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A boar in Valheim loves me and nothing else matters anymoreThat’s my boar, that’s my son
That’s my boar, that’s my son
Remarkably, my friends and I’s viking clan enteredThe Carrot AgeinValheimlast week. Given the magnitude of what we’d accomplished, we thought our great march into Orange County and beyond would slow. Hah, how naive we were. For we have welcomed new life into our camp; a hairy, robust life that we deeply cherish. I am delighted to announce that we are now loving fathers to a boar, and we will do anything to protect it.
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These principles governed our clan’s conduct and behaviour. We had become a rock-solid Jenga tower, one so stable we could withstand a hurried ejection, or even aSweet Chin Music, such was our cohesion. And yet, we hadn’t seen it coming; no-one could’ve seen it coming. A boar had crashed into our lives, and sent our blocks tumbling into disarray.
Awww, look at the way he’s clattering his skull into that workbench. Takes after us doesn’t he? What a cutie.
And so, the latter had been engaged. We skipped out of camp in search of a suitable piggy, and there it was, grazing amongst its peers. Cautiously, we approached it, stifling nervous giggles and outbursts. Turns out boars are alert, feisty creatures, and before we knew it, this rugged ham had pursued us back to camp.
The moment the boar hurtled into our home, I closed the front door, and turned to find it had not acclimated well. The boar pursued Ragnar and bashed him in the back repeatedly: a porcine behaviour which we soon realised had something to do with the torches scattered around our camp. Pigs don’t like fire, so we blacked out our camp, and even razed our kilns and smelters to create a zen environment for our skittish swine.
“Hey there mister! Oh loook, what sort of mess have you got yourself into here then?! Silly billy.”
Slowly, steadily, it would nibble on our treats. And we watched as it gradually gained the confidence to explore the pen. Sometimes we’d hop in just to check how it was doing, then get swiftly gored. But we laughed as we brushed the blood off our tunics, as we could tell that those tusks hadn’t rammed into us quite as hard as last time. Our boar had softened and our relationship had begun to grow.
Dads talk about what it feels like to bring life into this world; a love that knows no bounds, this indescribable feeling of protection towards a soft, pale sack of your creation. I’d say that our boar-child has taught us what it means to love and the challenges that come with fatherhood. We have had to re-evaluate our principles, the very fabric of our clan codes of conduct, to make way for our son. No morenaked sailson a whim, or spur of the momentmining expeditions. Certainly not without checking in on our little hammy wammy. He is ourworldand we will absolutely not use him as a means to farm leather scraps in the future. No, absolutely not, are you kidding?
