[Ascension] Prologue - Lográgæti - The Birth of Heroes

It was a great error to have used the hunter's hand signs. While the elder members would have known, Fritvor and the others would have been clueless. Small wonder that the great man had barreled ahead, defeating the purpose of a scout. Even at the edge of his hearing the smith apprentice had come charging in blindly. What use then was a scout when all were content to leap into the palm of the claw? For now there could be little doubt for that is what this was.


As if a great beast closed it's grasp to rend the life from those within, the world began to fade away. It's breath a colorless fog from the depths of Feigr encircled him, nipping at him in every direction. Sound dimmed slowly at first, then all at once ceased. Even the sound of his own steady breath now failed to reach his ears. Fritvor ahead vanished as the nothingness fog encircled him, and the way behind was gone. Even the footprints behind and beneath his very feet had disappeared like the morning dew. Stepping forward, the giant did not appear again.


Björn had experienced something akin to this once. Tracking a great wolf near the summit of Grytt, the world became enshrouded in fog and the entire mountain turned perilous. Then his best choice had been to cease the hunt, and make his spot defendable until he could once again see. Instinct told him doing so here would be fatal. This fog was not natural, even slowly attempting to slip into his lungs burning his throat with fire. Loosing an inaudible cough, his gaze returned to the one remaining fixture in this world.


The crystal glowed with the same bewitching light, the talon of the claw that wordlessly called forth this devilry. Old laments flowed into his ears carrying the remorse of the refugees whom he had helped along. Tales of demons and the dead roaming the mists from the frozen world. Standing here the tales were entirely believable. If one could not escape the trap, then the only recourse was to turn upon the hunter.


Drawing back his arm, Björn's veins bulged in the twilight mists as arrow was turned to the remaining light. If he should perish here then it might be some small comfort that not all of them would fall, and that he would not go quietly. The others might have seen the example and returned to warn the others. Focusing in the mist, Björn readied to fire...then carefully stopped. Gently bringing his frost encrusted arm with a painful slowness, Björn removed the arrow returning it to quiver. While it was doubtful they remained, his shot may hit the others who fell into the palm.


Returning his bow to back, the knife was drawn and the charge readied. Entrusting himself to the spirits with a small prayer, the great bear lumbered forward tossing great swathes of snow aside. Mowing through the chaff it reached the crystal's dark center and swung down it's claw seeking to protect what it could from this winter beast's malign grasp. Let us see how it compares to the might of Björn Strong Bow!
 
Miz said:
@Runeblue - Wulfgar attempted to run towards the Jotnar, however as he tried to catch up to the scout and the giant a mist screen seem to materialize almost instantly in front of him. Both of his comrades, who had saw only a moment earlier vanished into the internment. Even his master and the Skald seem to disappear when he looked behind. The wind as well which has been steadily growing stronger suddenly became a great gust at his back and then his left side. The wind was strong but appeared to be somehow concentrated as the mist didn't seem affected.
Click to expand...
"Of course, I'm a moron for rushing in blindly." he says to himself. "Well, I doubt this mist is natural. I suppose the only thing left for me to do is to go ahead."
 
..."If you can hear me, shout!"


The Jotnar tread the way he came, each leg rising up high, and slamming down into the snow, swallowing the fur boots. No footprints were even visible when the Jotnar moved on. Each step seemed to make the air colder, the wind sharper, the mist thicker... it disoriented the giant. Was he even going the right way anymore? Was he going around in circles? It should be getting better, not worse! He cried out again, but the words seemed to be swallowed by the wind. No response came before, and none would certainly come now. A small spark of fear welled up in the giant's chest. Was this really how he would die? He shook his head vigorously, removing the thought altogether. No, it was simply cold and bitter, what could that do? Crossing his arms, he looked back at the bright, shining light cutting through the mist. He wished there was something he could focus on, something else to look at. It was so shrouded, so... white. Thoughts encircled the Jotnar's mind on what to do.


"This crystal... it shines so... bright."


