Beorn of the Northern Sea: Difference between revisions

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==Assorted Poems==
==Assorted Poems==
Crown Poem for [[Agrippa Morris]]
The Crown List poem for [[Ozmund Rus]]


'''"Surrounded by Greatness" the Song of Agrippa'''
The Saga of Ozmund (as told to Sofia Bjornsdottir by Beorn of the Northern Sea)


''"As one of war, to stand still is to court death.
Hearken you now to the Saga of Ozmund!
''Yet to wage peace, one must be still."''


Sailor of Desert Seas, Tamer of Smoke,


The mighty ship's bow cuts through sheets of grey water
Husband to Marisa, exotic fair maiden,


Just like a new blade hews through curtains of steel
First to befriend, and the last to provoke.
Long had the lands of Starkhafn known Kingship.


Caid sends a call in the search for a Sovereign
Brother and Liege Lord had both held the Crown.


The greatest shall travel to endure the ordeal.
Ozmund took his lady's hands and gave her a promise:


He would enrobe her in a Caidan Queen's gown.


Agrippa the warrior stands at the forecastle
Bright was the dawn of the Spring Crown's beginning,


While Bridget the warrior stands by his side
Bright was the smile of Marisa his dear,


Sailing towards the most daunting adventure
Bright were the eyes of the Knight known as Ozmund,


Arriving with quickness upon Neptune's tide.
His heart burned with passion; his pathway was clear.


Ozmund was chosen by Jethro from Linthal


"Strike true and show mettle," the baroness whispered
A fighter for hire, a squire; his foe.


Agrippa then nodded and strode to the field
Ozmund dispatched him with terrible fury,


Sir Helgi was waiting and drew down in earnest
The journey had started, still so long to go.


Agrippa moved forward; the raven did yield.
His next fighter could not arise to the challenge,


So Oz stepped ahead to Adam, brother Knight.


The Saracen Mountain, Count Mansur, stood ready
The oak shook and wept with its silver leaves falling.


Once more did Agrippa move to the next round
One more foeman vanquished, still more left to fight!


Athanaric's most knightly presence blockaded
And now in the eric his brother Athanaric,


For naught as Agrippa still held to his ground.
A most worthy fighter who'd once held the Throne.


He looked at his ladywife, filled with dread purpose,


Though entering as brothers, Oz left it alone.


His Honor, good Oz of the Rus braced for contest
The warriors were falling, the few left were mighty.


Agrippa continued unfettered by loss
Sir Ozmund faced Halldórr, himself a Knight too.


Sir Thorin, though bathed in the pure Persian sunlight
The Northmen they circled and sought an advantage,


Kneeled down with respect to the Saint Brigid's Cross.
Sir Ozmund found one first and ran his foe through.


Just four now remained, three Knights and a Squire


But 'twas only one of them before had to rule,


A calm in the battle, a respite of sorts
As Ozmund defeated his brother Sir Niccolo


Allowed our Agrippa to marshal his nerve
Sven slew young Liam, setting up the last duel.


Wise Bridget was ready to defend should he need her
Duke Sven with dear Ismay had entered unblooded,


Such prowess is comforting when in reserve.
Sir Ozmund was also unblemished by loss.


On seeing each other, respectful, they nodded,


And thus came the battle to Crown Caid's Sovereign
Then grimly they set out as the field they did cross.


Sir Kjartan was ready, Agrippa as well
The two fought like lions, first one, then the other


The contest was mighty, the fighting was noble
Had fallen in combat to their foe's glorious deeds


Agrippa remained as the great lion fell.
One match then remained to determine a Champion


One sword stroke, one vanquished...  Hail Oz!  Al-Caid!


Then Bridget said, "please turn and look there behind you,
The Prince had been chosen! All rallied around him,


These fallen, the vanquished, those seeking the Crown
Ozmund saw nought but his lady and kneeled at her feet


These nobles, these warriors; no longer your foemen
And weeping with love for his Princess he wreathed her


As they lift you up, you must not let them down."
His journey now ended, his promise complete!


