1.4.01 - Midsommerblót

Varka sent you to catch a god's beast alive, and at the last moment someone else put an arrow in it.

With Loki's Hand broken and the poorer Shallows looking for someone to follow, Varka pointed you at the one thing that buys a name in Hammerfall: the Midsommerblót, the sacred hunt. Every solstice a spirit called Hrimgaldr settles into some worthy beast in the Lost Woods, and whoever brings it back alive for the sacrifice is sung across the city and the villages beyond. Bring it back dead, and the year sours into famine and the gods' silence. Free drink for a month, Varka added, and everyone forgets the rats.

Into the misty, thorned woods you went. Gunnar called on Loki for the way, pouring wine over the ring and sealing it with a kiss, and the trickster murmured to press on where there seemed to be no path. Riven read the hidden trails like the forest remembered him. You found a dryad sick with rot and chose to help her, promising to cleanse her and her tree, and left her well-disposed toward you. Hanzt bathed in the healing pool of the Sacred Grove and felt the filth fever loosen its grip at last. Then you cornered Hrimgaldr, antlered and iron-furred and ancient, and very nearly calmed him.

And then the orcs came out of the trees and killed him. Arrows in the great beast, his breath going shallow against the ground, the hunt broken by another's hand. Whatever the gods made of that, it was no longer yours to give.

Remember For Next Time

• The hunt failed: you nearly took Hrimgaldr alive, but orc hunters killed him first. A slain spirit-beast is said to curse the year with famine and the gods' disfavour.
• Loki guides Gunnar: the ring answers. Wine and a kiss, and the trickster shows the way.
• Small mercies: the dryad of the Sacred Grove owes you goodwill, and the Grove's waters eased Hanzt's fever.

Where We Are

Standing over a dead god's beast in the Lost Woods, the hunt lost to another's arrows, the sacrifice still to come.