It seemed important to the Jotnar, he just couldn't place why. Why was that so good? So important? He felt compelled to walk towards it... but he needed to find the others... what would he be doing in their shoes... And then it finally snapped in the giant's brain. It seemed so obvious. He rushed towards the crystal, blood pumping fast in his body. He didn't need to alert the others where to go, or ask where they were - they were all trapped in the mist - and they would go to the crystal like a beacon!


"Like flies to a flame!" the Jotnar exclaimed, as his right foot pummeled the snow. His arms arched wide beside his enormous chest, he hunched lower to increase his speed. The wind pounded his back, pushing him forward to the light.


"I'll find them and then we can go home..."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Shinta had been the last one to depart from the boat. Men she thought as she grabbed a bag one of them left behind in their excitement for action and adventure. However that was a big mistake, she shouldn't have taken as long as she did or perhaps they shouldn't have forgotten so quick about one of their comrades.


As she got out of the boat she realized the thick mist, even though the light penetrated, it provided little warmth or comfort. She couldn't see any of the others. Sighing, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked towards what she assumed was the massive bright light, keeping her hand on her small hammer that is on her hip.
 
@Monsterous - As the Jotnar approached the large crystal, its shining glow seemed to become brighter. Yet even with the increase in luminosity, the mist did not seem to become brighter around him. The dark mist didn't even appear to reflect the light. However as the Jotnar stood before the large shard of ice, he could see the thing inside with great clarity. It looked like a man yet his height was similar to the Jotnar. A giant? It was possible. Examining it further the Jotnar would come to notice that the giant inside however was not still, not dead and not inanimate like a person in ice should. His body seemed to breath, and his fingers appeared to twitch. Then his eyes opened, interlocked with the Jotnar's. That is when the large crashing sound could be heard. It was like two metal giant cleavers clashing against one another, except all around him. The light became blindly at this point and almost everything faded to light.


@Runeblue and @Action Replay - The mists around each of your characters seemed to devour the entire world. Everything but your body and your attached possessions seemed to just disappear into the cloud. Not even light even passed through. The grayness, the blankness of it all could have driven a man blind. Until a loud crashing noise could be heard from all around you. It was that moment, a distant light could be seen from the horizon. The light only rapidly grew in size like a rising sun, until it came rushing towards you. In seconds you were blind and swept off your feet pulled towards the very center of the icy palm.


Others outside the Mist - Your characters' shouts into the mist seemed to have gone unheard. Yet all of you notice that the wind which has only picked up strength since you arrived on the claw appears to be pushing you inward. As the surf rises above the claw's edge causing your boat ram against the iceburg, a loud crashing noise could be heard. While it sounded like it came from inside the claw, you couldn't particularly tell exactly where from the sound originated. The entire sound, something similar to a metal object being worn smooth against a stone, seemed to come from the center of the claw, but also its side and below its surface.


Seconds after this loud piercing noise, the mist appeared to encroach outwards and a bright light appeared to arc along the water encircling the island. Looking around you would have all seen a wall of water rising between the island and the circle of light, before all became white and you felt your bodies being thrown by some sort of wave inwards towards the center of the claw.
 
The Large ice crystal encasing him shattered, however it did not dart outwards as one would expect. The ice only went a few feet from the man inside before suddenly stopping. It was here that the man dropped to his feet and stood on the ice, his eyes fixed on the large man in front of him. The man was pale in complexion, and stark naked, his hair was a mess of white. Looking into his eyes one would see a dull grey. After a brief pause, the man stilling looking right into the eyes of the Jotnar, spoke. "Ποιος είσαι εσύ?" It was a dialect never heard by anyone from the heart islands.


This strange man took a deep breath, as the mist filling the islands swirled and the wind crashed and grew erratic. However, the mist did not say, it was drawn to the man's open mouth, and as it entered him, life returned to his features. His skin started to flush with colour, his eyes turned sky blue, his hair became dark brown. The mist vanished, and the wind with it. The temperature on the claw suddenly changed. The cold left the island as the newly rejuvenated man closed his mouth. The sun could be felt again and the air clear of obstruction.


