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Eternal Realities: Umbra

Almost as if on cue, Blaze and Flame arrive on deck. Gaul is shocked to hear Flame’s voice in his mind, to the point he that’s he almost doesn’t respond. Just before the connection is severed, he shoots back a message of his own.

Hold on to that one for now. It may prove useful later.

During this exchange, Gaul finishes his smoke and snuffs it out in a nearby mop bucket. He seems to be mulling around in his head for a starting point to his tale. After a long pause, he speaks.

“I was born on a planet called Earth, or, in the language of my people, Midgard. My father raised me by himself, and I was told my mother died during childbirth. On the day of my eighteenth birthday, my home was attacked by a frost giant and his pet bear. I survived, but my father did not.”

He pauses again, searching for the correct words to use. “My mother showed up after that. Turns out, her name is Thrud, and she’s the daughter of Thor himself. From that point, I spent the last ten years learning of my true heritage, and my place in the grand scheme of it all, only to have my entire family die mere days ago in the battle at the end of it all. I am the sole survivor of Ragnarok.”

Gaul strides toward Smough, his bag in hand. “I, Gaul, King of Asgard and last of the Aesir, gods of the Viking people, hereby beseech you and your crew to aid me and my companions in our journey.” Gaul reaches into the bag and pulls out a hammer. “Other than this hammer, I offer all of the artifacts of my people as payment, both for the gem you hold and your assistance.”

He holds out his hand. “What say you, Admiral?”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

At the mention of a deal, Gaul raises an eyebrow of his own. He reaches into the front pocket of his pants and pulls out a mostly-crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He fishes out the last one from the pack, lights it, and takes a deep drag.

“Been saving this one for a special occasion,” he says gesturing towards the the cigarette. “Didn’t know how long it would be until I get more.” Gaul places the lighter back in his pocket, runs a hand through his hair, and exhales a cloud of pungent smoke. He seems at a loss for words for a moment, then sighs deeply and points toward the deck.

“Could you fetch the foxes? I kind of need to tell this story, but I don’t want to have to repeat it.” He then unties the sack from around his waist, pulls out his shirt, and finally puts it back on. For the brief moment that it is open, anyone looking at the bag can see that it is full of glinting gold, silver, and jewels. Far more full than any bag that size has a right to be.

The large man leans against the railing of the deck, takes another drag, and waits for his companions to arrive.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul breathes a rare sigh of relief. “Thanks for the jacket, Smough. I am in no shape to fight her. Maybe if I still had a bloodstone, but I was sharing with Sia, who you just met.” He pauses a moment. “Maybe then I could wield the power I had when I took out your moon.”

Realizing he’s said too much, Gaul clamps his jaw shut and tosses the jacket back to the pirate. He begins to walk away, when an idea strikes him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any spare bloodstones laying around, would you?”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul catches the small jar of makeup, and looks down at his “tattoos”. None of these had existed before he was given seals, and he’d never really stopped to look at them. Jormungandr, the World Serpent, winds in and out of a sea of tribal markings that seem to shift and move as the eye runs across them. He removes the lid and smears the makeup over his left forearm. As Gaul goes to take more from the jar, however, a searing sensation and loud hissing emanate from the area he just covered.

Within the blink of an eye, the makeup that had covered his arm is gone. Gaul stares down at it, knowing that either this tattoo is cursed, or his ancestors refuse to allow him to hide who he is.

Either way, he’s fucked.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul stands up and stretches at this point, the grime of combat covering his body having been absorbed by Flame. That’s a useful ability, he thinks to himself as he strides in front of Rider and Sia.

“A storm is brewing in the direction of West Point by sea, so you’ll have to teleport your people in order to get there safely.” He nods in the direction of Blaze and Flame, “We’ll stay on the ship and head towards our companion. Sia, obviously, is free to do whatever she likes.” He pauses briefly, and turns to the Admiral.

“As far as payment goes, I’ve spent a large portion of my life at sea. I am willing to do whatever job you deem necessary to clear our debt. In return, I’d appreciate it if you’d allow my smaller friends here to rest. They’ve earned it.”

Gaul then takes a good look at the crew, smiles, and says “They’re no Vikings, but I suppose they’re passable sailors...in a pinch. Your orders, Admiral?”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul has no sooner finished burning the spinal cord with the torch when the Mountain explodes, a giant paw reaching to the sky and crashing down upon the stone. He curses vehemently and poetically in the language of the Aesir, and prepares to fight once again.

Suddenly, a disembodied robotic voice cuts through the destruction. Targets retrieved, rendezvous on pirate ships at mountain base, water side. Blaze. Gaul takes a two-step running start, and leaps up and over the entire mountain.

Everything but his head covered in blood, and shaking from adrenaline loss, Gaul lands on the rocky shoreline next to the ship his companions are on. He calmly walks onboard, sits against the railing next to the foxes and the strange pirate doctor, and says simply,”Sorry I’m late.”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Between the sound of his heart jackhammering his eardrums and the howling rage whirling in his brain, Gaul can barely hear the racket that this mountain of dead flesh is emitting. It is, however, enough to slow his movement by a fraction, which just serves to piss him off more.

He jumps backwards, placing about twenty feet of distance between them, and slashes downward with all of the force he can muster. A razor-sharp sheet of ice instantaneously erupts in front of him, fifteen feet tall and forty feet long, dividing the titan in half vertically. Gaul swings again, and does the same in a 180 degree horizontal arc that shatters the first sheet into shrapnel-like shards of ice that explode in a wide cone for about one hundred and fifty feet, shredding every inch of the monstrosity and sending chunks of flesh and viscera flying all over the mountain. When the red mist clears, it’s clear that both man and monster have been reduced to nothing but a massive crimson stain on the face of the planet.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

A deep, guttural, feral roar erupts from Gaul’s throat, not unlike the roar that echoes from the dire polar bear that stands beside him. Man and beast slam full force into the corpse Titan, clawing and slashing at the tangle of bone and flesh. Gaul jumps back and away from the colossus, then directly up into the air. He swings his axe with all of the strength in his raging body, and spins like a saw blade as he comes down directly on top of the abomination. Blood and viscera tear away from Ghuul and splatter the entire mountain with gore.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

The more men he kills, the stronger Gaul becomes. The more blood fills the air, the more corporeal the bear becomes. Man and beast rampage across the battlefield in an unstoppable tide of destruction and chaos, never tiring or slowing down. They’re nearing the top of the mountain, and nothing can stop them.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul calmly gets down from Blaze’s back and walks to the watchtower that Flamr just cleared out. As the barbarians begin to swarm towards them, he picks up a rifle from one of the dead snipers and quickly aims it up the hill. He sees a man snarling at what appear to be his subordinates and quickly placed him square in the sights. He squeezes the trigger and drops the rifle, drawing his axe in the same fluid motion. As he spins his axe, a thick fog begins to roll toward the front lines.

“Blaze! Flame! Your superior senses and technology should make this fog trivial to you. These guys won’t have any such luck.”

With that said, Gaul leaps from the top of the tower and lands in the center of a large group of hostiles. He snarls, and his facial features shift to a much more feral visage. He can feel the spirit of the berserker flow from his axe into his body, and the spectral form of a dire polar bear swirls out of the fog into reality.

He bounds through the sea of enemies, every swing of his mighty axe dropping five or more men. Pretty soon, he’s at the top of the wall, the fog emanating from Gatecrasher has covered the whole mountain, and he’s covered in blood that is not his own.