TeenyTK » Lair » Jarl

Jarl

(#69901155)

"Welcome, traveller..."

Jylland

Infatuated Slarg

Energy: 48 50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

16.87 m

Wingspan

16.28 m

Weight

7404.66 kg

Genetics

Sunshine
Skink

Sunshine
Blend

Ice
Underbelly

Hatchday

Jun 09, 2021
(3 years)

Breed

Adult
Obelisk

Eye Type

Ice
Unusual

Level 25 Obelisk

Max Level

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Offspring

none

Biography

• Welcome, stranger! •

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At peace, traveller; you find yourself in the lands of clan Valhall. Feel free to share our fire, enjoy our glögg, and make merry with our clansfolk. You are welcome here.

Governed by the Allfather and his Council, Valhall is an independent kingdom tucked away in the southernmost parts of the Icefields. They are primarily a warrior clan, sworn mainly to the Old Gods, and mainly use their considerable number of battle-tested warriors to maintain the peace of the region.

Outsiders are mostly welcomed without issue, be they traders or tourists or fools in need of a new home. Their scouts frequently bring back dragons in need of aid, constantly searching for those caught off guard by the temperamental weather, roving bandits, or other unfortunate situations foreigners may not know to prepare for. It's mostly tourists getting lost in the mountains.

And so, for the sake of everyone's sanity; don't be the tourist getting lost in the mountains. Thank you.

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THINGS OF INTEREST

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Clan Overview

Place

Territory

Place

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code by 84463

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____________• Welcome, stranger! •
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"I am Jarl." The Obelisk's voice is a low rumble as he introduces himself, a smile present on his face. "And I serve as the guide for all newcomers to this clan. Before you are released into the bustle of our humble home, there are certain things all dragons ought to know about Valhall and her many residents."

Taking a step aside, the Obelisk motions towards an information board beside the massive gates leading into the Inner Lair. The lacquered wood shines in the waning light. Flyers and enchanted pamphlets are tacked onto it, some of the papers shimmering oddly, and there's a gentle hum coming from the board itself. One can only wonder why.

"Should you ever get lost or wonder what you might wish to do here, the informational boards will have all the information you could ever need. One is situated here, one by the gates of Utgardar, and one by the entrance to the mountain. The exchange rate of the local currency is updated hourly, the weather reports are constantly updated as the weather shifts, and essential information is easy to find here..." he pauses, tapping a small symbol near the top. "And should you require urgent assistance, tap our clan symbol here thrice. It'll send for someone to aid you."

"If you don't mind," a Skydancer cuts in with the slightest of smiles, "I'd be happy to take these ones for a tour. It's a slow day."

And Jarl merely shrugs, absently motioning you towards the Skydancer. Sharp eyes peer out from behind tinted shades. "I am Brynhild," she introduces herself. The chill in the air does not seem to bother her in the slightest, nor the glowing flowers draped over her wings. "If you'd come with me, I'll show you around, lest we lose you lot like we did the last batch. Dreadful business, that."

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"A significant part of our lair rests within the mountain, Harðhugaðrfjell, and it is not advised that travellers such as yourself venture into there. The Sanctum can be tricky to navigate, and its many paths are temperamental and chilly, which makes it a dangerous place to go if you're not familiar with it," Brynhild offers, motioning towards the entrance to their caves—a gaping maw of darkness.

"This is where you'll most likely find our Council... working on something frightfully boring, I imagine. Should you catch sight of one of them, of course, do say hello. I'm sure they'd appreciate the excuse for a break."

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"Most of us live inside the Wall, in the Inner Lair," Brynhild explains as she motions vaguely towards the massive hunk of ice running from the mountain to the cliffs overlooking the ocean. "And this is where all the fun happens. You can find the Spire here, though I wouldn't advice going there anymore than into the bowels of the Sanctum, and the Hall of Átrunaðr... among other things."

She pauses, tilting her head slightly, before continuing. "There's also the Grim Sanctuary, of course. Our warriors won't welcome you in, nor send you away, but there is a bottomless pit by their fortress and they have tossed dragons in it. Just... you know. Be careful."

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"Yes, yes, it does look like the Whispering Spire will fall into the sea. It wasn't always like that, mind you, but it is what it is," Brynhild muses and motions towards a spindly, crooked tower perched precariously on the edge of the cliffs. "It won't, of course. The Spire is where our mages reside, and our Ambassadors, and it's..."

Trailing off, she makes a vaguely 'so-so' sound, before continuing. "Better stay away from that, too. It's a fickle thing and we've lost a fair few dragons in there, over the years. Things move. Hallways shift. There's ten floors one day and twenty the next, you see? Getting to the right place is a pain, getting back out is even worse."

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"Our esteemed warriors, the Sæmi-ligr, reside in the fortress beside the entrance to the Sanctum. Though they, too, reside within the Inner Lair, they are as much their own section of our home as the Spire. You'll see them out and about, particularly our Peacekeepers," Brynhild explains, pointing towards a dragon donning armour and a particular sigil embroidered on the banner draped over their form.

In the distance, the looming walls of a fortress of stone, wood, and ice reveals itself from the misty shadows. "I know, the skulls aren't welcoming, but the Grim Sanctuary isn't that frightening. Or, well, maybe..." she pauses, grimacing. "Actually, better stay away from that, too."

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"Oh, goodness, I make it sound like everything here will kill you, don't I?" Brynhild laughs, ushering you off once more. "But ah, Cinder Post is one place you ought not to avoid! This is surely the friendliest place in these parts. The Post is where our merchants sell their wares, and where you'll find the Snow Spiral Inn, and all sorts of fun titbits."

And there is colour everywhere, dragons bustling about, and by the time you're in the midst of it the white noise of the crowds is a little much. "There's foreign merchants, the local merchants, merchants no one knows where came from—you'll find whatever you're looking for here! Just avoid Litlauss. Yes, he's got nice wares, but he will try to trick you into selling your soul."

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Exalting Jarl to the service of the Icewarden will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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