Post by amethyst on Mar 9, 2007 15:34:25 GMT -5
Valkyrie, sounds strange falling from my lips after all this time. No, my friends, by no means am I even close to being immortal. I can die! I came very near that too one bitterly cold winters morn.
My tale I have never told till now. It is cold and dark, reflecting its origin in a land of ice and snow. I existed solely to battle monsters and outer darkness. To strike into the heart of battle and choose. To hand pick the brave , the heroic, the most steadfast of the warriors.To sit at the table of Odin in Valhalla. It was an honor to allot death to men and govern victory on the fields of blood soaked battle.
The vigorous conflict that waged that fateful morn was not unlike any other I had witnessed tenfold. On one side humans on the other elves. Neither meaning more to me then the other. I was not there to settle a fist fight between two drunkards in the local tavern. I was there to usher the courageous fallen through the Valgrind. To unlock the holy doors and escort them to the table.
I sat atop my mount on the ridge overlooking the valley below. Flanked on both sides by my sisters. Hlok, the shrieking, on my left and Gol, the screaming, on my right. I was then known as Skogul, the raging. As the frenzy of man and elf merging in a mass below commenced. My eyes began to scan the myriad of faces. Some battle hardened and scarred. Some looking as it just torn from their mothers breast.The elves, had a cold look about them. Methodical, calculated even, in action and thought. I could read it in their faces.
As the combatants began to fall, I spurred my mount. My sisters following. Hooves thundering as we flew into the flailing throng of men and metal. The sounds of battle filling my ears, sounding like a choir to me. The war cries of the men a hymn. The sweet lullaby of death.My sisters and I conducting the requiem. My sisters keeping time with their wails. My way was more subtle. My rage building from deep inside. I would walk among them orchestrating death with my eyes.
As I lighted from my mount, I saw something I had never before seen. It was a man common enough. Not unlike a thousands I had seen before. But, what drew my eye was the passion within. This one was different. I paused and watched. Wondering for a split second, what cause could drive someone thus. He swung a hammer smashing elves like dry kindling. He hated them that was more then clear. As his comrades fell around him. My sisters gleefully going about choosing. I stood staring. The warrior slammed his weapon into the side of an elves head causing a spray of crimson to paint his face.The elf fell to the side only to be replaced by another. This man was filled with as much rage as I. The only difference was he overflowed with as much love for the ones that fought by his side. A contrast that stunned me.
Thats when it happened....I was struck from behind just to the left of my spine .An elven shaft dug deep into my flesh.I reached for my blade and spun drawing up and cleaving the collar bone of an advancing elf. He screamed but was silenced by the hammer of the warrior painted crimson. As i turned back to the wave of on coming elves i was over taken by the shear number of them. I remember taking a hilt to the side of my head knocking my winged helm to the reddened earth. Then a dagger sinking into my side. I fell landing at the feet of the hammer wielding warrior. He glanced at me as I tried to get up. I know he realized what i was. He placed a muddy boot on my shoulder and held me to the ground. He straddled my body protecting me from the onslaught of elves. I lay gasping beneath him blood gurgling in my throat. This is where I would die. I could not except that. My sister seeing this thought me lost. They continued what they knew they must do. I know they would come back for my body. They would not leave me here for the wolves to feed upon.
I tried one more time to rise. Spitting the mouth full of blood on a dead elf. I made it as far as my knees . I knelt in the mud at the back of the crimson warrior. An elven archer taking aim at his back is what I saw. I drew my dagger and threw it with all the strength I had left in me. It found its mark and buried itself to the hilt in the elves throat. The elf made a sickening sound as he tried to wrench the blade from his neck. The warrior out of the corner of his eye spied this and smiled. This time there would be no getting up when i collapsed. The blackness swallowed me whole.
The next thing I remember is what seemed like years of agony. Bits and pieces really of all that happened. I know not what order they came in. I still even now try to put it in perspective. I remember waking in the back of a wagon as , What I know now is an orc, Pulled the shaft from my back. I screamed through a blood filled mouth. The crimson warrior holding me to his chest as the orc pulled it free. He looked into my eyes and smiled as the swirling blackness came. I heard his voice for the first time. " Its alright little one we got ya." I remember a gentle young woman tending my wounds. Skin milky white tattoos on her face. Glimpses of two orcs in particular. A short one that would come and sit with me. Telling me tales of war and yelling WWAAGGHHH!! Every chance he got. The other orc was tall and stoic. Never speaking just standing and watching. I was taken by fever at some point. My mind slipped in and out of sanity. But the fair one worked diligently never resting. I remember waking late one night and opening my eyes to gaze upon a dragon. He sat in the aisle of the great hall i was being cared for in. His head so close i could feel his breath on my bare feet. He slowly took the blanket in his mouth and covered my feet with it. He tilted his head and looked at me. I smiled. He returned often mostly at night. He was as black as the night with no moon. With glowing red eyes. We bonded fast this dragon and I.
