Ívarr, the Stray
Einherjar of Odin, Hound of the Allfather
"Go, wanderer. There are other worlds than these."
He had so enjoyed his revels in the hallowed halls. The feasting, the fighting, the endless company of warriors whose deeds had earned them a placement among the honoured dead. But when Odin commands his Hounds, they obey.
Ívarr awoke upon a battlefield in the southern reaches of Mithral Hall.
He had fought valiantly here. He had died bravely here. A nameless casualty of the War of the Silver Marches, his blood long since swallowed by the earth. Yet here he lay once more, beneath an unfamiliar sky, with breath in his lungs and the cold memory of death still clinging to his bones.
He had earned his place at the Allfather's table. Many had, borne aloft upon the golden wings of Valkyries to feast and fight in the halls of Valhalla. But Ívarr had been chosen for something more. Named Einherjar, a Hound of Odin, he had been granted a second life and the opportunity to earn new glories beneath the watchful eyes of the gods.
Or perhaps he had simply been given another opportunity to die.
Was he alone in his return? Had other Hounds been sent forth? And for what purpose? All Ívarr remembered was a single icy-blue eye and the echo of an unquestionable command.
Odin had offered no answers, but he had sent a companion.
Geri, one of the Allfather's own wolves, appeared at his side shortly after his awakening. A great spectral beast, wise beyond reckoning and possessed of an irritating talent for silent judgement. He was both companion and mentor, charged with watching over Ívarr and guiding him on whatever path Odin had chosen. Though Ívarr suspected his duties involved as much supervision as guidance.
And so they wandered, taking work where they found it, seeking worthy battles and tales worth telling. Yet the purpose of their journey remained elusive, and Geri was infuriatingly unwilling to elaborate.
Which was how Ívarr came to be sitting in a tavern, eavesdropping on adventurers from the Juggernauts Guild.