The Ages of Alfheim

Vaulnur was not a mighty warrior, or a simple farm hand. He was a poet and a thinker; a Lloss Alfar part of the Straysinger Family. He would sit under clouded nights skies, focusing on one question, "how to stabilise this chaos."

Famine, disease and storms tore apart those that still lived; forests and crops withered and died, and mines caved in where once rich gold veins ran. Seeing his people In such disarray and woe, Vaulnur Straysinger gathered as many as he could to his family home near the ruins of Frey's old Palace. Soon the farmstead turned into a shanty Town of tents as a rumour spread that they would be safe at The Straysingers Estate.

During one such night the answer came to him; a vision of a throne of Oak & Gold; Frey's old seat, and a conduit to the raw power of Alfheim.

Vaulnur began the work of clearing the ruins of Frey's Palace, though he knew not for what purpose, and his people helped him. They revealed the white marble stairs of the plinth where Frey's throne once sat, and dug out what was left of the Throne of Oak and Gold.

It was a beautiful piece of construction; of ancient white oak taken from the centre of the most oldest of Alfheims forests, and of the purest of Gold taken from the deepest veins of Alfheims largest of mountains. Many lives had been lost in the gathering of such precious resources, ages ago when the throne was first built. The throne was now broken, and Vaulnur's people started work to restore it.

The Palace itself was beyond repair and nobody wanted to see it as it had once stood, but maybe it could serve as a Capitol for a new world. As they joined together and worked a new Palace was built made from pure white marble, inlaid with the finest silver.

After several decades of chaos, the people finally had a purpose and the small shanty town grew into a city centred on the rebuild. More and more people joined Vaulnur's efforts over several years; his words an inspiration to a desolate people. It was at the end of the fifth decade that marked the end of the age of desolation; the throne was restored, and the new Palace was complete.

At the urging of his people, on 125th day of the end of fifth decade since Ragnarok, Vaulnur Straysinger took his place on the throne. He of Alfheim birth sat upon the Oak of his land, inlaid with the Gold from the ground, and the wild raw power of the realm flow through him, as his original vision had portrayed. Torrents of feelings and emotions racked his mind, and he was linked to the essence of Alfheim.

This was to become known as the 'Joining;' a night and a day of pain that if not strong enough would consume the body, mind and soul. It is the true test that all future monarchs must pass to calm the realm from the inner chaos that has wracked it since Ragnarok. When Vaulnur sat this was what happened; for the first time in almost 60 years the beasts that held disease returned to slumber or left the surrounding lands; the Seas quelled and rivers swelled to fertilise the fields, and crops and forests regrew; storms returned to their more seasonal cycle, and their usual level of power.

Yet it had its price; the now King of Alfheim could never leave the Realm, or chaos would return. All who went through the Joining knew this within their souls. The city that had sprung up around the rebuilt was named Tallallame, and the Straysinger family became Alfheim's Ruling family as word spread about how the chaos was alleviated. They were the guardians of the land! And thus Family of Straysinger carried the weighty burden for the people of Alfheim, and The Age of Desolation came to an end.

As Frey’s temple was cleared of now false Gods' idols, carvings, pictures and songs, not all liked this. Watching as all of Frey were cast out, torn down, and offered up as Tribute to Provenance, some started speaking out. As wood and parchment were piled high and set ablaze in an offering to Air, some were snatched back. The Stone of statues were reshaped and recycled into the foundations of new temples and shrines.

All over Alfheim shrines were raised in dedication to Water, Air and Earth, but not all believed in this. Frey’s Temple was remade into The Sepulchre of Provenance, the capitol of worship upon Alfheim. The water that had spilled across the floor when Water departed was carefully put into a marble pool in buildings centre. The Soil that fell when Earth departed was placed in the temple grounds becoming the Lush Gardens that now stand. And silver chimes were hung from every archway and window so Airs words could be heard.

Those who did not like the changes, those who spoke out and those who snatched back priceless works did not follow suit with the new belief, and rallied against the new faith. Most of these were human, but there was some Alfar amongst their number, who stated that turning their backs on the Gods would bring further ruin to their people. Some of this number managed to flee to Asgard to serve the Gods there, even fewer left for Vanaheim keeping equality. Those Alfar who left were branded as traitors and no longer hold any respect or titles in Alfhiem, and their families that remained were made examples of, and cast aside.

The ones who did not flee instead hid, and worshipped secretly to Frey, biding their time. The believed he would return to bring the true golden age to the people. This news reached the King, who declared those that worship false idols in Alfheim, idolaters in line with the Tenets. They were given one more chance to repent and declare themselves whole heartily to Provenance. Those who did not do so, would be executed as a message; that only the Provenance now holds sway in Alfheim.

And for the first time since time began, the Alfar were split apart. Not long after this, the age of the Hunt began.

In the Sacred Glen at the Lake of Revelations, where the grandest of Waters temples stood, a small force calling themselves The Chosen of Frey gathered. They were led by a young Human farm-hand called Imrial, who stated they would not leave their homes, nor would they give up worship of Frey as he still truly guided them. He proclaimed that their time of hiding was over, and if their kin would not see the truth that Frey still loves them, that when he returns for them those who remained loyal to him who survive his wrath.

This news reached the King, and he called for an army of faithful to meet the heretics. He called to his council change his eldest son, Crown Prince Volundr, named as himself as was tradition, and his new bride Althea, to whom he gave a simple instruction; offer them the chance to repent and return to Provenance, and slay those who won’t without hesitation. The army of the faithful arrived at the sacred Glenn, and Imrial and his host found themselves outnumbered a hundred to one.

The Crown prince was a warrior of great renown, but it was his wife who stepped forward fist. She was a diplomat, well known and respected by all, of Family Leyndarmál, and strolled forward between the two forces. Her lovely voice was carried through the wind by air to the host standing before her. She pleaded with Imrail’s people to lay down their arms, and join the faithful, where they would be welcomed and forgiven, as nobody truly wanted bloodshed here today. Some threw down their arms and were welcomed with open arms and cheers. The rest stood defiant, disgusted at those who left their ranks. They replied with a single bow shot the arrow landing a hairs width from the Princesses foot. Prince Volundr immediately raised the horn to his lips, as she flew forward to put a shield in front of this bride. He blew a long low tone, and as one the Alfar drew their blades across their palms and offered to water their blood, before charging toward. Soon the ground would be quenched in heretic blood. The Princess took a bow in hand, and strode with her husband towards the fray; diplomat she may be, but not above fighting.

Soon the two lines crashed like a wave upon rock. The battle raged on for hours and many died. Imrial and his forces lasted longer than most would of thought, and even when their backs were at the water’s edge, Imrial led a savage counter assault. As the two lines reformed with a mound of dead in their centre something strange happened. The clouds turned dark as a storm formed; the earth began to shake and tear apart beneath the feet of Imrail’s forces, and some were swallowed in the dark crevasses that appeared. A great wind forced those on the shoreline back into the waters where a Maelstrom waited to devour them. As quick as the storm gathered, it was then gone, leaving utter silence in its wake. The water was now calm, the breeze now soft and the earth no longer fractured. Only the faithful remained, including their dead so they could be returned to their families. Yet Imrial and his host were gone; claimed by earth and water. Not even the bodies could be seen under the calm blue of the lake. Awed, disturbed, but elated it was over, the Princes army went home.

The battle of Waters Edge became legendary, despite being a tragic and dark part of their history. Though none could ignore the sign that they were truly faithful, and the divinity of Provenance.