Agrippa could see, with the eyes of a hunter
The battle to rule is preparing to fight
And now the true contest lays gleaming about you
To serve as The King of the Blue and the White!
------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------------------
'''A Poem in Honor of Don [[Alexander Kallidokos]],OP'''
'''A Poem in Honor of Don [[Alexander Kallidokos]],OP'''
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Though slightly built, to me, he’s ten feet tall!
Though slightly built, to me, he’s ten feet tall!
---------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------
'''THLord [[Mikhail of the Kuma]]’s Dirge, 2011'''
O, listen all and hear this tale of woe!
For as he did, so shall we also go.
Since as the mountains sink into the sea
So do most men meet Death on bended knee.
And as the sky turns rosy, azure, black
The loam will be a pillow to your back.
All fighters travel to the Feasting Hall
The Norns have spun the time when you shall fall.
The Kuma sought the Kingdom of Caid
With Bridget, both do know the warrior’s creed
Their sights upon the Crescent Crowns to wear
‘Pon granite brow and lovely golden hair.
They’ve fought for Blue and White before
And wish to add their names forever more.
A wicked blade that thunders with each stroke,
As eloquent as words the bards bespoke.
Sir Halfdan first to face His Lordship’s might
Bear and Dragon locked in a mortal fight.
Great Kuma often stands the best and last,
Yet ‘twas Halfdan standing as they passed.
But Kuma’s wish to earn Caid’s Thrones
Burned down the center of his bones.
He faced Sir Valrik, another Dragon Knight.
Valrik prevailed, and Kuma lost the fight.
Some leave the barest traces of their life,
No glory, weeping, laughter, toil or strife.
These men are little known outside their time,
And rarely are their deeds set down in rhyme.
Just cobweb threads of silk within the mind.
Not so with Kuma, he was not resigned
To be forgotten; cruelest fate for men.
His Word Fame proves that he shall rise again!
----------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------
'''Laertes, Laertes, why are you so green?'''
''In the style of Dr. Suess''
For Baron [[Laertes McBride]]
There is known, in a place Called Altavia fair
A long slender man With a fine regal air.
He is cheerful and nice He is pleasant and fun
There is no one quite like him Well, I’ve not met one.
He’s quick as a wink He’s slicker than slick
When he stands very still He looks just like a stick.
A green stick to be certain A green stick to be sure
A stick that’s so stick like And a green nice and pure.
Well, the stick-man, Laertes For that is his name
Always guards little kiddies With his rapier’s true aim.
He’s defended the children More than any you know.
And his story begins Fifteen long years ago.
For Laertes was born A son of the Black Star
(As was your narrator, We both came from thar!)
Ansteorra you know Is a dangerous place
Oh the horrors to see! Oh the dangers to face!
There are monsters so scary They can scare with a blink
They have teeth sharp as razors They have fur black as ink
And what, do you think, Are these monsters about?
With their bumpy blah brows And their snotty snark snouts?
Oh why are these nightmares All about in the night?
I can tell you my friends, They just love a good fright!
All the monsters were happy To scare girls and boys
In fact, they would call it Their greatest of joys
So the King of his Kingdom Sent a call through the land
He was begging for someone To please lend a hand.
“These mean monsters,” he said, “Are all scaring the kids.”
So in true Black Star fashion He asked for some bids
When all the proposals Had been seen and heard
There was only a handful That were not thought absurd.
The Knights and the Lions Laurels, Pelicans too.
And then lonely Laertes. Now, what could he do?
So King Mikael the third Asked his champions in turn
What exactly they planned, He should so like to learn.
The knights swaggered up Puffing out their great chests
And they said, “We will conquer These insolent pests!”
The Lions walked in And they all took a knee
They explained very simply How cunning’s the key
Now who are the Lions? They’re rare people quite nifty,
How nifty and rare? There are fewer than fifty.
The Pelicans came And they bowed stiffly down
Then showed their dread weapon The '''“Mean Pelican Frown!”'''
The King was impressed, But he still wanted more
So the Laurels stepped forth And unearthed Laurel lore.
“Unless all the monsters Show documentation,
We’ll disallow scaring As a modern convention.”
Quite crafty the King Thought then to himself
Then he noticed Laertes Looking like a stretched elf.
“You there,” said the King “What are you planning there?”
Don Laertes said simply, “I shall be everywhere…”
Now the knights of the Kingdom Were all laughing quite hard.
With their weapons war worn And their armor war scarred.
“Ho HO!” said the knights Most others laughed too
Well, the Lions smiled sadly Saying “Luck be with you.”
Laertes, undaunted Kept close to his plan
He raced through the Kingdom Ev’ry mile, breadth and span.
Now the monsters would hide When they saw others come
But Laertes was ALWAYS Right there, up their bum.
All five groups kept on at it Seemingly to no avail
The great King darkly wondered Could they ALL of them fail?
First the knights then the Laurels Ceased fighting their fight
Then the Pelicans quit The great nightmarish blight.
Last to halt were the Lions Though all wracking their brains
But they finally relented And pulled to on their reins.
Don Laertes, alone Kept on with his goal
He traversed all the Kingdom Completely, in whole.
Then by chance, he did hear That the monsters were plotting
To destroy the slim fighter They ALWAYS were spotting.
All the monsters then gathered At a glade by a spring
And Laertes knew then How to end this whole thing.
Now in Ansteorra There isn’t much green
But the green that is seen Is the greenest of green!
Laertes disguised himself As a tall blade of grass
And waited with patience For the meeting to pass.
The fiends and the red caps The bogeys, the sprites
The will o’ the wisps And the vampires and wights!
Once all the collection Had made themselves known
Laertes sprang out And his smile, how it shone!
Now here I must stop With what happened that day
For the monsters are missing And Laertes won’t say.
So back to the castle Laertes rode on
To tell the assembly The monsters were gone.
“But how?” “What’d you do?” “Just how did you succeed?”
The King stopped the chatter And asked of the deed.
“Before I begin,” Said Laertes quite hotly,
“I think I should like To address this court motley.”
“You can’t swing a sword At a nightmarish thought.
There’s no bones can be broken Or no flesh to get caught.”
“Can you be more cunning Then nightmares of the mind?
They come from all corners, Left, right and behind.”
“How can you be meaner Than dreams a child dreads?
They attack every moment Children sleep in their beds.”
“And documentation? Are you kidding me?
These are monsters by Jove, Not the darn D.M.V.!”
“So, what did I do?” He said with fearsome stare
“I told them I’d be there For kids everywhere.”
“When they cry in the night If they fall, skin their knee.
All the children will know, They can all count on me.”
“So if the adults Can learn from our past,
We’ll guard our dear younglings And the Kingdoms shall last.”
Don Laertes then left Without one more word
For Kingdoms all over Had nightmares that stirred.
But why, do you ask, Does he always wear green?
Why to honor his victory At that first monstrous stream.
It was then as some grass He made good on his vow
To defend all the children Which he does even now.
And throughout his travels He befriends all he can see
From the wondrous March Hare To a giant like me.
Ol’ Baron Laertes Won’t fight here alone
Not since he has chosen Altavia as home.
For our fanciful Baron Was blessed on his life
By sweet Alexandra His beautiful wife.
His last stop, so I hope Is here in Caid
There are many cruel monsters We are surely in need.
Why Caid you may ask It is quite hard to say
Most likely ‘cause monsters That live attah way!
For in the West Kingdom The oldest reside
And those monsters all fear Don Laertes McBride
Laertes is awesome! I am pleased he’s my friend
Now, to honor my listeners This poem shall end.
To one of the greatest, most selfless, and honorable men I have met in all my travels…


