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Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul laughs as Smough gets possessive with his liquor. “Fair enough, Smough. What’s yours is yours.”

He grimaces slightly at the accusations Raia is throwing around. “Me? My primary goal is to find a way to bring my family back. In order to do that, I need to defeat the Father and get our companion back so we can get the hell out of here. I told Shadow when I first met him that I wanted out, and that hasn’t changed.” He turns to Karnariel. “I’m sorry if I pissed you off, or made you piss yourself when I blew up your moon. I assumed, wrongly of course, that the magic that brought back the fallen soldiers was tied to it directly, and wanted to help you by evening the odds. I tried to take a shortcut, and it backfired. My bad.”

Gaul takes a deep breath. “Valkyrie, Kara, whatever her name is, has been oppressing Viking culture in this land. As the king of the Viking gods, you can see why I’d be more than a little upset about that.” Another deep breath.

“My plan for Valkyrie cannot be revealed. I have seen the path forward, but if I tell any of you it will fall apart. Karnariel, if you wish to try to stop your sister first, be my guest. If you fail, I will insure that you live, step in, and finish the job. I can offer you no better deal.” He folds his arms across his chest, exhales forcefully through his nose, and turns to Flame.

“I promised your brother that I would help you get your power under control,” he begins softly. “Once my business with Valkyrie is concluded, I will fulfill that promise. For now, do me a favor and stay out of too much trouble?”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul shifts forward in his seat. A barrel of booze with trenchberries? What kind of deal did they just make? He had noticed bits of the pirate code flying back and forth, but hadn't been paying enough attention to keep track of the conversation. He'd been mulling over the prospect of Valkyrie.

"I'm glad that the efforts of Flame, Blaze, and myself have been noticed. The bloodmen were an...interesting diversion from our objective, but they were handled easily enough. I killed their chieftain with my own hands, so I'm fairly certain that they'll be more amenable to my influence if they are anything like the early ancestors of my people." Gaul leans back slightly in his chair, and continues.

"Valkyrie is my problem to deal with. Leave her to me." He gestures pointedly in the direction of Blaze and Flame. "These two should go with whomever this Council decides will head for the mainland to investigate the Commander. Sia, I believe, is rather fixated on staying with Rider, and should continue to do so for the time being." He turns to each of the group one by one, "That is, of course, if you all agree with me. Especially you, Lexianna. You are our leader, after all."

Gaul stands up and takes a quick glance around the table. "Now I believe there's been some alcohol passed across this table. What are we waiting for?"

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul strides into the room wearing fresh clothes for once: a white tunic, gray cloth slacks, and newly-shined black boots. He had considered wearing his crown, but thought it would be too gaudy for the occasion. He takes the seat between Flame and Smough, doing his best to fit in the chair with his massive frame.

He had given his word as a king to help and protect Flame, and the thoughts of where to start had not left his mind since. Today’s meeting would either be a welcome distraction, or an absolute shitshow. Either way, he makes himself as comfortable as possible, and awaits the fireworks.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul stands slowly, a little stiff from the sitting position he had adopted.

“I am Gaul Giantsbane, Last King of the Aesir, Ruler of Asgard, Warden of the Nine Realms.” As he speaks, his mind mulls over their conversation, thinking of ways to tackle the problem before them. He isn’t sure what formal custom Blaze is invoking, but he trusts the fox king.

Unknown Land

A full moon casts gloomy light over a large mead hall in a frost-covered forest of dead trees. Standing in the half-opened doorway is a bare-chested man who seems to cast his own corona of light upon his surroundings. He shuts the door and meanders back inside, stopping to cast a half-interested glance at a strange throne set in the center of the feasting hall. He runs his hand over the furs draped over the seat, half of them the harsh white of the winter wolf and the other half as black as midnight. From the darkness at the edge of the room, a female voice rings out.

“I see you’ve made your way back here. After you rejected my generous offer I did not expect you to return. And yet...here you are.” The voice is like dusky velvet scraping across gravel, a perfect representation of who she is. She steps from the shadows and traces a long, gnarled fingernail across the man’s collarbone. “What are you doing here, Baldur? I have not the patience for your silence.”

Baldur seems to find his voice. “I am here to plead with you for the release of my wife.” Before she can refuse, he speaks again, “I offer myself in her place. Simply release her, and I am yours.”

