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Astrid was born to Eirik the Stern, a large, strong-willed warrior, 2nd to the Clan's Chief, and her mother, Sigrid, the Clan's seer, who spoke on behalf of Odin. She is taller than most of her kinsmen, is brazen and hotheaded, but tries her best to make friends where able despite being bit clueless socially, tending to function better by her lonesome. She's unusually strong, and largely fearless, rarely turning down an opportunity to try something new, a fight, or to prove herself capable. She has a strong libido, especially when in heat, but is a bit clumsy with courtship. She is attracted to both males and females, though she tends to lean more towards men, especially if they can match her size! Her personal Gods of choice are Tyr and Freja. She's fond of fresh fish, venison, and hot mead on snowy nights.
She was born into the Tveirulf Clan (Twin Wolves Clan), with the Clan's Gods of choice being the twin Wolves that accompany Odin; Geri and Freki. The Clan is located in a small valley within what would eventually become Sognefjord, Norway, where it lived primarily off of fishing, hunter-gathering, and primitive, short term farming. The Clan is partially nomadic, traveling alongside migratory paths of the local wildlife, sticking to the edge of the vast river that cuts the fjord in two. Occasionally, during spring, the clan settles on the flat highlands of Stølsheim, where courtship rituals take place.
The Clan is close-knit, and small, numbering barely in the 300s, but more than 3/4 of them are warriors. They pledge allegiance to no Kings, but were, despite racial differences, welcomed on the Raids to the west for their tenacity and unbridled ferocity in combat. The racial differences, and problems that come with it, between human and Tveirulf, can become problematic from time to time, as some human warriors finds the inclusion of the Tveirulfs unacceptable. As mentioned, however, their skills in combat are undeniable, and as such, even those who would condemn their presence on the battlefield, still at least tolerate them.
Astrid was just of age during the late beginnings of the raids on the Anglo-Saxons, joining at the age of 20 when her skills in combat caught the eye of Ragnar Lothbrok during a Holmganger; a trading trip to Denmark gone wrong against a racist berserker, who had spotted Astrid and heckled her. She graciously accepted, and returned home to her Clan who congratulated her. Her father presented her with twin axes, forged for her specifically, as a reminder of where she comes from, and where her true roots are, as she charges across the battlefields of lands far from home. With tears stinging her eyes, she accepted, and hugged him. She left her clan and again traveled for weeks to reach the flat fjords of Denmark, this time along 2 others from her clan; Halfdan and Ada, who had also been offered a spot on the same raiding longboat. The three became close friends during their travel, and became battlebrethren during the next 3 years.
In England, Astrid Eiriksdóttir was given the nickname 'The Wild One' amongst the armies and warbands she joined in the invasion of Northumbria and the capture of York. Amongst the Serkerfritr(Furless Ones) as her clan called humans amongst themselves, Astrid became highly prized for her brutality and utter fearlessness in the face of death. The name was given to her during the capture of York, where Halfdan, Ada, and herself had snuck in by running around the entirety of the city, scaling the walls, and together had cut the defending forces down by half as they attempted to stop the lupine trios rampage through the undefended streets of western York. They slew hundreds between them before they managed to carve their way to the front gates and attacked the wall's defenders from behind. In the panic, the gates were briefly unbraced, and Astrid was able to unlock the main gate, allowing the forces of Danes to breach and rapidly overwhelmed the city with sheer numbers. Ragnar, Commander of the forces, named her 'Den Vilde' that day, after Halfdan and Ada had confirmed her to have been the one to initiate the plan.
Soon after, as she was stationed in York to help keep its defenses intact whilst the city was put under control, a grizzled Furless One named Ofærr had arrived with the warbands and had rapidly set up his forge in York. During the battles, Astrids twin axes had been damaged, and so she required Ofærr's help to repair them. During this time, the two became fast friends. Astrid soon found herself making up excuses to go see Ofærr, but during a quiet evening when much of the city's garrison was out raiding and Astrid had been instructed to remain in the city to support the remaining garrison, Astrid spent much of those evenings sitting outside Ofærr's forge, drinking mead and sharing stories. He wasn't quite like any of the other Furless Ones. Her appearance didn't unsettle him. In fact, he seemed completely at-ease with her despite how off-putting she clearly was to her furless kinsmen. With her head awash with mead, she laid with Ofærr that night.
