The second Emperor of Vdalion speaks out, fervor of his youth once more in his visage and words. A resurging faith and conviction echoing in his speech within the capital of Vdalion, Grimhjall. The recollection of what was said spreads like wild-fire across Meranthe, the notion of a true legacy on the precipice of reclamation igniting a burning fire in those it resonates with.
 
The implications are unprecedented.
 

Quote:

"For too long, we have lost our glory in pursuit of a noble debt. But the ends do not justify the means. In honor of Signe. In honor of Grimnir. In honor of Ymir's sacrifice, I cannot wallow in my loss and pain as an excuse to turn cheek towards what is anathema. My mind is clear, free of weight and starkly am I exposed to the sobering loss I have let numb my heart. We inheritors of the Great-Father's ichor cannot obtain our rightful purity when occultism and necromancy dwell in our body and soul.

 

No Emperor's Spine ever worked towards. No means to truly regulate as was foolishly spouted.

To ever consider, to ever trust such a fel thing in any facet, a failure of mine to be never forgotten.

 

I have made peace with the truth of my mistakes. I am no god, never will I be infallible. Yet I have the means and power to correct my lapse. So hear me, sons and dotirs.

I denounce witchcraft. I denounce necromancy. Come before me if you must and lay your blades to me, or bear your shields with for me. We have fallen short of true greatness with the propagation of a faux truth. But what is true is not lost. So hear me, Meranthe.

 

This is our truth;

 

The one who carried Ymir's True Gift is known as the Great, Grimnir in our legends. The one who began the golden age shall always be remembered and exalted in legends to come. His birth came from an ichor imbued with the divine essence of our beloved savior, one which had never been before seen. With time it was forgotten and perhaps, it may had been forever lost - alongside the Empire by his hands forged.

 

But no more. Hope still remains for the greatness of yore to be reached. For the heralding of Ymir to be exalted once more across the lands, we must purify ourselves, body and soul, before the sight of our Great-Father. Upon a solstice, we must bathe again in the ichor of the gods that were born of his spirit, and it would not please our beloved martyr-god to take such by force. Only then, might we descendants of the Great-Father regain his gift in all its splendor."

It was not long before word spread through Vdalion of Old Surtyr's declaration, and the brisk winds of the north were quick to carry word of response from the Temple of Ymir.

Quote:

"It is a bold man that believes he can still influence the state of Vdalion after his imposed retirement, and doubly so one who's son so clearly sees through his intent. If Surtyr Folhammar wishes to make his grand declaration, it will be before the Moot to defend his case to the people of the north, not by divine mandate for a crown he no longer bares.

Giants have never been moralists, slaves to such fetid dogma, and I will not allow the doddering of old fools to bring Vdalion to the brink again. By the hand of the moot, the north's fate will be determined, and by Jokul's grace, may the new order of the Empire of Ymir be determined."

With the end of the Moot comes a solemn reality, Surtyr, by banishment, has left Vdalion, and with him, all of the Folhamar clan has also departed, save his son, Jokul, who holds a different burden as Emperor. It is unknown as of now where he and his kin have gone. None could deny that he valued the core of this new message above anything such as power or glory.

A monumental shift in history for the land of the mountain.

Quote:"The age of the false emperor has passed. Surtyr Folhammar showed his true colors at the moot, the depths of his holy madness. Yet, he swore an oath to forswear the Folhammar and the clan to his son before accepting exile, an oath that he has broken this day before the eyes of giants and men."

"For breaking an oath sworn before the moot by reclaiming his hammer not through battle, but through wayfinding trickery in the means of yellow bellied cowards, Surtyr Folhammar's rights as a giant are now forfeit. He is stripped, denounced, and removed from Vdalion's history, his name struck from the tomes of the Zealots. From this point forth, the first Emperor of Vdalion's new age is Jokul, first of his name, sovereign of the north. So is my last decree as Hofgothi, for now Ivarr the Restless inherits my burden within the temple while Eitr and I assume our duties as whitebeards."

Quote:

"Shaggard DeGray, long, you have hidden behind everyone around you. Long, pretended to be a friend. You overstep, for your cult is no holder of power beyond a clan, unable to alter history.

 

I challenge you to honor duel. Face me to the death, to answer for this grave transgression, or retire a coward and a liar.

 

I don't expect a reply. You always have been one to get others to do things you couldn't."

Quote:

"Ye' really expected yer boy to believe that tripe about worthiness with yer weapon. A parlour trick any riftmancer could achieve, but with less intolerable piousness.

This is what it feels for ye' to be weak and powerless. Banished, unclanned, stricken from Vdalion's history, an oathbreaker before the Moot. I have nothing to prove, I have been a priest for three decades within Vdalion, I have never claimed to be mighty. You are stronger than me, old friend, but I have won."