[ORP] Mist And Shadow

[Rohnar]

This part of the story takes place in a world outside our own.

Snow flew about on strong gusts of wind, stirring up the branches and throwing Rohnar's hair into disarray. The helmet under his arm was forgotten for the moment as he gazed at the white capped peaks before him, valleys filled with barren trees and frigid streams of ice clogged water. A slight chill crept under the bearskin cloak his shoulders but it only serve to remind him of his purpose there.

Very well then, I shall seek thee out...monster.

The troll had been terrorizing the countryside, snatching up folk and devouring children, setting fire to barns and mutilating cattle. Rohnar had been sent after the monster by his father as he was the largest, fastest and strongest of his brothers. Along with a horse he was sent along with a treasured war hammer that belonged to his father's ,father's father who had been rumored to have stolen it from a dragon’s hoard. It was said to have magical powers, to create storms and cast bolts of lightning. But above all it was said to have given whoever wielded it, the gift of flight. Rumors all of them, it is but a weapon, a tool, and I am the craftsman set to do his work, thought Rohnar. The troll would die.


Edit: ORP now, any and all welcome.

[Rohnar]

The iron shod hooves of his horse tread carefully across the frozen lake, the ice seemed thick enough to hold them but Rohnar was ready to dismount should it prove too thin. There had been a set of large tracks showing the telltale signs of a troll, blundering and heavy set, which is partly why he felt safe riding his horse over the ice. Rohnar placed his hand on the hammer hanging at his side and took comfort in the knowledge of it's power and his skill in wielding it. He turned his eyes towards the sky and stared at the place where the Sun tried to break through the clouds and heavy mist that constantly shrouded this world. Reaching down he patted his horse's neck. Fear not girl, soon we'll be back in...

As soon as he spoke Rohnar saw the troll push itself out of a snow bank it had hidden and raised a massive club over its head, though being far out of reach he could not think it intended to strike him. Instead the creature began slamming the club down onto the ice over and over, smashing and crunching till a large crack started to appear. Rohnar gritted his teeth and set his heels into the horse and the shot forwards, hopefully fast enough to avoid falling into the frigid waters below their feet and the certain death that followed. The mare's hooves struggled to find good footing on the ice as they hurried forwards, the sound of crunching and cracking ice grew louder as they drew closer to the troll and Rohnar was not sure they would make it but he pushed ahead. Cracks now ran underneath him and soon this whole area would fall apart and sink into the water so he climbed from the saddle and stood on it, holding the reins in one hand, his hammer in the other, and leaped from the horse's back towards the troll. He raised the hammer high over his head and brought it down with a mighty crash. The impact shook him to his core and he saw a blue light emanating from deep within the weapon, lightning crashed all around him, thunder came in deafening rolls. Then all went black.

[Rohnar]

What should we do with him?
He was supposed to be hunting a troll.
I know what he was doing sister, but what now?
Leave him? He is not our responsibility, let the Fates have him.
Why not send him down? He could be tested, learn to use the weapon as it should be used.
Yes, then we can cease watching over him. Good send him down my sister.


________________________________


Blackness. Nothing but the darkest void surrounded Rohnar.

Then the brightest light flashed across the sky. He seemed to fly, to float through the air as one would in a dream. His fingers trailed through the colors of a large rainbow, stretching over the sky and into an immense field of stars. His gaze was fixed and would not move though he had no reason to look about, he still felt like this was a dream and so like in a dream he let himself be carried away without worry.

At long last he woke in a clearing surrounded my the tallest trees he had ever seen. The ground was covered in grass a shade of green as deep as he had ever seen. The sky above him was bright and filled with stars, the horizon was still cloaked in clouds but they were fleeing to the west and soon were gone. Where am I?, he thought, and called out, Hello?! But his only reply was the echo reverberating from across the meadow.

Weariness overcame him and once again he slipped back into a slumber, this time induced by his own exhaustion and the will of a goddess. Again, as Rohnar closed his eyes he thought, Where am I?