Since then, the Wild One has spent many nights on the road, invading Saxon townships to raid their churches for the silver they hold within. Her life has been full of what she had hoped, and is confident Freki and Geri are smiling down on her, her ancestors next to them, proud of her achievements. Still, despite the number of shield-walls she's been defended by and the many times she has dove into the fray, she still cries for the blessing of her people, never forgetting where she's from, and never forgetting her mother's tearful smile on that fateful night, illuminated by the Northern Lights.
Astrid's goals are known largely only to her. Is it to die in battle and reach Valhalla? Is it to settle down and start a family in Daneland? Or is it to return to the fjords of her homeland and live with the riches she'd made in England? Only she knows, but in truth, she doesn't really know either. These days, Astrid goes where Geri and Freki lead her, and where Odin whispers in her ear to go. She has no idea where the end of the road will lead, but if you asked her? She'd say that's the best part of it.
Artwork ©
doomthewolf
Astrid ©
She was born into the Tveirulf Clan (Twin Wolves Clan), with the Clan's Gods of choice being the twin Wolves that accompany Odin; Geri and Freki. The Clan is located in a small valley within what would eventually become Sognefjord, Norway, where it lived primarily off of fishing, hunter-gathering, and primitive, short term farming. The Clan is partially nomadic, traveling alongside migratory paths of the local wildlife, sticking to the edge of the vast river that cuts the fjord in two. Occasionally, during spring, the clan settles on the flat highlands of Stølsheim, where courtship rituals take place.
The Clan is close-knit, and small, numbering barely in the 300s, but more than 3/4 of them are warriors. They pledge allegiance to no Kings, but were, despite racial differences, welcomed on the Raids to the west for their tenacity and unbridled ferocity in combat. The racial differences, and problems that come with it, between human and Tveirulf, can become problematic from time to time, as some human warriors finds the inclusion of the Tveirulfs unacceptable. As mentioned, however, their skills in combat are undeniable, and as such, even those who would condemn their presence on the battlefield, still at least tolerate them.
Astrid was just of age during the late beginnings of the raids on the Anglo-Saxons, joining at the age of 20 when her skills in combat caught the eye of Ragnar Lothbrok during a Holmganger; a trading trip to Denmark gone wrong against a racist berserker, who had spotted Astrid and heckled her. She graciously accepted, and returned home to her Clan who congratulated her. Her father presented her with twin axes, forged for her specifically, as a reminder of where she comes from, and where her true roots are, as she charges across the battlefields of lands far from home. With tears stinging her eyes, she accepted, and hugged him. She left her clan and again traveled for weeks to reach the flat fjords of Denmark, this time along 2 others from her clan; Halfdan and Ada, who had also been offered a spot on the same raiding longboat. The three became close friends during their travel, and became battlebrethren during the next 3 years.
In England, Astrid Eiriksdóttir was given the nickname 'The Wild One' amongst the armies and warbands she joined in the invasion of Northumbria and the capture of York. Amongst the Serkerfritr(Furless Ones) as her clan called humans amongst themselves, Astrid became highly prized for her brutality and utter fearlessness in the face of death. The name was given to her during the capture of York, where Halfdan, Ada, and herself had snuck in by running around the entirety of the city, scaling the walls, and together had cut the defending forces down by half as they attempted to stop the lupine trios rampage through the undefended streets of western York. They slew hundreds between them before they managed to carve their way to the front gates and attacked the wall's defenders from behind. In the panic, the gates were briefly unbraced, and Astrid was able to unlock the main gate, allowing the forces of Danes to breach and rapidly overwhelmed the city with sheer numbers. Ragnar, Commander of the forces, named her 'Den Vilde' that day, after Halfdan and Ada had confirmed her to have been the one to initiate the plan.
Soon after, as she was stationed in York to help keep its defenses intact whilst the city was put under control, a grizzled Furless One named Ofærr had arrived with the warbands and had rapidly set up his forge in York. During the battles, Astrids twin axes had been damaged, and so she required Ofærr's help to repair them. During this time, the two became fast friends. Astrid soon found herself making up excuses to go see Ofærr, but during a quiet evening when much of the city's garrison was out raiding and Astrid had been instructed to remain in the city to support the remaining garrison, Astrid spent much of those evenings sitting outside Ofærr's forge, drinking mead and sharing stories. He wasn't quite like any of the other Furless Ones. Her appearance didn't unsettle him. In fact, he seemed completely at-ease with her despite how off-putting she clearly was to her furless kinsmen. With her head awash with mead, she laid with Ofærr that night.
