I am Olaf, warrior chief of Haithabu.
From beyond the grave, this is the story of my last day in the world of the living.
We were forced to leave Önguls Island in boats at first light after the death of Gorm, our great leader. We headed away from the Danelaw as it had become too unsafe for us to stay: we would have to find an offshore haven. After ten hours of rowing I cast my raven into the air, and instead of flying back into the boat he rose up and headed away towards the evening sun. We redoubled our efforts on the oars, following the raven’s line, and within two hours made landfall on the island of Mön.
After drawing the trusty boat up onto a rocky beach and leaving a guard, we set out over land to find cover and shelter for the night. We were all exhausted, but nevertheless moved stealthily inland.
Only a few hundred paces from the boat, a group of Celtic warriors suddenly ran from hiding places in thorn bushes and overwhelmed my group. As leader, I was the first to fall. Although the warriors from our following boat soon beat back the attack, for me it was too late.
In the attack, my magical amulet Mjollnir was lost as it flew away into the bushes.
During the next week, camp was made near the battle site and my body was prepared for burial within our boat, with all my prized weapons and possessions. All except my amulet, which I can now see but am powerless to recover. I dream that one day it will be found and sent back to my home land of Haithabu, where its power may be restored and passed on to me here.
Since the day it was lost, no respectable and trustworthy seeker has followed my trail to the amulet. I am now forced to appeal using unfamiliar means.
The descendant of my faithful raven patrols the seven hundred and twenty one paces from landing place to amulet, in the hope of guiding brave searchers. He is to be recognised by his red beak and legs. Wizards will supply the knowledgeable with the means of following the raven’s flight over land, using the magical angle of one hundred and twenty one. The landing place has been marked by runic stones.
Whoever finds the amulet may take it and pass it on to trusted friends, who will swear to return it to its original home. Brave searchers who follow later should not be disappointed if the amulet is gone, so the finder must leave a trinket of value at the site so the spot is always marked. All should mark their success there, and note their achievement in view of the world.
Be warned, however. Although the powers of the amulet are now weak, it will still protect itself from those of corrupt or criminal ways – men and women of such persuasion must not seek the amulet!