The man could see all the people around him now. He scanned them all, and noticed weapons in many of their hands. He frowned and reached outwards to his sides with his hands. All the ice shards around him reacted. They twisted and swirled in the air and began to turn white and glow. The shard then rapidly returned to the man, and encased his body. He became a glowing silhouette in seconds. From his hands grew large spikes of... something. It seemed as if his glowing silhouette expanded outwards from his hands towards the sky.


The glow became stronger before exploding outwards in a nova or light generating a sound akin to the clasp of thunder. As the light vanished there stood the man. His was completely clothed and armoured in plate metal, his hands each holding a sword far longer then most men could hold in one hand, easily 5 feet long and broad. The two swords were and obvious pair, however they were quite different. --[Appearance]


The blade in his right hand was a white steel with καλοσύνη engraved on the surface. The hilt hand an intrauterine golden owls head where the blade met the grip, and the crossguard was gold owl wings. The grip was seemed to be made of a white leather. The pommel had a blue gem inside of it.


The blade in his left hand was a smokey grey steel with αιμοβορία engraved on the surface. A silver snakes head appeared where the blade met the grip with a crossguard that hand a snakes body wrapped around it. The grip was a made of a black leather. The pommel had a red gem inside of it.


The man with both swords in hand, looked across the claw at everyone, before speaking. "χαμηλότερος τα όπλα σας. Είμαι Nomos."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Baelin's hammer had been raised high once more, as if to smash the spike containing the tiny glowing fragment, and to retrieve the mystical piece therein. Throughout all his earlier efforts, however, the wind had begun to pick up. It had been nearly unbearably strong as he took the first swing against the spike. It never connected, as he found himself blown off his feet and sucked into the depths of the mist.


It took the man a while, but he dragged himself to his feet just in time for the floating pillar of ice to shatter. He raised his arms reflexively, as if to shield himself--he was unable to block Shinta as well on such a short notice--but quickly discovered that none of the ice came flying towards the group. He managed to lower his arms, only to snap back into a ready stance the moment he saw the man. Whoever it was stored away inside the ice, Baelin would do his damnedest to make sure that his family had remained safe.


The words the man spoke were frustrating an unintelligible. Never before had he heard anything like that, and trying to understand them sidetracked him long enough. By the time he realized what he was doing was a fool's errand, the large man before him already had two swords in hand, and appeared ready to use them. Massive swords, at that, and far bigger than even he could be expected to wield, let alone in a single hand.


The man's next words came just as unintelligible as the last. By this time, Baelin found himself lowering his hammer. I cannot possibly match this man in a bout of strength. Best to simply see what he wants... He stepped forth and cleared his throat before addressing the man. "Who are you, large man?"
 
A constant ringing penetrated the Jotnar's ears, reverberating in his skull. His vision was flared with an intense bright light, even when he covered his eyes with his hands in pain. Hunched over, the Jotnar fell to one knee, hoping it would all stop. Gritting his teeth seemed to ease it all somewhat. In those few moments his mind began to process what had happened, but only confusion came from it. The only thing that made sense was what the giant saw... when he saw that thing inside the crystal... it was like a man but not quite... and those eyes... He caught a glimpse of the eyes before the Jotnar's sight and hearing overloaded.


Several loud thumps echoed over the ringing in the Jotnar's mind, now finally dying down. His hands moved away slowly from his eyes, his head rising up to look at what laid before him. His vision rose from ice shards wedged into the snow, to a pair of pale legs, to a muscular chest, to a strange face with a grey set of eyes. Those eyes were so powerful, so ancient, and it's gaze locked with the giant's, looking past the eyes and into the mind, the mind and soul of Fritvor. He felt like a young boy compared to this man, this monster, this... god. He felt afraid, but for some reason compelled to admire the beauty of this man, and how that beauty was much like the crystal. In a way, both had a strange sense of perfection.


