Bors Beorning Warrior

"It doesn't make it right, Bors."

Bors looked at his brother Ulric. Not this again.

"He had it coming. The old fool deserved it. He was no longer a warrior, just an old man. He should be thankful his death was swift."

"He nearly defeated you. If I hadn't hit his neck... "

Bors glared at Ulric. Ulric just kept on walking, slowly leaving his home and friends.

"You know I'm right, Ulric. Our people are too soft. We escaped the worst of the Great Plague, and for what? So we could continue our happy, soft lives? Olaf's family were the worst of it. Trade, commerce, wealth. Let them send a scout after us, I'm not afraid of any bloody trader. I'll return home some day, Ulric, you and me, and they'll fear us, they'll respect us, and the Beornings will become a people the Darkness will fear beyond all others."

"Why do you hate them so much? I know we had it harder, with our family being new arrivals and all, but they helped us, gave us food and shelter, gave us a new life."

"Curse them. Curse them all. I'll show them, all of them."

They walked on. It grew dark, and they set camp.

"You know we'll pay for this... no, Bors, not by our laws, by fate. Don't argue on this, Bors. You know I see these things as you cann't. That's why I have the gift of Healing. We'll pay."

Bors looked at the great sword he'd taken from Olaf. The faint, very faint, etching of two bears fighting glinted on the blade. He hadn't even noticed that before. Such an old sword. Worth fighting for. His brother was a fool.

"So return to them then, and face your punishment. You know what I want, and I'll have it, if I have to kill half the Orcs - or Beornings! - in the world. Our people will be strong, and I'll be a great warrior. If that's no good for you, leave. See if I care."

Ulric stood, and walked away.

See Lars and Ulric

Bors has lost his right hand, read about it in Session 14.

Bors Page 1 Bors Page 2

Played by Dave