Since then, the Wild One has spent many nights on the road, invading Saxon townships to raid their churches for the silver they hold within. Her life has been full of what she had hoped, and is confident Freki and Geri are smiling down on her, her ancestors next to them, proud of her achievements. Still, despite the number of shield-walls she's been defended by and the many times she has dove into the fray, she still cries for the blessing of her people, never forgetting where she's from, and never forgetting her mother's tearful smile on that fateful night, illuminated by the Northern Lights.
Astrid's goals are known largely only to her. Is it to die in battle and reach Valhalla? Is it to settle down and start a family in Daneland? Or is it to return to the fjords of her homeland and live with the riches she'd made in England? Only she knows, but in truth, she doesn't really know either. These days, Astrid goes where Geri and Freki lead her, and where Odin whispers in her ear to go. She has no idea where the end of the road will lead, but if you asked her? She'd say that's the best part of it.
Artwork ©
doomthewolfAstrid ©
Category All / All
Species Wolf
Size 2177 x 1693px
File Size 3.3 MB
Listed in Folders
I'm born & raised a Dane and was brought up knowing and being taught Norse heritage.
Vikings were not culturally brutal. They were effective battlefield performers, hammering their shields, bellowing and yelling to intimidate the opponent. This was extremely efficient, as is evident from old scrolls from as far back as the Roman Empire; there's a reason why there are absolutely no ancient Roman ruins in Scandinavia. Our reputation as 'savages' and 'demonic strength' and 'unkillable' kept the Romans from passing up into those areas, out of fear alone. Had that fear not been present? Scandinavia would've been conquered just like the English isles were.
They did not take slaves in the traditional sense either; Viking slaves were called þræll(Or Thralls, in English, Træl in modern Danish), which were either indentured servants to satisfy a debt, or were captured in combat, though they were almost always children. Adult Thralls were very rare, and were never true Thralls, as they were willing servants who looked for protection, or to, again, settle a debt. It was not considered insulting as much as a societal necessity where currency was largely non-existant, and trading was far more common. After the invasion of England, and the vast introduction of silver, this did change, but that wasn't till the year 1000 or so.
Additionally, many Thrall owners did in fact come to care for their Thralls; it wasn't unheard of for a Dane huskarl(Essentially the captain of a house, a bodyguard of sorts) to take the Thrall of a Chief or a prestigious warrior to train them in combat. Should the Thrall bring honor to his owner's name as he grows out of childhood and fights in his name? He might go as far as adopt the Thrall, giving him his last name(example: The owner's name is Leif? And the Thrall is male? His last name would be Leifson)
None of this was true brutality. This is a myth brought about by the rare and altogether psychotic Berserkers(Whose name loosely translates from old Norse to 'Wearers of Bear's Skin'), because they did, quite literally, don themselves in a Bear's hide to appear intimidating). These psychedelic mushroom laced tea or mead(depending on taste preferences) drinking lunatics were altogether singularly hellbent on killing, to the point they felt no pain or fear during their rage. It's commonly known in Dane history that many prevalent berserkers succumbed to what could likely have been seizures or heart failure brought on by rampant, continuous overdosing on these mushrooms mixed into teas or alcohols which made them seemingly impervious to damage...cause they felt absolutely nothing; including pain, while as high as they were.
These berserkers however, were few and far in between, and even held in some contempt, even fear and mistrust amongst their peers, as it was notoriously difficult for berserkers in the middle of their mushroom-powered haze to tell friend from foe; they were just as likely to cut down their friends as they were cutting down their enemies. This is why many berserkers either 1) fought alone, or 2) in small groups together in raid parties of 2-6 people, which were usually suicide objectives brought on by themselves to gain the favor of Odin due to some kind of dishonor brought upon themselves in life, and to atone for this and go to Valhalla, they'd band together, cover themselves in war paint, drink vast quantities of alcohol and psychedelic mushrooms, and go into battle wholly expecting, and hoping not to survive, so they could regain their honor and secure their place in Valhalla. An honorable death with blade in hand was the cornerstone of much of Norse belief, as it was an unbreakable requirement to reach the afterlife and to see their ancestors, and to be told by Odin that they were worthy of his halls.