Then the mist disappeared, with a simple motion of the man opening his mouth and inhaling. The wind went away to, and the Jotnar could see everything once again. The sky, the ocean, the land, and at last, his companions. The sun shining overhead, shadows forming on the ground. Warmth, light, and a slight natural breeze, the swaying of the waters and the crashing of waves. The Jotnar rose up at last, breathing in heavily. The air was clear, and sweet to breathe in. Before the Jotnar could speak however, the man glowed with a radiant shine, the crystals embedded in the snow rising up quickly - entering and joining with the man. A large explosion of light occured, thunder piercing the Jotnar's ears. At least the sensation lasted briefly - but he took a step back all the same to control his balance. The man was now fully clothed and armoured, wielding a pair of ornate swords. But those were on the outskirts of his vision, the Jotnar continued to look at the man's eyes.


"χαμηλότερος τα όπλα σας. Είμαι Nomos." the man spoke. To the Jotnar, it made no sense, but the words commanded authority and power. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? The only thing he could muster was a simple question.


"Who are you, friend?" the Jotnar asked, smiling. He held his right hand out, palm open. He was afraid, but at the same time he felt... safe. At least he hoped he was.
 
Even as the Skald was clambering across the frigid ice- stump before his eyes to shield them from the blowing wind, as he pushed on. He had answered the Jotnars cry, but had himself remained unanswered- and as he lost sight of the others, this filled him with worry. The old man pushed on, pushed himself hard- and he was breathing heavily, starting to feel his age perhaps, as the Mist blew away...


As the Old man looked up, and was shocked- stunned- and perhaps entranced, by the sight before him. "What /magic/ is this..?" He murmured, as his stump arm went slack, and his other went to his side, wary. His eyes fixed forwards. "Who are you? What is this?" He cried out, as he approached- closer and closer... eyes darting between the two /beautiful/ swords.
 
Shinta wandered in the fog for a bit until it suddenly cleared, and then everyone came into vision. They were gathering around a large naked man, who was inhaling the fog and then the crystals flew at him, forming his clothing or rather what appeared to be armor. Quickly after followed two large swords, and yet no one seemed frightened or ready to battle. Somehow she also understood that it was futile, instead she slowly returned to her husband's side and subconsciously reached into her bag for some rations and offered it to the large man. She wasn't scared, but she also knew what ever they did was hopeless and many alliances and friends through out their history has been made over food, it is the common thing that humanity shares.
 
The light only rapidly grew in size like a rising sun, until it came rushing towards you. In seconds you were blind and swept off your feet pulled towards the very center of the icy palm. The chill increased in it's intensity until it numbed out everything, the bow and quiver falling from his back even as his knife was torn from his hands by the wind. The blinding light soon muffled itself into pure darkness with a heavy impact, and Björn's world ceased.


As a large snowdrift accumulated at the center of the heavy winds, with Björn's large bear coated behind pointed skywards and into the general direction of Nomos. His upper half buried in the snow. Use gale responsibly, wizards.
 
Miz said:
@Runeblue and @Action Replay - The mists around each of your characters seemed to devour the entire world. Everything but your body and your attached possessions seemed to just disappear into the cloud. Not even light even passed through. The grayness, the blankness of it all could have driven a man blind. Until a loud crashing noise could be heard from all around you. It was that moment, a distant light could be seen from the horizon. The light only rapidly grew in size like a rising sun, until it came rushing towards you. In seconds you were blind and swept off your feet pulled towards the very center of the icy palm.
Click to expand...
Blinded by the light, Wulfgar used his feet to feel his way to the center until he felt the massive tug at his waist, shouting in surprise at the sensation. He began swinging wildly until he noticed he was no longer flying towards the light and cracked open one eyes only to see an extremely large man surrounded by the crowd of people though what truly drew his eyes was the ornate chest plate and just by looking at it he could see the incredible quality of the craftsmanship, from the grooves angles just so for the optimum force deflection or absorption to the joints that were so clearly crafted with the perfect combination between range of movement and protection.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Having remained silent and inactive during the recent happenings, staying back and watching the others in quiet confusion, Raskar begun to realize that he was in danger.


Before he could make use of that realization he was flung into the mist, carried knocked off his feet by the wind and slammed into the cold ice.


