Day Four of The Odinsleep (Another God Revealed, Hugin and Munin Try Again)
Day Four of the Odinsleep (7:34 am)
With the group safely perched high atop the golden wall overlooking the battlefield, Korbin takes flight. His keen avian eyes survey the field below. Scores of Einherjar clash with the Svartalfar and trolls, neither giving nor asking for quarter. Many of the honored dead are killed in the fighting, although none seem to be alarmed by the depletion in the defenders’ ranks as these dead men will rise from death with the sun. Off in the distance, he spies the horde of Valkyries on the flying steeds sweeping toward the field to collect the souls of the dead. Hundreds of ravens circle above, waiting for a gory feast of entrails and the eyes of those killed. The sensation that he is being watched still prickles the thick ruff of feathers on the back of his neck and he rolls over in midflight and looks up and back. That’s when he sees them. The two massive ravens from the mead house fly overhead watching him with an intense interest. When they notice him noticing them, they drop and begin flying on his left.
“I remember you from last night,” the first begins before the second picks up his unfinished sentence, “I thought we would make our offer once more now that you have had time to think about it more.”
The first caws in agreement, “A place among us, you would have. I remember the joy of taking up my position.”
“A position I think you would enjoy,” the seconds adds, “that of Cunning.”
Grotto eyes the fruit as the group walks through orchard “Perhaps we will get a bushel as a reward for our bodyguard duties.” The scarred dwarf looks out on the battle raging below and feels his war lust rising. He grits his teeth and maintains his composure, hoping that he doesn’t miss out on battle because he is babysitting the goddess.
Arthur draws his sword and readies himself for the worst.
Shadow thanks Raven, “You action most likely saved all of our lives. Let us see what we can determine.” The drow squints his eyes and concentrates, invoking his ability to see magical auras and sweeps his gaze over the damaged armguards. The expected auras of abjuration and transmutation are present and seem to be intact. The cracked and blackened gemstones, however, hold traces of an enchantment aura – most likely a binding spell of some sort but with the damage the jewels have sustained, it is impossible for the dark elf to determine exactly what their purpose was without a further examination.
Ra’ziir adds “We will need to study the device, as you know. If time permits during the day, I would be surprised but certainly this evening should afford us the opportunity to investigate the potential of re-enchanting such a valuable tool. “
Raven nods in understand, “At least we are up here above the fighting rather than down in the melee. I can rely on my bow if I need to.”
Kysek joins group atop wall. He whistles, summoning Bubo. “I know it is light and you’d rather rest but I feel I need more information in regards to the cabin out there. Once we’re done you are free to roost in the goddess’ apple trees the remainder of our day here.” The owl takes to the air and flies out high above the clashing armies and the fjord’s crystalline blue waters before dropping toward the cabin. As the owl draws near, Kysek opens his mind to the owl, strengthening their link and peering through the bird’s eyes. The bright searing light of the rising sun greets him and his head swims momentarily. He fights through his discomfort and gives the island a closer look. On the fire side of the cabin, a tall shirtless and barefoot man with a shortly cropped beard stands ankle deep in the water. He holds a trident casually in his left hand and is speaking with a half-dozen, no, seven young maidens. The young women are gathering buckets of water and carrying them over to a large cast iron cauldron while a matronly woman begins striking flint to steel to start a fire.
Niklas watches Kysek and Bubo and thinks that one day he too, would have an animal companion to serve him as the elf has the owl. Meanwhile, he focuses on the fighting below. Desmond watches along with him. The battle rages back and forth, seemingly without any sort of organization, at least not on the level of individual combatants but as a wider picture emerges, it seems that the ogres and trolls are slowly falling back in different places along the line. The Einherjar, mad with battle frenzy give chase and are slowly being drawn out to expose their flanks to other attackers who cut them down from the side.
Cedron tries to shake the intoxicating touch of the goddess, “Remember thou art mortal,” he reminds himself before gritting his teeth and concentrating on the task at hand. “In your infinite experience, milady, where do you perceive the greatest threat to our safety?”
“Everything revolves around Loki,” she replies, “He is mad but not without reason. Nothing he does is what it appears to be. You may find yourself thwarting what you think is one plot only to later learn that stopping one part of his plan was but a ruse to allow his overarching goals to be reached. He is dangerous beyond reckoning and hungry, always hungry, for more power.”
The goddess raises her free hand and gestures idly with her fingers and thick vines burst from the ground to enwrap and immobilize a squad of svartalfar and their horses. The nearby berserkers fall upon the cavalry with a fury and cut them down without mercy.
