Welcome to Saxonheim, a Life is Feudal player community

Godric walked towards the village center of new Saxonheim. As he looked around him he was filled with pride. Indeed, his tribe had come much further than he ever thought possible when he first washed ashore on this island.

So many memories came back to him. He had been a hermit until Artorias found him and offered him a tribute of apple tree seedlings. This was the start of a great cooperation. Both men labored day and night for many weeks and became as brothers to each other. And their labor was rewarded: What started as a series of hovels surrounded by stinking tar pits and clouds of flies turned into a formidable fortified town with stone walls the likes of which was rare on the island at the time. Yet the Gods decided to test the Saxons, for the moment the old town was finished the great doom to swallow it whole in fire and ash. Many great Saxons died chocking on vulcanic fumes or were driven mad with loss. Only a handfull made it out into the wilderness where they waited for the lava streams to run their course and the land to cool down.

To add to this cosmic joke the Gods turned old Saxonheim back into a swamp when thing started to grow on the fertile ashes. By now the old town is home to frogs and beetles again. Godric took this harder than the rest and it was around this time that he started to show cracks in his sanity. Drinking what was left of Esmeralda's cider and wines, he claimed prophetic visitations in his drunken deleriums. Considering the land cursed, Godric Aegenwulf, chieftain of the Saxons moved his people south to the butterfly plain where a new Saxonheim has been built. By this time he was old and feeble, and he was reduced again to living in rags.

Godric violently shakes his head as if to awaken from a bad dream to return to the present. He looks to the Bloodraven banner flying over the castle gate of New Saxonheim, next to the flag with the sigil of House Aegenwulf.

The old feud between the Bloodshield Clan and the Ravenheart Mercenaries shook the land in a series of wars before the doom. And we were settled right in the middle. Now they have joined forces, a fact which strikes fear into the other houses. A so called Crown Alliance has formed to try and contain it's influence, but only time will tell if that is enough to stop Tawl Bloodraven and his battlehardened men. Saxons and Bloodravens are now fight and die together. But this alliance was Artorias's accomplishment, not Godric's. There will be many battles to come, and perhaps in time Saxon steel will help carve out a kingdom in the Crownlands.

But those are challenges for a leader greater than Godric the swamp hermit. Artorias Aegenwulf has honed his leadership skills and combat prowess beyond that of a simple saxon warrior. And he has accepted his new role as the new Chieftain of the tribe.

Godric puts away his sword and clutches his worn mallet which he raises to the sword shaped statue in the center of the village as he roars: Long live the chieftain!