He found himself alone in the mist, unable to see anyone or hear anything over the howling wind. In desperation he sought to find something other than the cold ground to navigate by, and in a feeble attempt to escape his grey surroundings he darted towards the only thing he could see; the light at the claw's center.


To his relief he soon found the others, but as soon as he saw the ice-adorned being at the center of it all he stopped in his tracks.
 
He couldn't recognize what people were saying, or the language they were speaking. It was not the language of his people, it was something else entirely. However, that was a non issue for him. The strangers seemed to lower their weapons and approach with caution and non-hostility. The largest of the men had their hand outstretched towards him, yet not even he could compare with the height of this titan. The armored man stood tall, almost eight feet tall. Taking his black blade, he plunged it into the ice, and grabbed onto the Jotnars hand. Upon their touching, the hand of the Jotnar and the titan glowed with a radiant white light. Warmth could be felt radiating outwards from their touch.


There was a reason for this transaction, it was more then a friendly greeting. No, the titan was learning their language through this man. IT lasted a few seconds before the Titan released his grip. "Who are you people. Where am I?" The man spoke towards the whole group of them, as he plunged his white sword into the ground beside his black sword.
 
The Jotnar's hand felt incredible. On contact, his skin pulsated with some kind of warmth, his bones shook with invigoration. Then a rumble in the Jotnar's mind kicked in, coarsing throughout his body - all happening in an instant. A bright light radiated from the Jotnar's palm, and the titan's encompassing hand. After the titan released his grip, the Jotnar opened his palm and gazed at it. It felt different, new somehow. He closed the hand into a fist slowly, and reopened it like a blossoming flower. A sharp crack echoed in the bones. The good kind. A loose word slipped from the Jotnar's mouth, "Incredible..."


Averting his gaze, he looked upwards - an impossibility in the Jotnar's books, to look up at a man's face. But here he was, and he was just a man to this true titan. He spoke in a questioning, commanding tone, plunging his sword into the ice a piercing note singing from it's fresh wound. A second wound soon followed, the brother sword joining in. "Who are you people. Where am I?" were his words. The Jotnar was compelled to answer, he began the sentence in his thoughts. "We are..." but thought better of it. The Elder Skald was perhaps the one to answer this titan's questions. He looked at the elder, and nodded with a smile.
 
As the Skald takes his stance- right foot planted forward, left foot behind that one planted firm. He looks up to the massive figure, and breathes out- panting hard as he let's his claw rest to one side, and his other hand raise up to shield his eyes from the sun as he begins. His voice is deep, and resonant- it thrums from deep within his massive chest- and dwarfed as he is by the Titan 'afore him, he speaks. "WE are the people, of the Heart of Stone. We are the People, of Grytt. We are Farmers in peace, warriors in war. We are the ones who build monuments to last till the End-Times, and who raise walls to shield our people. We are the warriors who raid only when raided first, and we are the ones who sing in war and peace alike. We are the people of Jordfell, the Great Stone Mountain. And we are the ones who stand before you, Titan, as you awake! I am Vylkor Fenrir, Skald- Warrior and Tale-Teller, Keeper of my Peoples Lore. The Jotnar Fritvor, stands before you- and at my sides stand Baelin of the Hammer, Wulfgar the Warrior, Bjorn the Archer. Who are /YOU/, Titan?" He has risen to a proud, reverberating voice- and drawn himself up to his own full height- and likely come up to just below the titan's Pecs- but still. The Message is intact.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
An Elder man stepped forward to speak with him. The man seemed weathered, his arm replaced with a claw of all things. Listening intently to the old mans words, he started to get an idea of where he landed. These were savages, far away from where he would have hoped to land. With two fingers massaging his head as he listened the titan spoke up when asked who he was. "Who am I? I am the lord of high heavens, right and wrong are nothing more then I declare them to be. I am the laws governing a society to the very laws controlling the world. Do you not see? I am law! The god Nomos!" The titan spoke loudly, his voice seemed to boom and echo across the ice flow.


