might be swayed by brave conduct and bold actions. Then again, they might not. One could never tell with the Nyrna, but it couldn't hurt to try.
These were the thoughts in Bruce's mind as he approached the arena. In his hand he carried his staff, symbol of his office as priest. It was also useful in driving off stray dogs and beggar children. At his side hung his longsword. In battle he preferred his falchion, but the heavy blade, brutally efficient as it was in combat, wasn't well suited for dueling. The longsword was also just a bit more stylish, and appearances would matter today.
He entered the arena, and strode out to the center of the sandy floor. Niall, proud and haughty as ever, waited there with another man. The stranger spoke first.
"Bruce Cruscavas?"
"That is my name."
"You are here today for a duel with Niall De La Fere. This is a duel to surrender. You are the challenger in this duel. Do you wish to proceed with this duel under these terms?"
"I do."
"Niall has already given his assent to the duel and terms. What weapon do you choose, staff or sword?"
"My staff against his sword? There's courage, but then there's stupidity. Sword, of course."
The referee, as Bruce judged him, took the staff from him, and directed the men to draw their swords and face each other in guard positions. Bruce spoke first.
"De La Fere."
"Torturer."
"Torturer no longer. Simply Bruce Cruscavas. Priest, if you must."
"Fine, then. Priest." The last word was spat with as much venom as "torturer" had been. This one would never become a friend. But, Bruce didn't need more friends. Fewer enemies, perhaps. Maybe this duel would reduce that list by one, but he doubted it.
"I dedicate this fight to Orgeon, god of battle." Niall looked puzzled at this pronouncement, but then the referee called "Begin", and both men moved. Bruce knew of Niall's reputation as a swordsman, and planned to go aggressively and try to take him off balance. Niall, though, charged him like a storm, and Bruce was hard pressed to keep his own balance. Blows were blocked, parried, and countered. After several minutes, though, Bruce knew that he was in trouble. He redoubled his efforts trying to break through Niall's defenses, looking for an opening that didn't come. Both men were sweating and panting, and Bruce knew that he couldn't go to much longer. He saw Niall's for slip in the sand, and lunged to take advantage. To late, he saw that it was a feint that him slightly overextended. Niall's sword flashed, and Bruce's flew through the air to land in the sand three strides away.
Niall's arm drew back for the killing blow, rage on his face. Bruce dropped to his knees, panting. "I yield, Niall. You win. I yield."
3
Roleplay from Bruce Cruscavas
Message sent to everyone in The Way of the Aethir
Bruce sat on the stoop outside the temple, sipping ale from his drinking horn and looking across the village green toward the Trinitist's temple that stood over there. He had watched a number of the villagers walk toward that temple, look at the crowds outside the Aethirism temple, and cross the green to where he was preaching. And then stay to be initiated. It had been a good day ... for him.
He watched as the Trinitist priest in his robes and trappings stepped out to glare at him. Bruce hoisted the horn in mock salute, and then drank deep, grinning. His rival priest glared a bit longer, then scurried back into the temple, slamming the door behind him.
He couldn't blame the peasants for preferring tales of the Aethir over whatever it was the Trinitists preached. The Aethir were like humans, but ... more. They laughed, and cried, and raged, and fought, and lusted, just as men do. But when they laughed, the ground shook and waves slapped the shores. When they cried, rivers flooded. When they raged, mountains were heaved up, and shattered when they fought. When they lusted ... well, those tales were more suited for telling around a campfire than in a temple.
But the tales gave the people dreams, and hopes, and something other than the sheer grey, empty knowledge that they would be born here, live here, work here, and die here, without ever becoming more than what they were. A soldier could strive to become like Orgeon, strong, proud and fierce. A smith could become like Ormund, and his wife become a healer as skilled as Asker.
He knew that the tales he told didn't really happen. Otho never actually tricked giants into returning the sun after they stole it. Allata never made a never-emptied wineskin as a birthing gift for Anbren and Oiron's first child. It didn't really matter, because the stories were true nonetheless. The truth of the tales was the truth behind the tales. Strength, skill, cleverness, wisdom, honor, knowledge, courage, these were things needed in life. You could have them, and still strive for them. It was not even necessary that they attain those goals, only that they strive to. And isn't that all life is, is striving?
Bruce emptied the last few sips from his horn onto the ground, muttering his offering to Allata, and stood. He pulled on his tunic and leggings, belted on his dirk, picked up his staff, and started walking. He knew Germanico would be scowling at the clothes, but night was falling, he had a long walk to the next village, and it was cold in the mountains of Bursa. He needed more fat on his skinny frame if he was going to be naked all of the time.
4
Request from Daedalus Dogsbody Message sent to everyone in Imperial Embassy
Priest Bruce,
One be intrigued by this Way of the Aethir. Pray tell, how many gods be there in this religion and what be thy views on a Great Man rising to the status of Demi-god?
Daedalus Dogsbody
Report from Bruce Cruscavas
Message sent to everyone in Imperial Embassy
Chancellor Daedalus,
The Way follows nine gods, Laguz, Creator of all, and their eight children, Aea and Otho, Angven and Orgeon, Allata and Ormund, Asker and Offa. Angven and Orgeon have a son, Ulfius, but he is creator of monsters and undead, and we do not speak of him save as a warning or a curse. Whilst we have heroes, they are mortals like all men. One may sit and feast with the gods after a heroic death, but they are still just men. We have no demi-gods.
You may be a great man, even a hero, but you are still just a man.
Cattle die, kinsmen die you yourself die; One thing now that never dies the fame of a dead man’s deeds.
This hangs inside the entrance of each of our temples.
Strength and honor,
Bruce Cruscavas
5
Roleplay from Bruce Cruscavas
Message sent to all nobles of Yssrgard
Bruce prepared the sacrifices carefully. Bundles of yarrow, comfrey, garlic, and other healing herbs a few jars of honey for it's disinfectant properties. That should please Asker the healer. A spear, a dagger, a sword, a strong bow and quiver of arrows, for Orgeon the warrior, all added to the pyre. No armor, because Germanico never wore armor - or anything else - when he went into battle.
Lastly, a cask of ale was brought out, because all of the gods appreciated ale, and so did Bruce. He filled his horn, and drank deep. He stripped of his tunic and leggings, and stood naked before the gods. He filled his drinking horn again, and tossed the cask onto the pyre with the rest of the sacrifice.
An acolyte slapped a torch into his outstretched hand and he thrust it into the pyre. As the flames climbed higher and the smoke rose to the heavens, the acolyte asked " Will this really make the gods help Germanico?"
Bruce considered the question, and the will of the gods. He replied "We can't make the gods do anything. They will do whatever they decide. We can encourage them, or make requests, but they will do as they will." He then drained of his drinking horn, belched and said "But it can't hurt."
