Aesyr pulled his blade from the lord’s chest and surveyed his new throne room. He was picturing where his new trophies would go when he heard commotion coming from behind him. He turned his head and watched four humans enter the room, taking up positions in a wide half-circle. Aesyr smiled and rested his blade on his shoulder.
“I figured there were more of you slinking about,” Aesyr turned and readied his blade. They were half his size, little more than babes in mail. He motioned to the body slumped on the throne. “You’re too late to save your lord, but you can still die for him, if you’d like.”
The humans all looked towards the man leading their group, carrying with him a mace and oak shield. He roared a battle cry and charged, and the rest echoed his cry and followed.
Aesyr began to laugh, the adrenaline surging through him as he swung his blade, almost double the size of the humans, in a wide arc.
The leader rolled under it, two of the others didn’t. They tried to block the enormous iron greatsword with their weapons. Their blades broke and their bones followed, the sheer force behind the weapon slamming them into the wall, where they crumpled into two bloody heaps.
Aesyr’s laugh transformed into a loud guffaw as he swung the back of his hand into one guard’s face. He heard a satisfying crunch and the man skipped limply along the ground.
The final human reached up and slammed his mace into Aesyr’s belly. The human staggered backwards, the mace bouncing off Aesyr’s heavy armor and formidable girth. The giant reached out and grabbed the human by his throat.
“And you people wonder why we look down on you,” Aesyr grumbled as he tossed the man back towards the throne. “Kneel before me, and beg for my mercy.”
The human spat blood and climbed to his feet. He looked at his dead allies and then to his fallen lord. He locked gazes with Aesyr and the two stood silently. Eventually the man slumped to his knee.
“Please, grant me mercy.”
Aesyr approached and looked down at the sorry excuse for a warrior. He couldn’t save his lord, he couldn’t avenge him, and he couldn’t even die honorably.
“No.”
Jarls are a Red and Gray specialization. These are the Giants who staunchly refused to be cast into the wilderness and serve as the leaders of their people. They thrive in the thick of battle, taking hits that would fell most and laughing it off. Their Ultimate aids them in this regard, adding another layer of defense to their already substantial health pool.
Nothing excites a Jarl quite like the feeling of wading into battle with their massive claymores in hand. Aside from being durable, Jarls have a large focus on Frenzy. Normally, Frenzy only happens after one player has used their Second Wind, but Jarls are an impatient bunch.
As a rule, Jarls are stubborn and proud, seeking to earn glory, gain territory, and build their legacies whilst defending against those who would try and stop them. Their culture is steeped in honor duels and ancient blood grudges, and to lose a battle is to cast shame upon the family name.
Every Jarl will leap at the opportunity to prove themselves to the world, especially against other Jarls.
Both in and out of combat, Jarls are an intimidating lot. Their very gaze can make men flee, and their war cries echo in the tales of Skalds. To show even the smallest bit of hesitation is enough to invite ridicule, and once a Jarl knows their opponent is afraid, they do not relent.
Conquer The Skels as the Jarl!
Grab a copy of Winterstorm to play as this Specialization!