As Humankind increased and spread across the area that would one day be known as the Nortlands and Volkrad, they worshipped two gods above all others. It is the way of the Humans to think only of the problems that are immediately at hand, both in their labours, and in their worship. So their devotion went all to Taal , God of Wild Places, and his younger brother Ulric, God of Wolves and Winter.
Both gods gained many worshippers, and many temples were built to their glory. And yet Ulric was troubles. As he roamed the forests in wolf-form, and swept the hills in the guise of the icy north wind, it seemed to him more and more that his brother came before him in all things. So he visited Taal in his mountain palace, and spoke of his troubles.
“Brother,” said Ulric, “we are both powerful gods; we both have many worshippers throughout the world, and we are both revered and feared, as we should be. And yet I feel that I am less in stature then you.”
Taal leaned forward, his habitual frown growing deeper with concern. “Why is this brother?” he asked, and his voice was like the wind in the trees.
“You have your own kingdom,” replied Ulric, “every wild place belongs to you. My kingdom vanished long ago, before I was even strong enough to protect it.”
“But surely,” countered Taal, “you have my kingdom for nearly half the year, and neither I nor any other deity can banish your winters from our lands. Is this not enough?”
“But even in the depths of winter I am subject to your rule,” said Ulric. “My wolves take only the old and weak from your animals, and my snows freeze only the smallest of your rivers. There is nowhere that is mine all the time; with the coming of each spring I am left with nothing.”
“Then what would make you content?” asked Taal. “You cannot expect to shroud the world in winter all the time, for that would make you greater then all the gods.”
Ulric sat in through for some time, and Taal's mountain palace was shrouded in snow-bearing storm clouds.
“I would like a place,” he said at last, “a place where I can found the greatest of my temples, and where my followers can look to find me even in the heat of summer. Since you are my brother I feel that I can ask you this, and I am sure that you will not think it too much.”
Taal considered this for a moment, and then turned to his brother.
“Since you are my brother,” he said, “I will give you such a place. But I will make certain conditions.”
“First, the place must be of my choosing. Since I am your brother, I shall choose a place to please both of us, but once I have chosen, you must accept my choice”
“Secondly, you must agree that the winters in this place shall be no longer nor more severe then the winters in the rest of the land; although it shall be the centre of your worship, it shall still be in my kingdom, and must suffer no more at your hands then the rest.”
“Thirdly, you must be content with what I shall give you, and never again come to me asking for more. I shall make you this gift out of brotherly love, but to ask for more may make us enemies. If I accede to any further requests, I may feel that you are acquisitive and you may begin to despise me and covet my kingdom; and if I refuse you more, you may feel that I am cold-hearted and not a true brother to you. So this must be the end of it, for both our sakes.”
“If you agree to my conditions, I will give you a place for your own, to be yours for the rest of time regardless of the season.”
“What say you?”
Ulric though for a long time, considering Taal's conditions carefully. At last he decided. The storm clouds vanished, and he resumed his favorite form – a great, silver-white wolf.
“Very well,” he said – and his voice was like the baying of a hundred wolves, “I accept your conditions.”
So Taal took Ulric to a place in his kingdom where a single pinnacle of rock stood out above the forest, pointing skywards like a finger of a god.
“Here is the place,” he said, “I had been thinking of making myself a temple here, so that my most faithful followers can prove their devotion by climbing to the top. But since you have asked, I shall make you a gift of it.”
Ulric walked all round the pinnacle, and looked at it from every side. Then he struck the rock a mighty blow with his fist, shattering the top and leaving a flat stump a mile across.
“This will make a good place for a temple,” he said, “and on this rock shall grow a great fortress city, secure against all enemies. The fires in my temple here shall burn eternally, and men shall look here to find me, above all places in the world.”
“Thank you, brother, I am more then pleased with your gift.”
And so it came to pass. The Humans found the “Fist-strike Rock” (or Fauschlag in the northern tongue), and on its summit a rocky fortress and a mighty temple were built, the fortress grew into a city; and the city was named Middenheim – The City of the White Wolf.