With the group safely perched high atop the golden wall overlooking the battlefield, Korbin takes flight. His keen avian eyes survey the field below. Scores of Einherjar clash with the Svartalfar and trolls, neither giving nor asking for quarter. Many of the honored dead are killed in the fighting, although none seem to be alarmed by the depletion in the defenders’ ranks as these dead men will rise from death with the sun. Off in the distance, he spies the horde of Valkyries on the flying steeds sweeping toward the field to collect the souls of the dead. Hundreds of ravens circle above, waiting for a gory feast of entrails and the eyes of those killed. The sensation that he is being watched still prickles the thick ruff of feathers on the back of his neck and he rolls over in midflight and looks up and back. That’s when he sees them. The two massive ravens from the mead house fly overhead watching him with an intense interest. When they notice him noticing them, they drop and begin flying on his left.
“I remember you from last night,” the first begins before the second picks up his unfinished sentence, “I thought we would make our offer once more now that you have had time to think about it more.”
The first caws in agreement, “A place among us, you would have. I remember the joy of taking up my position.”
“A position I think you would enjoy,” the seconds adds, “that of Cunning.”
Grotto eyes the fruit as the group walks through orchard “Perhaps we will get a bushel as a reward for our bodyguard duties.” The scarred dwarf looks out on the battle raging below and feels his war lust rising. He grits his teeth and maintains his composure, hoping that he doesn’t miss out on battle because he is babysitting the goddess.
Arthur draws his sword and readies himself for the worst.
Shadow thanks Raven, “You action most likely saved all of our lives. Let us see what we can determine.” The drow squints his eyes and concentrates, invoking his ability to see magical auras and sweeps his gaze over the damaged armguards. The expected auras of abjuration and transmutation are present and seem to be intact. The cracked and blackened gemstones, however, hold traces of an enchantment aura – most likely a binding spell of some sort but with the damage the jewels have sustained, it is impossible for the dark elf to determine exactly what their purpose was without a further examination.
Ra’ziir adds “We will need to study the device, as you know. If time permits during the day, I would be surprised but certainly this evening should afford us the opportunity to investigate the potential of re-enchanting such a valuable tool. “
Raven nods in understand, “At least we are up here above the fighting rather than down in the melee. I can rely on my bow if I need to.”
Kysek joins group atop wall. He whistles, summoning Bubo. “I know it is light and you’d rather rest but I feel I need more information in regards to the cabin out there. Once we’re done you are free to roost in the goddess’ apple trees the remainder of our day here.” The owl takes to the air and flies out high above the clashing armies and the fjord’s crystalline blue waters before dropping toward the cabin. As the owl draws near, Kysek opens his mind to the owl, strengthening their link and peering through the bird’s eyes. The bright searing light of the rising sun greets him and his head swims momentarily. He fights through his discomfort and gives the island a closer look. On the fire side of the cabin, a tall shirtless and barefoot man with a shortly cropped beard stands ankle deep in the water. He holds a trident casually in his left hand and is speaking with a half-dozen, no, seven young maidens. The young women are gathering buckets of water and carrying them over to a large cast iron cauldron while a matronly woman begins striking flint to steel to start a fire.
Niklas watches Kysek and Bubo and thinks that one day he too, would have an animal companion to serve him as the elf has the owl. Meanwhile, he focuses on the fighting below. Desmond watches along with him. The battle rages back and forth, seemingly without any sort of organization, at least not on the level of individual combatants but as a wider picture emerges, it seems that the ogres and trolls are slowly falling back in different places along the line. The Einherjar, mad with battle frenzy give chase and are slowly being drawn out to expose their flanks to other attackers who cut them down from the side.
Cedron tries to shake the intoxicating touch of the goddess, “Remember thou art mortal,” he reminds himself before gritting his teeth and concentrating on the task at hand. “In your infinite experience, milady, where do you perceive the greatest threat to our safety?”
“Everything revolves around Loki,” she replies, “He is mad but not without reason. Nothing he does is what it appears to be. You may find yourself thwarting what you think is one plot only to later learn that stopping one part of his plan was but a ruse to allow his overarching goals to be reached. He is dangerous beyond reckoning and hungry, always hungry, for more power.”
The goddess raises her free hand and gestures idly with her fingers and thick vines burst from the ground to enwrap and immobilize a squad of svartalfar and their horses. The nearby berserkers fall upon the cavalry with a fury and cut them down without mercy.
Comments
Post a Comment