This tablet, crudely fashioned from a length of oaken wood, looks to be the oldest of them all - battered by the elements. Rot is already gnawing at its edges
THESE WORDS WERE CARVED BY TORGRUN, SON OF SVANNER
When your tongue turns with words
and your head fills with wonder
yet no answers follow
you may learn from those
that came before you.
This tale was not made in the land
where your life began.
It was made in many places
high and low
cold and warm
wet and dry.
Though these words were carved
as I look far over barren hills
of a lonely land
I remember when
the Wolf-hearted and I
crossed first the long path ahead
the clouds whipped their rain
over us.
We had come to tame the land
to find wealth in troll-hoards
to win glory in the shield-fray
and to leave our mark on this place
so that the names of our kin
would be remembered
long after our bones are dust.
We had come
from Wilderland.
A good telling must start
at its beginning
so now I will tell you
of that Wild land.
