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The hall was burning. Golden flames reached out to the blackened by smoke sky. The crackling of burning in the inferno timber was accompanied by the creeks of collapsing wooden columns and eaves. The pines about seemed black from the smog created, and the sun was hidden by grey clouds, denying the world from light.

The light forest mist was reflected in Ulfrik’s dying eyes. He was leaning powerlessly on the runestone, smeared with his own blood, before the entrance of his now burning longhouse. He was struggling to reach out for his sword, fallen a meter away from him during the fight, yet he could not reach it. His blood was freezing from the thought – if he died without gripping to his weapon, he would never be accepted into Valhalla, even though he would die of his wounds from a battle. Two arrows were sticking out from his chest and belly, and a terrible wound scarred his left cheek and went down into a deep cut in his left shoulder.

A last shrill scream came from the burning longhouse. His two daughters, Halla and Asgerd, and his wife Thorfinna were inside when Osvald and his band came and set the hall’s roof on fire. Ulfrik ran out to fight the attackers alone – his son Valgard was, and still is, away into the woods with a few of his friends, hunting. When he ran out, he avoided a falling blade aimed for his neck and started an uneven battle with seven. He managed to wound two fatally before he was struck down and shot at with arrows for the amusement of Osvald.

“Remember this dog – I get what I want.” Osvald said to Ulfrik before he and his band rode off. This was his revenge. A year ago they both were warriors on board Snorri Svensson’s longship, raiding in the west, and after attacking a town, Ulfrik had noticed that Osvald had hidden a lot of his plunder from the rest so it was not shared equally amongst the whole crew. When he told this to Snorri, Osvald was chained to the mast for the rest of the journey and thrown off board when they got back, publically humiliating him. He had lost his honour, but had gained a will for brutal vengeance.

Ulfrik suddenly felt two warm hands around him.

“Father!” his son Valgard, a young and strong man, was now speaking like a crying child at the sight of his father on his death bed. He had his forehead pressing to his father’s wounded shoulder from grief and his long auburn hair fell over the wounds.

Ulfrik pushed his son away and pointed at his fallen sword, managing to utter “give”, but then instantly starting to choke blood. Valgard immediately grabbed his father’s sword and placed it quickly in the dying man’s grasp.

“Bloodfeud...Osvald…” Ulfrik spoke over the blood starting to gush out of his mouth. He then started to struggle, tightened his grasp on his sword’s hilt and died a warrior’s death before his son. His eyes were still open, as if awaiting Valgard's oath.

The sunset was dark and cold. The only source of light and warmth was the ceremonial burial of Ulfrik’s body, burning on the ashes and ruins of his longhouse. A wolf howled somewhere in the dusk. In the night’s cold, a vow for revenge was made.

[[ Well,...actually it is not an opening, I just kind of wrote it...but you're right it would be daft if it has no continuation. Just have to think of something, lately I have no RP mood at all...]]