Somewhere North...

It had been sixty years, give or take, since the barbarians cut the last of the roads to the empire.  The sea remained open, the unwashed hordes stayed fearful even of ocean fishing due to remonstrances of their blood marked priests and bleached wood effigies. The sea should have been a lifeline, and for a time it was, but before long, as the problems spread south, all that came were fat emissaries demanding obedience and gold, often from competing claimants to the Onyx Scepter and Torc.  So Norengaarm survived, limping from  border raids from the East each summer and the newest Resplendent Torc's Voice every winter coming to the Westharbor.  But Norengaarm did survive.

In the 804th year since the Paohlain first broke the Altar and replaced it with the Podium, Teos DornAthan sent his sigil ring, the ring that had in this form or another served as symbol of the First Marker of of the North.  He promised to send back emissaries' heads, and was forced to.  Now Regent Captain of the North, he claimed he would make his own king, and find a way for Noremgaarm to do more than survive.

*  *  *

Well, you can imagine my surprise when I discovered I'd last updated this in October 2015.  Well, mark it up to kids, commutes, and that thing called life.  That said, let me see what we can do to inject a little life into this.

It's been a while since I last had a game, but the mind keeps wandering.  So I look at my favorite of my DBA forces, my Patrician Romans and see if I can get a game in with them, if only with myself in a world of my own creation.  So let's see if I can create my own little polygot Dark Age Hyboria.