The good looked at the Elder man again. "You have been most informative." The titan picked up his white sword and held it firmly in his hand before uttering a few words in his native tongue. "ο νόμος είναι είδος" With that, the Scalds clawed arm fell from his body, and out grew a fully functional arm and hand, his hair became more managed, his skin seemed to rejuvenate, the elder man appeared far more capable then before as if a decade of his life had been restored. As he would need to be, for the quest he was to embark on, for the quest they were all to embark on, would be perilous. Yet he needed this assistance of these mortals, and in time they might understand why.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
The Skald stands his ground proudly- at first- astonished by the figures claims, but not entirely discounting them- though perhaps their scope. God's have walked in tales before- but never a God claiming such wide influence, that he recalls- and then his eyes go wide- as he gasps out- his arm falling away.... dust on the wind, soon replaced- as he raises his new, functional hand before himself- stretching it, flexing the muscles, amazed- trying to feel for it once more. "I- how- Wha- I- you..!" As he looks up in awe, his stance broken as his eyes widen. His grey hair blows back in the wind, as he speaks. "....You Speak Truly, clearly- what do you wish of me, then..?" he speaks softly, now- no longer booming authoritatively; too off guard and shocked by the impossible occurring before his eyes.
 
@Inquisitor Muhaha - The entire iceburg rumbled beneath you as the mystical being revived the Skald's once defunct limb. The arm was different than the other, youthful in vigor it looked like an arm of a man 20 years younger if not more. The rumble however which began as soon as the mystical being in front of you utilized his powers, began to grow as the Skald examined his new limb. Soon enough an entire section of the ice split away causing a similar sensation to Jordfell's anger (i.e. Earthquake).


All became quiet however after the large section of ice behind you all made a splash into the water. That was until a ferocity roar could be heard beneath you that shook some of you into terror.
 
Baelin stared on in awe at the happenings of the iceberg. From the giant, even larger than the Jötnar, speaking his first words in their language, to the regrowing of the Skald's lost arm, there was little that wasn't a shock to the man. I do not like this. Something seems off. This man... This thing... It does not seem right. He listened to the creature's ramblings on about its purpose, its origin, and what it was. He could hardly believe a word of it. A demon, a test from Jordfell, or anything else, but a god? Such claims were impossible, for the only gods there were were the Hearts.


The arm... The Skald's arm regrew from nothing, in the matter of mere seconds. His jaw dropped in a moment of shock, before he composed himself once more. Yes, he was now certain that this was some sort of demon, a being sent from without to tempt him away from the earth and the mountain with its display of power. There is no way that this is a god, for only the Hearts are gods. They are everything. They are the world! He shook his head angrily, looking back and forth amongst the group. How could they not know?


The crashing ice, the familiar feeling of Jordfell's anger, all of this washed over him immediately afterward as a chunk of ice crashed into the ocean after breaking off. This only cemented his beliefs. Jordfell is angry. We awoke this demon, and it's going to follow us back. Is this how the other islands fell? The roar struck next, turning his blood to ice in his veins. He composed himself as fast as he could, readying his hammer. He looked about, wild-eyed and full of rage, both at the sound and his own perceived stupidity for letting the demon loose.
 
"Heart, give me strength." Wulfgar muttered as he saw the giant regrow an arm. Stop panicking and think. He doesn't want to kill us immediately or he wouldn't have regrown the arm so we aren't in that much danger right now. There's no way we can kill him his size, magic and armor, we should talk to him and understand what he wants.


Before Wulfgar could voice any of his thoughts the ground began rumbling and he had to struggle to stay standing. The sound of the roar echoing from the caverns drove any form of rational thought from his mind and he made a split second, looking to the god and Shinta, running towards the latter at full speed.


Shinta doesn't have a weapon but at least the god might be able to take care of whatever we awoke.
 
It was cold. A simple observation, or the feeling that it should be so. Yet it came from a far off distance, as thunder did from lightning. Yet now it enveloped him, stifling his breath and stealing his sight. Even his body forged over a life of work felt to be another's, unhelpfully remaining silent to his commands in imitation of a corpse's. Nudging the slowing mind, Björn tensed forcing strength back to his limbs and with it, memory. He had charged the great giant...then the light swallowed him utterly. Ah, had he died then in the claws of the monster and departed to the afterworld ahead of his shield brethren?


