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O L D F R I E N D S
O L D F R I E N D S
FIVE YEARS AGO // NORTHERN TERRITORIES // CANADA
Thor sighed as he resigned himself to go find his axe, while he told himself he had warned the trolls. There had been no choice.
Once the Trolls had been dealt with, Screwbeard had been more than willing to co-operate. Melting down the weapons the trolls had been using them, cleaning and purifying the metal. This had been the relatively simple part of the job. Thor had his connections on Midgard, and he always kept on the look out for anything that could possibly be Asgardian in nature, he had already helped operatives of a group who called themselves a shield to break apart the berserker staff. A weapon left behind centuries ago.
Now with the help of his allies, he found himself in the forests of the nation that called itself Canada. He looked up as he heard two ravens fly overhead. He quickly looked away from them. If Odin wanted to waste time and keep an eye on him, that was his own waste of time. Thor wasn't a threat, he didn't seek to overthrow and rule Asgard. All he wanted to do was help people, and he'd do everything in his power to make sure he could do so as well as possible. The weapon was being forged, yet Screwbeard was no sorcerer and nor was Thor. In days past Midgard possessed its own Sorcerers though Thor wasn't entirely sure where any of them were these days, he had done a 'google' and found several though they all turned out to be charlatans.
So now he sought a different kind of sorcerer. He had heard the tales when he still traversed the nine realms, the dark elf sorceress who had once lain with Malkeith the Accursed. He had betrayed her and murdered her entire village and people. After she attempted to kill him, he cast her out. Malekith found it crueller to banish her to where she could never return than to allow her to reunite with her people in the afterlife.
1015CE // EAST COAST // NORTH AMERICA
Selvig nodded along. "I took the liberty of pulling some files once I saw the news-" He indicated to the mess of papers surrounding him. "-just in case you came looking for my help." Thor smiled at his friend as Erik worked his way into the centre of the papers. "From what I can tell our Draugr friend from Oslo was from a particularly nasty group of Norsemen. They routinely went a-Viking but killed indiscriminately. Other Norse, men, women, children. Unlike other Norse Clans there seemed to be no form of system of honour, other than strength-"
Thor ground his teeth together. "I know the type well."
The village burned. Bodies littered the ground, covered in a smoky haze. The smell of death, piss and sweat radiated from every darkened corner. In the centre of the village, the biggest fire of all roared, almost as violently as the attackers had claimed the village. Bodies of the fallen raiders were lifted and thrown onto the fire to burn as a massive communal funeral pyre. The bodies of the fallen villagers? The men and women who fought back? They were left where they fell. The raiders had come through the fog of the sea, they had been unprepared.
They had heard tales of whitemen, but had never seen heard tales of them being this far north, or capable of attacks so brutal. All the men had been killed, not just the warriors. Even the elders, and boys who had come off age. All the woman, who hadn't fought back had been rounded up near the funeral pyre. The raiders had taken the most attractive of the woman by force, their protests and screams the only thing that could be heard over the roaring fires. The rest who had already been used, and those who could do nothing but watch, whimpered and sobbed huddled together. Surrounded by guards who leered at them, occasionally drawing a blade near them. Cutting cheeks, or using them to remove clothing.
In the longhouse all the food in the village littered the tables, men stumbled around and cheered. Women from the village served the men their food, alcohol and other needs. Those that didn't had their throats cut, and were put back outside with the others. The Jarl sat on the chair at the end of the longhouse, he had brought it with him from his homeland as he surveyed his raiders as they all partook in the bounty this land had brought them. It would be a good land to conquer, the people were fighters but their techniques for making armour and weapons seemed almost primitive. They were not true warriors. He dropped the mug of ale he had been drinking, while the others drank the piss poor stuff the natives made he was drinking the ale they had brought from the homeland. His hand outstretched, a local girl quickly filled it with another tankard.
As she was close to him he moved his hand to his knife, working its way up the side of her dress splitting the seam, barely cutting into her skin. She screamed as it dropped to the floor. Laughing he kicked her as she walked back away from him, trying to cover herself. He didn't see what became of her as his right hand man approached.
"My Jarl. The men have finished gathering everything of value in the boats."
"And have they had their fill?" He swirled the liquid around his tankard before taking a swig of the tepid liquid.
"Aye."
"Very well. Have the men return to the boats, we sail for home. We shall use the riches from his haul to build a fleet big enough to bring our people here, to conquer the new world."
"And what of the woman?"
"You say the men have had their fill?" The man nodded. "Then send them to join their men in the afterlife." A grin spread across the mans face.
"Aye, Jarl Jaekelsson."