She pulls back the cowl that covers her face to reveal the terrible visage beneath. Her face is divided right down the center, one side a grotesque skull with bits of rotting and dried flesh clinging to the bone, and the other is the vibrant face of a young woman, as beautiful as the other is revolting. Hel, Goddess of Death, smiles.

“So you wish to bargain with me? How quaint.” She spreads her mummified hand across Baldur’s chest. “You did not like my offer to spend eternity together, presiding over the souls of those killed in Ragnarok. Why the sudden change of heart? Do you think that the act of freeing your dead wife from her eternal slumber to walk in the land of the living, far from my halls, would somehow quell the trepidation you feel regarding marrying the Queen of the Damned?” She cackles. “I told you before that your vows were broken the second you crossed into Helheim, null and void. Til death do us part is quite a literal term of the contract. You died, Ragnarok came for the Aesir, and I offered you everything. You turned your nose up at me, no doubt in the hopes that the two of you would be reunited here.”

A deafening silence falls upon the hall. After a long moment, Hel speaks again.

“I will grant your wish, but only after our vows are consumated. It would not do for you to back out of your end of our bargain.” She strides to her throne, and gracefully sits upon it. “Do you find these terms agreeable, favored son of Odin?”

Baldur, to his credit, does not hesitate. “I do.”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul sees what Blaze isn’t saying. “You fear it,” he states plainly. “Which is, of course, understandable. Its power is beyond denial. I only have one more question: has anyone ever mastered it, or do you honestly believe such a thing to be impossible? If it is possible, I could potentially help her. The process would be...experimental, to say the least, but I believe that I am uniquely suited to handle it.” He clenches his fist tightly, and activates his seals. When he opens his hand, a small field of null energy levitates above his palm.

“My seals have the power to negate all forms of energy. I could create one of these,” he nods toward the sphere “large enough to encompass the spirit. It would be unable to harm anything and allow Flame ample time to reassert control over her body. Again, I’m not sure it will work, but we could try.”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul sits patiently on a nearby barrel while Blaze stretches out across the floor, and waits for him to get comfortable. Once asked, he jumps right into it.

“What was that giant fox spirit back there at the mountain? Putting two and two together, it would have to be either you or your sister, but what exactly was it?” He pauses briefly, then continues. “It seems to be a rather powerful ability, but it was uncontrolled. Raw. Primal, even. Could it be controlled, or is it always like that?”

He sighs. He knows how he sounds. “I’m not being judgmental, nor am I upset about it. I’m merely asking if I should be concerned, or if it’s nothing to worry about. We’re heading into likely hostile territory, on a plane we understand very little about. Hopefully the angel has discovered more than we have. Now that I have my full abilities again, I have the utmost confidence that we will prevail...whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing here, anyway. One king to another, I hope that you trust me as you trust your other companions. If I’m out of line, or ever cross a boundary with you, please let me know. I wish only to be useful to the group, not a hindrance.”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul looks around after Smough and Flame jump into the sea, his mood temporarily lightened by Flame’s childlike enthusiasm. He turns to Blaze, and asks him to meet belowdecks before striding toward the staircase. He turns before he descends, and calls out in a booming, commanding voice.

“Any of you who once called yourselves Viking should never be ashamed or afraid of who you are as long as you stand with me. Wear your tattoos with pride, and put your faith in me to see you through. I shall not let anyone or anything stand against MY people while I still draw breath, including the Lords of this realm.” Gaul pauses briefly. “You have a god at your side. No more hiding.”

He turns and strides downstairs, hoping to speak to Blaze in private.

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul gives Smough a very somber look, and says that he does understand. He then repeats the wordy ritual of the bloodstones in hopes that it’s the same for the gems. Luckily, it is.

The first thing he notices is the return of the Sight as he catches a brief glimpse of himself at the meeting, but he quickly disconnects from the Stream of Fate and stretches his limbs. They are no longer sore.

Gaul, reinvigorated, looks to the Admiral once again. “Let’s go to your meeting, then.”

Eternal Realities: Umbra

Gaul smiles a tired smile, and says one word, “Wyrd.” Anyone with even a modicum of understanding would know that wyrd means fate, but that fate itself has been classified as many things. Magic. Destiny. Luck. Willpower. Time. Life. Death. The possibilities of just this one word are almost incalculable.

“Do we have a deal?” Gaul asks once again.

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?”