Regret pulled at Björn's soul with the coming of this thought. Too much could have been averted had he only considered his method of communication. Even so, such regrets were meaningless after his failure. To die in battle did not bother him, but to do so without even aiding the others was agonizing. Björn could almost hear their voices now, although dimly as if speaking through a wall. Had they too then followed him so soon?


No. There was another voice unknown to him there. The words they used evaded him but such was their intensity, indeed as strong as Jordfell's anger, Björn could feel them shake his bones and heart. The heart? If his heart was still beating then he could not truly be a vengeful ghost.


Hooking his feet into whatever purchase was available, Björn heaved backwards tossing off the snow in a great spray. Shaking himself to return warmth, his lungs greedily gulped in the fresh air amidst the blinding white light of day. There, his bow and quiver were not far away. Grabbing them, he darted adjusting eyes to grasp the world in his absence. There was now a being of equal stature to Fritvor staring at the group disdainfully, bearing pillars of iron in his hands. Of hands, somehow Vylkor Fenrir now had two natural hands once more...one not matching the other. Indeed, it was as if his age had fallen off the shoulders joining the hook now by the skald's feet. Wulfgar stood as a mouse before a snake, while Baelin held a fierce countenance leveled upon the new man. Meanwhile the great crystal was gone as the morning mist.


Did something happen to the skald while he was buried in the snow? Before the thought could be pursued further, Jordfell's anger shook even here causing the great ice island to split. Steadying himself, Björn planted his feet apart fitting an arrow to the bow. While not aimed at anyone yet, he was now ready. Enough of this island's trickery.
 
Shinta watched in amazement as the giant regrow her companion's arm back. It was amazing, it was a miracle. He surely was a god and needed no further proof. Not that she had asked for any. He was big, he was strong, he was magical and he surely could kill them all but he didn't. That didn't make him exactly a friend but it at the very least meant he wasn't an enemy at this exact moment or they would have been dead by now.


Her train of through about the giant man was broken by the sudden roar that sent fear down her spine. This fear reminded her of the time she was selected to cook for the festival after she discovered that Quita had accidentally used poisonous ingredients for the grand feast. Not only did she have to remake the feast short notice, but she wasn't orginially picked, the honor had completely belonged to Quita? Was it an insult to the mountain and traditions? Perhaps.


But the priests needed someone to replace her short notice. She feared and she struggled but in the hand she prevailed and her populairty and fame as a cook among her people quickly soared.


Why did that happen though? Because she stood strong and proud against the fear she had and just like that time, she would be a mountain against the roar and slowly begin to regain her composure as she held her self in place.
 
The iceberg shook violently for a brief moment as a large chunk of it broke off. Nomos grabbed both of his swords by the hilt tightly. He cursed under his breath as he raced towards the source. He ran right off the ice and stood tall on the waters surface, a feat quite strange.


The large chunk of Ice began to distort and transform in the water itself in strange shapes and became coated in azure scales. "So, the rage of Chaos has followed." The giant man turned to face the people who found him. Taking both swords into a cross he smashed them together repeatedly making an extreme disorienting noise which echoed outwards from him across the ocean, and suddenly his voice grew loud and powerful.


"You have a choice! Fight with me and Save your family and loved ones from the wrath of chaos. Risk your life for those you care for! Or you can cower in the face of chaos and let all you know parish in ice!" Nomos raised his white sword high into the sky where it began to glow with a strong yellow light. As the light grew a beast of giant proportions eruppted from the water behind him. The creature radiated freight and darkness. The wrath of Feigr. It arched towards Grytt and began a swift swim towards the island, moving through the water like an eel.


sea_wyrm__watch_your_back_by_shunding-d3h6h2e.jpg


​



"Now, Choose!" The bright light around his sword split into many different light beams each aimed towards the heart of those who would choose to fight. To give them strength and power.


End - Prologue - Lográgæti - The Birth of Heroes
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 3 (members: 0, guests: 3)
Back
Top