Yakarl the Scourge

Clad in ornate armor of gold, hoarfrost, and black steel, Yakarl strides through the field of battle like an ice giant. He is a living legend, a warrior from the days when Norr raiders sailed across the ocean from the Winterlands and struck terror into the hearts of all they encountered. The runes tattooed upon his body and etched into his ax glow with the glory of his past, yet he now serves a higher power. Yakarl was once a mighty warlord, ruling a prosperous Winterlands port in the final days of the Gray Age. When the Sin of Dragons was committed and the First Great War began, Yakarl cared little for Ramantu Drakesblood’s pleas for the people of Teleria to unite against the predation of Siroth. Instead, he saw the fall of the Empire of Dragons, and the death of Basileus Roanas, as the perfect opportunity to prey upon the isolated Dragonkin colonies and the weakened Elf Kingdom of Aravia. His ships scoured the coastlines of any wealth and slaves they could carry, and easily overwhelmed those who tried to stop them. Yakarl sent home enough riches to forge a kingdom in the Winterlands that could have one day rivaled Aravia itself. But it was not to be. Over his years of pillaging, Yakarl had left trusted jarls in control of his holdings. From their perspective, Yakarl was a wonderful king — his ships brought home great wealth, and he was not around to spend it or hold those responsible for it accountable. The jarls’ greed blossomed, as did their boredom with no enemy to fight. Families waged political wars instead for land, coin, and slaves, and when Yakarl finally returned, he found his realm buried in plots and discontent. Rivals challenged his rule, or attempted to break away to form their own fiefdoms. Yakarl was a great conqueror, but a poor politician, and a year after his return, he had failed to settle the myriad disputes and threats. He had never sought civil war, seeing disunity as a way to shatter his nascent realm, but he realized that to keep his crown, he had to turn his wrath against his own people. Yakarl was furious but, deep down, he knew that his rage was a symptom of his despair. He had thought himself wiser and stronger than the fools who had marched off to die in the First Great War. Desperate for a peaceful solution, Yakarl the Scourge approached his sages. Most were unable to help him, their words ambiguous, but one spoke of a power deep in the heart of the Winterlands that could grant him the might of the gods themselves. With such strength, he could unite his people once more. Yakarl gathered his most trusted huscarls and prepared an expedition inland. It meant leaving his territory unwatched once more, but he saw himself as having little choice. Besides, should this power be real, no challenge he faced upon his return would be insurmountable. The expedition progressed well at first, but months of travel pushed Yakarl and his accompanying huscarls to the limit. One by one warriors perished, killed by rotten ice, falling into hidden crags, eaten by stalking beasts, or frozen. Yakarl saw his company melt away into the blizzards until he was all who remained. He was stronger than them all, and he marched on with pure grit and deep desperation driving him forward. Finally, he reached the shore of a pool of crystal clear water, steaming with heat even in the blistering cold. He thought he had come upon a footprint of a god. Instead, he had come upon one of their servants, who stood by the edge of the basin, as if waiting for him. It was the Arbiter, though Yakarl did not know. Believing her an obstacle to the resource he had marched for so long to find, he challenged her to single combat, and she accepted. In the duel that followed, Yakarl was outclassed, despite all his ferocity and strength. After being disarmed and humiliated a dozen times, Yakarl yielded, asking only that she kill him quickly. Instead, the Arbiter revealed to Yakarl who she was and offered him a choice. She said he had abandoned her and all of Teleria during the First Great War, choosing instead to murder and steal, while heroes died to protect the world. Either Yakarl could die in punishment for his selfishness, or he could repent. By serving the Arbiter for eternity, he could redeem himself. The Arbiter spoke more, of the lands devastated by Siroth’s hordes, of all the death and horror they had inflicted. She called Yakarl a coward for not doing his part, and for attacking the weak, and incompetent for the failure of his kingdom. Thoroughly ashamed, he pledged his ax to her.