[Rohnar]

When he next woke it was daylight, the Sun shone brightly upon him, and judging by the position, he guessed it was late afternoon or thereabouts. Rohnar rubbed his eyes and shook his head, this place did not seem too bad though many a time had a warrior been tricked into thinking he was safe or out of danger only to be set upon by his enemies. His hand reached out for his hammer but it was gone, in a panic he scrambled to his feet but staggered as he had risen too quickly. The weapon was nowhere in sight and there were no tracks through the grass that might suggest someone had been here and stole it and adding to his confusion most of his armor was gone as well, torn and ragged he looked like he had been chewed up and spit out by some great worm. Perhaps it was the troll who did this, he thought.

There was only part of his shirt left, his cloak gone, helmet and chainmaile gone, some of his trousers were also destroyed but fortunately he was decently covered. Rohnar made it to the edge of the meadow and look at the bark on the trees then began to walk north hoping he would find a town or village that could help him.

The smoke from a fire rose lazily into the sky and then once above the tee tops it was caught by the wind. The scent of burning wood tinged with food caught his scent, reminding him how hungry he was, and he set off in that direction to follow his nose. Through the forest and a cluster of ferns that grew so high he had to wade through them like a river Rohnar marched, intent on finding whatever was cooking that smelled so good. Rohnar finally came upon a small cottage with a garden a few animals roaming about grazing, he had to stop himself from hunting one down right then and there, but instead came to the door and knocked. At least he tried to just tap the door but his fist struck the door and a thunderous boom echoed out, did he not know his own strength? He called out to whoever was inside, Heilsa? Hverr staddr? Sjá þessi Rohnar Magnusson, hníga sási dyrr!*

By the gods...he could not speak his own language anymore. Quickly he clasped a hand over his mouth, then tried another word. Kveðja.* What had they done to him?




*Hello? Who is here? I am Rohnar Vulgnarsson, open this door! *Greetings.

Anyone is welcome to be the owner of the door I am knocking on, feel free to post!

Edited to change father's name.

[Miss Malan]

Lost in the middle of a great saga from the ancient times she was studying Malan had completely forgotten about the troll toes soup she was making. The recipe involved boiled potatoes and eggs and not troll toes in case you were wondering. She only remembered when it started to boil over because the water made a hissing sound when it spattered onto the hot metal of the stove. With a small cry she jumped up knocking over her chair and went to rescue her dinner. She was busy cleaning up the mess when there was a thunderous knocking at the door. It sounded as though someone was trying to break the door down with their fists. My goodness, who could that be? I didn't think there were any giants left. she thought.

A voice spoke through the door in a language she did not understand; though after a moment's thought she realized that it reminded her of the language of the great sagas that she was trying to learn (she had only read it, never heard it spoken).

A trifle nervously she went to the door and opened it a crack. 'Wh who's there?'

She saw a tall strong looking man. He was in rags and very disheveled but despite that it was obvious that he was a warrior of some kind.

'Can I help you?'

She could see the man needed help but since she lived alone she was nervous about opening her door to him.

[Rohnar]

Sorry for the delay, storms are not fun!

The nervousness in the woman's voice made Rohnar think she either lived alone or her husband was out of the house and not nearby, if he was nearby Rohnar hoped there would be no fight as to why this man was at his door. Sjá þessi Rohnar*, he emphasized by pointing to himself, forgetting that for some reason he was unable to speak properly. Perhaps he had been hexed by a witch, it would explain why he could understand and not speak. Ingen konflikt...No konflikt.* He waved his hands to show he meant no harm then showed her his palms as a sign of peace, a gesture to show he carried no weapon. It was possible to hide a dagger under the remnants of his clothes but he had none, though he suspected the lady might and if frightened not hesitate to use it. When he moved his hands it felt like they moved too quickly, like his limbs had moved faster than he wanted without him trying to. Come to think of it he did not know how far he had walked but the land was different here, the air too, how far had he gone?

Rohnar suddenly felt very thirsty. It was as if his throat had been parched for weeks. Vaten*. His vision went in and our of focus, the woman's face became a distant figure even though she stood near to him. vaten... Rohnar lurched forward onto his knees, leaving two large impressions in the earth, one hand went to steady himself but instead it fell out from under him and he collapsed onto the ground at the maiden's feet.







