Day Five of the Odinsleep (An Interview Concluded)
Day Five of the Odinsleep (Nearly 2 am, 5 hours until sunrise)
“I recall the philosophies of the sage, Zeno, but what you describe is wholly different. With what you can remember of this being, it there anything one might do to gain even the briefest of advantages? And how might I reach this plane. Is it like the others in how it might be accessed?”
Hárbarðr shakes his head. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing. A creature of this magnitude would lay waste to you and all of your companions in short order were you to try bearding it in its lair. It is a Prince of Time and it would be surrounded by a retinue of creatures much like itself. Time is an unbeatable enemy. Summoning it MAY give you a slim chance of surviving long enough to bind it but even then, the possibility of you or your allies being aged either to death or into preconception would remain.”
Saga adds, “My Father is correct. You must decide if the power of this bracer is worth the risk you would be placing upon all of your companions.”
Ra’ziir nods, “Your wisdom is greatly appreciated. I suspected that the price of re-enchanting the device might be more than my companions and I are willing to pay and it seems I was correct.” The bladsinger offers his hand in gratitude, first to Saga and then to her father, “If there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, you have but to ask.”
The elf-emental retraces his steps back to the homestead of Völundr. Upon arrival, he discovers that nearly all of his companions, save Kysek, are asleep or in a state of Reverie. He tells his elven companion about his meeting with Saga and her father, explaining what he has learned.
Across town, Korbin continues to sit upon the windowsill, watching the dwarves at work inside the store. One of the dwarves notices him, curses, spits on the floor and makes a gesture that the crow can only assume is meant to ward against bad luck. His brother dwarves point and laugh, calling him superstitious and accusing him of believing in Old Wives’ Tales. The dwarf growls back, claiming that crows and ravens are servants of Odin and the Valkyries and that he would be much more comfortable if he didn’t have one staring at him through the window. The next dwarf shakes his head, dips a ladle in a pot of stew and spoons out a bowl’s worth before crossing the room and opening the window. “Eat well, Little One. Big day starting soon. Going to need yer stren’th.”
“I recall the philosophies of the sage, Zeno, but what you describe is wholly different. With what you can remember of this being, it there anything one might do to gain even the briefest of advantages? And how might I reach this plane. Is it like the others in how it might be accessed?”
Hárbarðr shakes his head. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing. A creature of this magnitude would lay waste to you and all of your companions in short order were you to try bearding it in its lair. It is a Prince of Time and it would be surrounded by a retinue of creatures much like itself. Time is an unbeatable enemy. Summoning it MAY give you a slim chance of surviving long enough to bind it but even then, the possibility of you or your allies being aged either to death or into preconception would remain.”
Saga adds, “My Father is correct. You must decide if the power of this bracer is worth the risk you would be placing upon all of your companions.”
Ra’ziir nods, “Your wisdom is greatly appreciated. I suspected that the price of re-enchanting the device might be more than my companions and I are willing to pay and it seems I was correct.” The bladsinger offers his hand in gratitude, first to Saga and then to her father, “If there is anything I can do to repay your kindness, you have but to ask.”
The elf-emental retraces his steps back to the homestead of Völundr. Upon arrival, he discovers that nearly all of his companions, save Kysek, are asleep or in a state of Reverie. He tells his elven companion about his meeting with Saga and her father, explaining what he has learned.
Across town, Korbin continues to sit upon the windowsill, watching the dwarves at work inside the store. One of the dwarves notices him, curses, spits on the floor and makes a gesture that the crow can only assume is meant to ward against bad luck. His brother dwarves point and laugh, calling him superstitious and accusing him of believing in Old Wives’ Tales. The dwarf growls back, claiming that crows and ravens are servants of Odin and the Valkyries and that he would be much more comfortable if he didn’t have one staring at him through the window. The next dwarf shakes his head, dips a ladle in a pot of stew and spoons out a bowl’s worth before crossing the room and opening the window. “Eat well, Little One. Big day starting soon. Going to need yer stren’th.”
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