== Miscellany ==
== Miscellany ==

Revision as of 09:21, 25 August 2016

Photo
Wiki pic 001a.png
Beorn at Queen Marisa's Festival of the Rose, 2016
Information
Preferred title: Not specified
Their Pronouns: Not specified
Resides: Gallavally in Dreiburgen
Status: Active
Awards: Visit the Caid Order of Precedence
Heraldry
Device 3.0.png
Per bend sinister embattled grady gules and argent, a lyre and a dolphin urinant counterchanged, within a double-tressure sable
Help with this sidebar

Baron Beorn of the Northern Sea, OL, is a simple friendly every day fighting bard of indeterminate mass. He was invited to join the Order of the Laurel at Caid's Spring Crown Tourney, A.S. LI (51) by TRM Conrad III and A'isha II. He was elevated to the Laurel by Ozmund and Marisa at Festival of the Rose, 2016.

Persona History

Baron Beorn of the Northern Sea, known at various times as Giuseppe Lorenzo Domenico Angelo de Medici, Brother Johannes, Marcus Commodus Maximus, and Ito Nobunaga was born in 1270 of the common reckoning. His mother, a dark impish maiden with a golden voice, had fallen for a Norse adventurer and their forbidden tryst led to fleeing the Kingdom of Dublin. Traveling the North Sea in summer, as her birthing time approached, they landed at the Shetland monastery on Lerwick. She was both very close to her time, and very ill. Beorn's father said he would go to fetch help from his family in Norway.

He never returned...

She delivered up her son and they asked her to name the child, she said Beorn, though he was baptized Johannes so as to not remain named of the Heathen. She held him in her arms and sang to him until she died a few hours later. A ruddy, powerfully built Irishman arrived a month after, claiming to be the girl's father. He saw the child, said for the monks to keep him, turned on his heel and never looked back. It was then Beorn became an oblate of the church.