*I am Rohnar.
*No harm No harm.
*Water. water...

[Miss Malan]

The man kept saying vaten over and over. The word sounded vaguely familiar. Then the man collapsed and looked as though he was about to faint. Malan might be nervous about letting a strange warrior into her home, but she knew she simply could not leave him outside now. Scolding herself for letting him stand there so long when he obviously needed help she bent down, put one of his arms over her shoulder and half supported-half dragged him into the house. He was quite heavy so she only just managed to get him over to the couch. She sat him down and looked at his face. He was pale but did not seem to have a fever. Remembering the advice of her adoptive aunt she quickly made him a cup of hot sweet tea. At the last moment she added a bit of brandy to the cup hoping that would help to revive him. While she was in the kitchen she grabbed one of her sharpest kitchen knives and kept it close, just in case.

She brought him the tea and sat down in the chair opposite. 'Alright, now you can tell me who you are. If you are a bandit let me make it quite clear that there is nothing valuable in this house. And I know how to use a knife.'

She wondered if he would understand her since he had not spoken a word of any Secfenian language she knew yet. There was something about him ... her magic wooden amulet (which she had gotten from Adonair) tingled which suggested he came from a magical place or was magic.

[Rohnar]

Rohnar opened his eyes and shook his head in an effort to improve the clarity of his vision though the action helped little and only increased the pain in his head from when he had fallen. This had never happened before, not once in his homeland had he ever felt such burning thirst, such blinding pain. This new world was as dangerous a world as his own, though he had not seen any enemies. No one had attacked with any weapon he knew...but then again, a spell can be a weapon. Witches and warlocks and harm with but a whisper and do damage far worse than any spear.

Reaching up to his neck he found the hammer charm that had brought him courage many a time, and should protect him from any witchcraft. Though if his gods could hear him now or not Rohnar did not know. He only hoped it's magic was greater than whatever had befallen him. Neinn! Neinn! Vætr eiga fá.* His eyes cast about the room but did not see anything he thought a witch would have in her home. Certainly no shrunken heads. Rohnar slowly took the steaming cup from off of the table. It smelled sweet and unlike what he thought an evil potion might smell like. The first sip was like a warm river flowing through him, it tasted so good he tilted the cup back and drained it all. Wiping his hand across his mouth he went to dry it on the rags around his leg but noticed the liquid turn the fabric a darker color. Like ink.

Ymirben!* He exclaimed and held out the cup and pointed to it, gesturing he wanted more in the hopes that the woman could understand what he wanted rather try and glean from his foreign language that he needed another drink. Any kind would suffice for he was not going to drink it, but write with it.

*No! No! I will take nothing.
Ymir's bones!

[Miss Malan]

The tea seemed to revive him. Malan saw that he wanted more and went to make another cup. While she was in the kitchen she saw the pot of soup she had taken off the stove. He was probably hungry too. She ladled a bit into a bowl for him. She put the the soup and the tea down on the table in front of him. Her eye was caught by the charm he wore around his neck. It reminded her of something but she wasn't quite sure what. She was sure she had seen a picture of it recently. She reached out to take it in her hand so she could have a better look.

[Rohnar]

Rohnar watched with eager eyes as she brewed and poured the drink, he had had a drink similar to it before, one made from herbs but it had been so long since he had it, or even seen the woman who brewed it the taste was unusual to him. She also filled a bowl of some kind of stew for him but it was of little interest to him now however hungry he was, he was more interested in the drink.

As she handed it too him he took it quickly and dipped his fingers in it, Rohnar was so preoccupied with the prospect of writing out what he was trying to say he had not noticed the small hand reach out and take hold of his amulet. Examining it and no doubt trying to figue out what it was of or whom it was for. Hamarr vita Þórr. He said quickly before remembering that he had to write it down. His finger moved across the table, spreading a thin layer of liquid in the form of letters that he was sure she could read. They read, Hammer of Thor. He waited a moment so she could read it then wiped the area clean and wrote again. That is my god.