Maidens of three weave their strings
A tapestry of old, new, and yet to be
With delicate fingers they pull tight the threads
And create a cambric dress to be worn by the chosen

Past, present, future is gifted
To a child born upon the night of solstice
A woman-child created by force of will
A new mother to guide the fading stars to rest

But taken by the Norns in fear

Raising the child beneath their feet
Aiming to take her visions for their own
They rejoice and think themselves goddesses
But the heavens grow dull and destiny becomes blind

The tale of a shieldmaiden turned thrall and slave
Of unspeakable beauty and far-seeing power
Soon spread through all the lands of the north and west
And soon came to the halls of Bloodaxe

An aged king of old with honor to gain and give
He sent his legions of warriors and ships
Intent on claiming the goddess-born for his new bride
To bear him a son to fill his empty house

But the Norn’s weaving never ceases

A violent tempest is released upon the world
Ocean’s breath turns to frost, and the ships are ensnared
Bloodaxe’s kingdom falls into famine and disease
Yggdrasil’s branches turn yellow and black

But one hope remained: a hero among men

The man-child Lohric took up his dying father’s sword,
Prying the black hilt from the icy clutches of the sea
Angrim was the name of the foul blade-bared
Cursed by dwarves to cause death and bloodlust

Lohric’s veins breathed rage aflame
His seething aimed at the Norns of destiny
And so he stood atop the dragon’s head
Spying the frozen wasteland that stretched for eternity

Vowing honor and vengeance for his loss
He set out across the tundra, alone
The Norn’s blinded by their pride and fear
Failed to see the coming of man to their sanctuary

Months of traveling through ice and snow
An interminable ocean to cross by foot
Sustained by will and the sword alone
Lohric fell into hatred and blackness

No longer a boy, but a man; a berserker-birthed

After a lifetime of searching the wastes
Lohric found that great white spire of legend
And with his fell blade he stormed their ramparts
Cleaving all those who would call themselves Norn

Until he came to the highest room
The prison of the shieldmaiden-fair
Chained to the wall, unable to move
She pleaded with Lohric to lay down his steel

But the darkness rooted within would not ebb

Taking her life in a fit of rage
Unable to contain the hatred in his fists
Her blood stained deep her once-perfect cambric dress
And Lohric fell to his knees in shame

It was then that the curse on the blade was broken
Ultimate evil having completed it’s task
For now Ragnarok ceases to come; the cycle forever broken
And man will now live and die for all time

The stars had never burned brighter, as the gods were no more