I am Olaf, warrior chief of
Haithabu.
From beyond the grave, this is the story of my last day in the
world of the living.
We were forced to leave
Önguls Island in boats at first light after the death of Gorm, our
great leader. We headed away from the Danelaw as it had become too
unsafe for us to stay: we would have to find an offshore haven.
After ten hours of rowing I cast my raven into the air, and instead
of flying back into the boat he rose up and headed away towards the
evening sun. We redoubled our efforts on the oars, following the
raven’s line, and within two hours made landfall on the island of
Mön.
After drawing the trusty boat
up onto a rocky beach and leaving a guard, we set out over land to
find cover and shelter for the night. We were all exhausted, but
nevertheless moved stealthily inland.
Only a few hundred paces from
the boat, a group of Celtic warriors suddenly ran from hiding
places in thorn bushes and overwhelmed my group. As leader, I was
the first to fall. Although the warriors from our following boat
soon beat back the attack, for me it was too late.
In the attack, my magical
amulet Mjollnir was lost as it flew away into the
bushes.
During the next week, camp
was made near the battle site and my body was prepared for burial
within our boat, with all my prized weapons and possessions. All
except my amulet, which I can now see but am powerless to recover.
I dream that one day it will be found and sent back to my home land
of Haithabu, where its power may be restored and passed on to me
here.
Since the day it was lost, no respectable and trustworthy seeker
has followed my trail to the amulet. I am now forced to appeal
using unfamiliar means.
The descendant of my faithful
raven patrols the seven hundred and twenty one paces from landing
place to amulet, in the hope of guiding brave searchers. He is to
be recognised by his red beak and legs. Wizards will supply the
knowledgeable with the means of following the raven’s flight over
land, using the magical angle of one hundred and twenty one. The
landing place has been marked by runic stones.
Whoever finds the amulet may
take it and pass it on to trusted friends, who will swear to return
it to its original home. Brave searchers who follow later should
not be disappointed if the amulet is gone, so the finder must leave
a trinket of value at the site so the spot is always marked. All
should mark their success there, and note their achievement in view
of the world.
Be warned, however. Although
the powers of the amulet are now weak, it will still protect itself
from those of corrupt or criminal ways – men and women of such
persuasion must not seek the amulet!