Those few people, however, do not constitute 'brutality'. As a whole? Norse society was quiet, joyous, with constant, long-lasting festivals, parties and holidays that revolved around companionship, fellowship, family, and brotherhood. Not even sexism was common in Norse society; women could just as easily become warriors as males. It was even the spirits of honored female warriors; Valkyries, who were said to carry honorable, slain men or women to Valhalla's gates on their golden wings. Female warriors were extremely highly respected in Viking society, and it was common that men would show them deep respect in case that same woman's spirit would one day be the one to carry them to Valhalla. ONLY women could become Valkyries.
Too long to read? Read this then: No, viking society was not brutal. Wanna know why? Read the rest.
Vikings were not culturally brutal. They were effective battlefield performers, hammering their shields, bellowing and yelling to intimidate the opponent. This was extremely efficient, as is evident from old scrolls from as far back as the Roman Empire; there's a reason why there are absolutely no ancient Roman ruins in Scandinavia. Our reputation as 'savages' and 'demonic strength' and 'unkillable' kept the Romans from passing up into those areas, out of fear alone. Had that fear not been present? Scandinavia would've been conquered just like the English isles were.
They did not take slaves in the traditional sense either; Viking slaves were called þræll(Or Thralls, in English, Træl in modern Danish), which were either indentured servants to satisfy a debt, or were captured in combat, though they were almost always children. Adult Thralls were very rare, and were never true Thralls, as they were willing servants who looked for protection, or to, again, settle a debt. It was not considered insulting as much as a societal necessity where currency was largely non-existant, and trading was far more common. After the invasion of England, and the vast introduction of silver, this did change, but that wasn't till the year 1000 or so.
Additionally, many Thrall owners did in fact come to care for their Thralls; it wasn't unheard of for a Dane huskarl(Essentially the captain of a house, a bodyguard of sorts) to take the Thrall of a Chief or a prestigious warrior to train them in combat. Should the Thrall bring honor to his owner's name as he grows out of childhood and fights in his name? He might go as far as adopt the Thrall, giving him his last name(example: The owner's name is Leif? And the Thrall is male? His last name would be Leifson)
None of this was true brutality. This is a myth brought about by the rare and altogether psychotic Berserkers(Whose name loosely translates from old Norse to 'Wearers of Bear's Skin'), because they did, quite literally, don themselves in a Bear's hide to appear intimidating). These psychedelic mushroom laced tea or mead(depending on taste preferences) drinking lunatics were altogether singularly hellbent on killing, to the point they felt no pain or fear during their rage. It's commonly known in Dane history that many prevalent berserkers succumbed to what could likely have been seizures or heart failure brought on by rampant, continuous overdosing on these mushrooms mixed into teas or alcohols which made them seemingly impervious to damage...cause they felt absolutely nothing; including pain, while as high as they were.
These berserkers however, were few and far in between, and even held in some contempt, even fear and mistrust amongst their peers, as it was notoriously difficult for berserkers in the middle of their mushroom-powered haze to tell friend from foe; they were just as likely to cut down their friends as they were cutting down their enemies. This is why many berserkers either 1) fought alone, or 2) in small groups together in raid parties of 2-6 people, which were usually suicide objectives brought on by themselves to gain the favor of Odin due to some kind of dishonor brought upon themselves in life, and to atone for this and go to Valhalla, they'd band together, cover themselves in war paint, drink vast quantities of alcohol and psychedelic mushrooms, and go into battle wholly expecting, and hoping not to survive, so they could regain their honor and secure their place in Valhalla. An honorable death with blade in hand was the cornerstone of much of Norse belief, as it was an unbreakable requirement to reach the afterlife and to see their ancestors, and to be told by Odin that they were worthy of his halls.
Those few people, however, do not constitute 'brutality'. As a whole? Norse society was quiet, joyous, with constant, long-lasting festivals, parties and holidays that revolved around companionship, fellowship, family, and brotherhood. Not even sexism was common in Norse society; women could just as easily become warriors as males. It was even the spirits of honored female warriors; Valkyries, who were said to carry honorable, slain men or women to Valhalla's gates on their golden wings. Female warriors were extremely highly respected in Viking society, and it was common that men would show them deep respect in case that same woman's spirit would one day be the one to carry them to Valhalla. ONLY women could become Valkyries.
Too long to read? Read this then: No, viking society was not brutal. Wanna know why? Read the rest.
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