The Beast That United, The Kill That Divided
Date: 18 Years After the Burning of Haugaeldr (18 AH)
Key Figures: Jarl Brynja of the Stone-Song Clan (Proto-Stone-Shield) and Chieftain Mord the Unbent (Frost-Fang)
In the bitter years following the Great Famine, a new horror emerged from the deepest ice: the Jökul-Sauðr, or "Glacier-Boar." This was no ordinary beast—it was a colossal monstrosity of living ice and matted frost-fur, with tusks like falling trees and a hide that turned aside all but the mightiest blows. It did not merely hunt; it devoured. It consumed entire herds of mammoths, destroyed geothermal vents in its passing, and left a trail of frozen waste that made the Frost-Grasp itself seem gentle. For three years, it made the vast tundra between the emerging nations impassable, a threat that recognized no borders or philosophies.
Driven to desperation, Jarl Brynja, a pragmatic leader who valued the collective good above all, did the unthinkable. She left her fortified settlement and marched under a banner of truce into the camp of Chieftain Mord, a brutal but honorable Frost-Fang warlord known for his hatred of "stone-dwellers." In a tense confrontation before Mord's entire clan, Brynja did not plead or threaten. She simply stated: "The Boar fears neither your axe nor my wall. But perhaps it will fear them together."
Mord, who respected strength above all else, saw the undeniable truth in her words. He spat on the ground, a gesture of contempt, and then gripped her forearm in the warrior's clasp. "For the hunt," he grunted. "Then we settle our own score." The Pact was struck.
For ten days, the two armies moved as one—a breathtaking spectacle of disciplined Stone-Song shield walls advancing in lockstep with the wild, skirmishing lines of the Frost-Fang hunters. They used Brynja's strategy and Mord's knowledge of the beast's habits, cornering the Jökul-Sauðr in the Blood-Snow Valley. The battle was epic. Mord’s berserkers shattered the beast's icy hide with their greataxes, while Brynja's warriors locked it in place with spear and shield, giving Mord the opening to plunge his rune-etched axe deep into its heart. As the monster fell, its death cry shook the mountains, and for a single, triumphant moment, the two clans stood together as victors, their cheers echoing as one.
The unity lasted only as long as the shared enemy. As the beast was butchered, the question arose: who gets the prize? The hide? The tusks? The potent, frozen heart?
Brynja argued for the principles of the nascent Commonwealth: the spoils should be divided according to need and contribution, used to strengthen both clans against the winter. Mord adhered to the Frost-Fang's "The Strong Take" philosophy. His warriors had landed the killing blow; the lion's share was theirs by right.
The debate turned to shouts, then to threats. Remembering their shared struggle, they avoided bloodshed, but the Pact shattered. They divided the carcass with cold, precise hostility and marched away from the valley in opposite directions, the silence between them heavier than the glacier's weight.
The Pact of the Twin Jarls became a foundational story, but for all the wrong reasons. For the Stone-Shield Commonwealth, it is a cautionary tale about the fickle nature of those who live by strength alone, used to justify their isolation and self-reliance. For the Frost-Fang Clans, it is proof that "stone-dwellers" are duplicitous and weak-willed, unable to honor the simple law of the kill.
It demonstrated brilliantly that giants could unite, but its bitter end taught them that they should not. The memory of that failed partnership deepened the chasm of mistrust, ensuring that future conflicts would be fought with the shadow of the Jökul-Sauðr looming over them—a reminder of a unity that was, and a division that would be.