I know that for whatever reason, the gods have blessed a few individuals with Immortality. Some of them are obvious. Our Lord Ragnar, for example, is clearly divinely directed in his Leadership. It appears that others exist, such as myself, to keep a record of all that occurs in their divine realm.
King Ragnar approached me today, inquiring about the construction of a great building storing all the knowledge of the known world. I asked him why he was so interested in books all of a sudden, and he said something rather curious in response.
"Would you rather fight the wench with a stick or an axe?"
I, of course, iterated that I was in no mood to engage in combat with anyone, but his point was clear; the smarter you fight, the better you fight, and he wanted a place where the brightest could "make him better axes", as he put it. I did not question his orders and began making arrangements for the building to be built in Uppsala.
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Two messengers approached our King today, sent by the Goddess of Nature. A rather ill-tempered swordswoman and a bumbling old man.
They came to emphasize the importance of Ragnar's adherance to their matron's quest. Ragnar made something of a show of agreeing with them before immediately sending the woman, by the name of Eldaireth, off to the front lines of battle. Meanwhile, the old man, a very knowledgable fellow, began a process of enlightening our thinking men with Philosophical topics. Although Ragnar was not interested, I listened, and found it all quite fascinating. I, in fact, penned a book on the subject and plan on putting it into the Library once it has been completed.
Meanwhile, our troops press deeper into Russia, beginning a seige on the city of Novgorod. It takes us a mere three days before the city is ours, and we construct a monument to our Lord Ragnar to impress the populus.
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The citizens of Rostov have learned of these ideals, the ones taught by the old man of Elona, and have started a Religion in her name. The city has taken the moniker of New Elona, and the religion is spreading.
The Coastal cities are prospering. We have begun the construction of a Forge in Eldarion to assist in the making of the Statue he asks of us. Meanwhile, as barbarians begin raiding our shores, the Happy Wanderer makes short work of them
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A few years have passed since I last wrote. There has been much upheaval in the Kingdom with the advent of the new war. Our King Ragnar had made peace with Catherine after sacking Novgorod, but he seemed restless. The portugeuse had been charging tariffs for taxes passing through their land on the road we had built between Uppsala and Nidaros.
I remember a conversation...
"My Lord, you must concentrate on the Goddess' Quest!" an Elonan Priest urged, pestering our Lord. "These petty money issues are secular pleasures that we do not need!"
"SILENCE!" he cried, as a few others began clamoring around him. When the King called for silence, only the unwise did not oblige. "I am Ragnar. I am not a coward. When a man threatens my people's livelihood, I kill that man. I have sworn to protect their interests. When I build a road, I may charge people to use that road. If you built a road, what would you do if I told you that you must pay me to use it?"
"It's two completely different issues, si- Aaaargghhh!"
The King had snatched a poker from the fire, and whipped it around in one smooth motion, impacting the priest on the knee, which promptly shattered. Falling into a protective ball, the priest screamed and kept screaming, but the King looked over the rest of his advisors.
"We go to war. I am not a tool of the Divine. And their servants are not immortal. When we are in times of peace, I am more than happy to complete their requests as long as it benefits the people of the land. Portugal threatens my people, and so we will break its knees."
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Although slow-going, victory against the Portugeuse was steady. It was not long before Ragnar looked over a clamoring crowd of a different crowd. Joao had left Lisbon before his army had cleared the walls, but the Governor had shared a much more gruesome fate. Ragnar held his head high above the balcony of the palace, and roared.
"We have defeated the Tyrant that is Portugal. As I have promise, tomorrow we begin our march to Paradise!"
And thirty thousand vikings roared beneath him.
Far, far away, as the Library neared completion, a boy was born, and it was said that a blizzard refused to strike Uppsala so that the boy could sleep soundly. A prophet, they called him, a messenger from Eldarion.
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I spoke to my King as he was settling down for another rest, after years of war and bloodshed.
"What will you do when you reach the Garden?"
He paused for a very long time, and settled into his bed.
"I will have her make me an axe."
World Recap:
Also, while on that topic... did you know that you can WB in palaces in Barbarian cities? I didn't. I wonder what will happen?? It sounds epic 
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