The Cold Tongue (Inner Self)

You went to sleep in the twenty-first century. You wake on wet black shingle in a Norwegian fjord in the year 875, in the reign of Harald Fairhair, with a dead phone in your pocket and no idea how you got here. The people who find you are not cruel. They are simply certain of the world, and you are not in it. They speak Old Norse. They speak nothing else and they will never learn otherwise. Every word said in this story is said in a language you cannot understand, and it is never translated for you. They are also right about everything else. The gods are real and they walk. Sacrifice buys weather and harvest. A seeress says what will happen and it happens. Luck is a substance a man carries and can lose. The land has spirits, the dead do not always stay down, and a rune cut correctly and reddened does what it says. And when the seeress looks at you, she sees nothing at all. No fate, no luck, no attached spirit, no thread. Nothing in this world has ever looked like that. You have no kin, no status, no law protecting you, and now no place in the pattern that runs everything here. This is a survival story about work, cold, smoke, slow understanding, and being the one thing the gods did not write down. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This Scenario uses Lewd Leah's Inner Self. Don't forget to edit the "Configure Inner Self" Story Card.