He was raised to be a priest; trained in music, letters, medicine and husbandry. Before taking his final vows he was sent to the conflict happening on the main of Scotland, ostensibly as the Latin tutor for Robert the Bruce. He saw English knights running down unarmed commoners, and an anger rose in him; with his shepherd's crook he smote one of the riders clean off of his horse. The remaining English wheeled and turned to kill this upstart cloister, when Duke John Bearkiller and a small Welsh contingent crested the hill, intent on ridding the whole of the Island from English tyranny.

John liked this giant youth, gave him his seal, lent him some coin and told him to leave Scotland and find out who he really was, seeing as the priesthood was unsuitable. Beorn spent the next fifteen years engaging in a series of adventures hiring out as a minstrel, a mercenary, a clerk, a physic, and cook.

After settling in Meridies, Beorn, now a bard of some renown, apprenticed to the great Mistress Vashti. In his heady moments he then eloped with a minor lady from the Danish Kingdoms (apparently against the wishes of everyone, family and friend) and fled to Caid. Immediately after having a daughter, he was kidnapped by a merchant raider bound for the Orient. It was there Beorn's great size and strength was again put to the test, as he was sold to a wrestler's stable and he fought for the entertainment of the crowds for seven years, before escaping and making the long trek back to Caid.

Upon his return, he had been given up for dead, his lady remarried, and all his lands were seized in oath-price for the illegal elopement. He was battered, scarred, and unlanded... But, he was not broken. He seeks to reclaim his lands, his honor, and serve the kingdom as best he may.

Offices & Positions

Event Staff

Associations

  • Former Senior Apprentice to Her Excellency Mistress Sarita Vashti Al Coya, Gleann Abhann
  • Squire to His Grace Duke John the Bearkiller, OP, Gleann Abhann
  • A Pawn in Clan Gambit, Glean Abhann
  • Member of Inter-Kingdom Brewing Guild, "The Knaves of Grain"
  • Scholar of Fence, Caid Rapier Open Tournament, Darach 1998
  • Member of Fifth Brigade
  • Member of Upper Crust
  • A Founding Member of The Island of Rhodes
  • Contributor Crown Poems

Classes Taught

Assorted Poems

The Crown List poem for Ozmund Rus

The Saga of Ozmund (as told to Sofia Bjornsdottir by Beorn of the Northern Sea)

Hearken you now to the Saga of Ozmund!

Sailor of Desert Seas, Tamer of Smoke,

Husband to Marisa, exotic fair maiden,

First to befriend, and the last to provoke.

Long had the lands of Starkhafn known Kingship.

Brother and Liege Lord had both held the Crown.

Ozmund took his lady's hands and gave her a promise:

He would enrobe her in a Caidan Queen's gown.

Bright was the dawn of the Spring Crown's beginning,

Bright was the smile of Marisa his dear,

Bright were the eyes of the Knight known as Ozmund,

His heart burned with passion; his pathway was clear.

Ozmund was chosen by Jethro from Linthal

A fighter for hire, a squire; his foe.

Ozmund dispatched him with terrible fury,

The journey had started, still so long to go.

His next fighter could not arise to the challenge,

So Oz stepped ahead to Adam, brother Knight.

The oak shook and wept with its silver leaves falling.

One more foeman vanquished, still more left to fight!

And now in the eric his brother Athanaric,

A most worthy fighter who'd once held the Throne.

He looked at his ladywife, filled with dread purpose,

Though entering as brothers, Oz left it alone.

The warriors were falling, the few left were mighty.

Sir Ozmund faced Halldórr, himself a Knight too.

The Northmen they circled and sought an advantage,

Sir Ozmund found one first and ran his foe through.

Just four now remained, three Knights and a Squire

But 'twas only one of them before had to rule,

As Ozmund defeated his brother Sir Niccolo

Sven slew young Liam, setting up the last duel.

Duke Sven with dear Ismay had entered unblooded,

Sir Ozmund was also unblemished by loss.

On seeing each other, respectful, they nodded,

Then grimly they set out as the field they did cross.

The two fought like lions, first one, then the other

Had fallen in combat to their foe's glorious deeds

One match then remained to determine a Champion

One sword stroke, one vanquished... Hail Oz! Al-Caid!

The Prince had been chosen! All rallied around him,

Ozmund saw nought but his lady and kneeled at her feet

And weeping with love for his Princess he wreathed her

His journey now ended, his promise complete!

