Battle Museum
The old caretaker gasped as a giant Northman came into the museum, a scarred crate on his shoulder. "I greet you," the stranger said with a strong accent. "Do you be the owner here?" The caretaker nodded, unable to make his tongue work. He glanced around at the Battle Museum's walls and cases filled with priceless relics. All the stories about the wild, fearless marauders from the frozen mountains poured through his mind. "That is a good. I am called Ulrich." The caretaker nodded again, then stammered, "Please don't break the cabinets." It sounded ridiculous even as it came from his mouth. Ulrich looked around and nodded. "They are being lovely work. My papa is like wood working." Ulrich strode toward the museum counter, and the caretaker stepped back until a wall bearing crossed halberds stopped him. One rattled off it's hook and clattered to the stone floor. The Northman placed the crate on the counter and opened it. A j...