Izzoradelle, the Drowned Shieldmaiden Part I: Death & the Ancient Ship

This is a series that I wrote over a year ago while playing on a Valheim community server. The stories have been edited to remove some player tags and player clans to provide privacy to those individuals.

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The clearest memory I can recall of my life as a Viking is the moment when my clan's longship was turned upside down in the thunderous waves of the northern sea.

Tis a blessing, I learned, to have still been cradled in the claws of a Valkyrie despite not perishing on a battlefield. Yet I cannot help but see it as a curse, for where I have ended up, I have never felt more alone.

I was carried through the sky to a land known as Valheim where fields of green hid the glowing eyes of monstrous creatures long since morphed into bedtime stories. Trees like oak and birch were plentiful, and the gentle sounds of deer, boar, and birds were a balm to dead ears.

Unceremoniously, I was dumped before six massive stone monoliths whose carvings depicted fearsome giants I had never before seen. A kindly black raven named Mugin greeted me by stating I was tasked with slaying these beasts known as the Forsaken by Odin's command.

My first target was to be Eikthyr; some sort of giant deer by the look of the carving upon his stone. The inscription upon it read: His antlers are branches of iron, they crack the rocks and bring down mountains. His hooves are the sound of thunder. His voice a howling gale. Shivers ran down my spine, but as I turned to ask more from the raven Mugin, he promptly flew off without much more explanation.

I was alone.

I began following my instincts, picking up whatever wood, stone, and gatherable food I could find. I fastened together makeshift tools, my eyes constantly sweeping the tree line around the monoliths. It looked peaceful, but my gut churned with unease at every flickering shadow.

Pausing my work as the sun peaked in the sky, I sat beside a stream where bizarre green lizards known as Necks played in the water. Upon the surface of the gently lapping waves, I saw my face for the first time since I arrived.

My possessions were gone; no jewelry hung from my ears or neck, and my pale face was naked, void of any paint or markings. My eyes had been replaced with the glowing blue of a stranger's. My body felt different too; weakened and drained of the life force I knew I once had. Even my hair had been leached. Now it was a blinding white.

What was I to do? Why had Odin chosen me? What were these Forsaken doing here?

Was this truly to be my life after death?

I was bewildered and lost beyond measure for some time. Days passed in a blur, sleepless nights piling up like mushrooms beneath a rotting log. I remained in a sorry state until - one day - a shieldmaiden approached me through the mist. She introduced herself as Letti and showed me that, despite the circumstances, I was not alone.

"You are in the tenth world, warrior," she said. "Odin's personal prison."

"A prison? For us?"

She smiled, her features surprisingly gentle. "Some would have you believe that, but no. The tenth world was created for the Forsaken, the monsters we have been selected to kill in Odin's name. They are among his oldest enemies and threaten the peace here in Valheim."

"Oh."

"You must be a brave warrior indeed, to be chosen by the Gods," Letti said, taking my hand. "Thankfully, you and I are far from the only ones to have been brought here."

Others emerged from the trees, adorned in various pieces of armor and carrying impressive weapons. All their eyes glowed the same color blue as mine.

"You will never be alone again, sister." Letti gestured to her comrades. "This is the clan of Valkris, one of several who has been formed to welcome new Vikings such as yourself to our settlements."

No longer alone...but surrounded by a strength I know I don't have.

Members of the clan of Valkris walked me through the trees and onto a hidden path, taking me to the quaint settlement of Nyundelir, a walled town by a wide river. I was given food, shelter, a bed, and armor made out of the pelt of a strange wolfish creature. I was grateful beyond measure, but there was an uneasiness still hounding my soul. I did not belong here. Not like these warriors of old.

I slept only a single night in the community tavern before I wandered alone outside of Nyundelir's gates. I was determined not to be a burden, to leave a mark of my own upon the vast wilds sprawling before me.

I traveled until I found a sprawling open field interwoven with streams and bordered by a mountain, a swamp, and a slip of land that the residents of Nyundelir had called a plain. Apparently, it is among the most dangerous of lands, but the crimson flowers there are the most beautiful.

Within this area, I stumbled across the grave of an ancient ship. My memories of sinking in the frozen waters alongside my comrades haunted me at its presence, and I knew settling in this location would be my way to honor them.

Construction was slow. I rarely slept, afraid of being hounded by nightmares of that stormy night upon the icy sea. I raised the bones of the ancient ship, patched together a roof, and called it good enough. What I needed now was something that no amount of sheltered safety could provide.

...

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