A Poem in Honor of Don Alexander Kallidokos,OP

As commissioned by Her Royal Majesty Caid, Kolfinna kottr:


Too few can match the lethal striking blade,

Or stand against the leaping lion’s might,

Don Alexander, few like you were made,

On you we may depend in any fight!


But let us not forget your genteel grace.

A nobler man could scarcely to be seen.

You serve with no reserve for time or place,

And doing so bring honor to your Queen!


There was a time when you did stand alone,

All fellow guards had fallen for Caid.

With blade well set and in a razor hone,

You vanquished all, what an impressive deed!


Some champions win the Consort’s field by arms,

Some through their arts or skills, by strength or guile.

But Alexander conquers with his charms,

His sword, his faith, his honor and his style!


It’s said that I sport an impressive span,

But Kallidokos has the larger heart,

In point of fact he is the greater man,

By bearing, manner, and the courtier’s art.


He slays the foes; he honors ladies all,

Though slightly built, to me, he’s ten feet tall!

Miscellany

Societal History

In 1982, I was playing Dungeons & Dragons at the Omniplex Science Center in Oklahoma City. My fighter/magic-user/thief Barnabus the Destroyer had just been slain by a poisoned crossbow bolt. I was informed it would be four hours real time before I could be raised from the dead (secretly, I just think they were tired of the six foot tall kid eating all the Funyuns), so I went wandering about and I heard a commotion downstairs. I looked over the railing and saw, what appeared to me at any rate, people in really interesting Kendo armor hitting each other with big fluffy axes. I went down and introduced myself to the kind-looking gentlemen standing there. He replied, "Hi, my name is William Blackfox."

In 1985 we moved to Atlanta, Georgia, and I attended a tournament called Red Tower. There was a really intimidating-looking knight with a not-so intimidating-looking smile watching me as I sang a piece I had written. I thanked him for his attentiveness, and said, "Hi! I'm Beorn." He replied, "Hello there Beorn, I'm John." And that was my introduction to the man who would later become my knight, Duke John the Bearkiller, OP.

In 1988 we moved to Northern Mississippi and I started attending the events in Memphis before matriculating to The University of Mississippi (Ole Miss). During one of my vocal outbursts (it would be too kind to refer to them as songs) I met the lady who would eventually become my Laurel, Her Excellency Mistress Vashti. As a matter of fact, I was (and still am) her first apprentice. In true clandestine fashion, I received my green belt under the table at a wine bar (the Gewürztraminer was excellent!).

Awards

Things I Like

  • Heavy Fighting
  • Rapier Fighting
  • Archery (target and combat)
  • Performance Arts
  • Composing Music
  • Writing Poetry
  • Cooking (especially sweet stuff!)
  • Consuming the cooking of others
  • Teaching
  • Providing shade for my tiny friends whilst on the battlefield


Photos

  • Beorn fighting at Highland War. 2010 Photo by Shanna Franklin

    Beorn fighting at Highland War. 2010 Photo by Shanna Franklin

  • Beorn performing at Potrero Bardic. 2011 Photo by Shanna Franklin

    Beorn performing at Potrero Bardic. 2011 Photo by Shanna Franklin

  • Beorn at Gyldenholt Unbelted. 2011 Photo by Drach

    Beorn at Gyldenholt Unbelted. 2011 Photo by Drach

  • Beorn performing Baron Laertes' Childrens' Poem. 2007 Photo by unknown

    Beorn performing Baron Laertes' Childrens' Poem. 2007 Photo by unknown

  • Beorn facing Snorri Snarfari Bjornsson at Fall Crown 2006. Photo by unknown

    Beorn facing Snorri Snarfari Bjornsson at Fall Crown 2006. Photo by unknown

  • Beorn at the Shire of Hammerhold, 1995. Photo by Lady Ingrid Gerdesdotter

    Beorn at the Shire of Hammerhold, 1995. Photo by Lady Ingrid Gerdesdotter

  • Beorn receiving Court Barony, 2007. Photo by Sir Leto Darkhorse

    Beorn receiving Court Barony, 2007. Photo by Sir Leto Darkhorse

  • Beorn fighting HRM Radu of Gleann Abhann, Samhain, 2010. Photo by Susana Leandra Macias

    Beorn fighting HRM Radu of Gleann Abhann, Samhain, 2010. Photo by Susana Leandra Macias

  • Beorn fighting (now Count) Rey Ribeaumont, 1996. Photo by Andrea McCormick

    Beorn fighting (now Count) Rey Ribeaumont, 1996. Photo by Andrea McCormick

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