The day the crimson warrior came is one that will be burned in my mind for as long as I live. I have been told he was never far from my sick bed but I don't remember this.The day I was strong enough to try to get up is the day I remember him. I sat up in the bed and put my bare feet on the cold stone floor. The fair one stood next to me ready to catch me if I fell. I slowly rose to standing. When I looked up the warrior stood in the doorway of the hall. The sun shining through his red hair. His hammer hung at his waist. I took my first step and stumbled. He was across the floor in a bound catching me before I hit the floor. He laughed and told me I needed to learn to walk before I could run. His accent was thick. His Laugh booming in my ears. Was this really the one I saw that day in the field? He picked me up and took me outside to a stone bench, Sitting me down he laughed again. Welcome to Solheimer he gushed like a proud father. I looked out across a expansive stone city that stretch as far as my eye could see.The sun warmed my face as the warrior sat down beside me.I smiled at him. He smiled back.
As I became stronger in health I walked the city.I also spent many hours in the library reading all the tomes of Solheimer lore learning finally what drove this man with such a burning passion for his people. And the deep seeded hate he felt for the elves. I learned that I had been among them for six months. Six months! Why had my sisters not come for me? Why had I been left with these people? Why had I not been fetched to sit at the table with my lord? Had Odin betrayed me? Had my sisters betrayed me?
These are all questions I vow I will learn the answers to.............................But till then. Solheimer is my home! These people are my family! I will protect them both with my life! I harbor the rage deep inside! Threaten my home and suffer the pain of my wrath! Harm my family and feel the sting of my blades! I left my name on that field of death that day. Skogul did die there.But in Solheimer I was reborn as Amethyst.
My tale I have never told till now. It is cold and dark, reflecting its origin in a land of ice and snow. I existed solely to battle monsters and outer darkness. To strike into the heart of battle and choose. To hand pick the brave , the heroic, the most steadfast of the warriors.To sit at the table of Odin in Valhalla. It was an honor to allot death to men and govern victory on the fields of blood soaked battle.
The vigorous conflict that waged that fateful morn was not unlike any other I had witnessed tenfold. On one side humans on the other elves. Neither meaning more to me then the other. I was not there to settle a fist fight between two drunkards in the local tavern. I was there to usher the courageous fallen through the Valgrind. To unlock the holy doors and escort them to the table.
I sat atop my mount on the ridge overlooking the valley below. Flanked on both sides by my sisters. Hlok, the shrieking, on my left and Gol, the screaming, on my right. I was then known as Skogul, the raging. As the frenzy of man and elf merging in a mass below commenced. My eyes began to scan the myriad of faces. Some battle hardened and scarred. Some looking as it just torn from their mothers breast.The elves, had a cold look about them. Methodical, calculated even, in action and thought. I could read it in their faces.
As the combatants began to fall, I spurred my mount. My sisters following. Hooves thundering as we flew into the flailing throng of men and metal. The sounds of battle filling my ears, sounding like a choir to me. The war cries of the men a hymn. The sweet lullaby of death.My sisters and I conducting the requiem. My sisters keeping time with their wails. My way was more subtle. My rage building from deep inside. I would walk among them orchestrating death with my eyes.
As I lighted from my mount, I saw something I had never before seen. It was a man common enough. Not unlike a thousands I had seen before. But, what drew my eye was the passion within. This one was different. I paused and watched. Wondering for a split second, what cause could drive someone thus. He swung a hammer smashing elves like dry kindling. He hated them that was more then clear. As his comrades fell around him. My sisters gleefully going about choosing. I stood staring. The warrior slammed his weapon into the side of an elves head causing a spray of crimson to paint his face.The elf fell to the side only to be replaced by another. This man was filled with as much rage as I. The only difference was he overflowed with as much love for the ones that fought by his side. A contrast that stunned me.
Thats when it happened....I was struck from behind just to the left of my spine .An elven shaft dug deep into my flesh.I reached for my blade and spun drawing up and cleaving the collar bone of an advancing elf. He screamed but was silenced by the hammer of the warrior painted crimson. As i turned back to the wave of on coming elves i was over taken by the shear number of them. I remember taking a hilt to the side of my head knocking my winged helm to the reddened earth. Then a dagger sinking into my side. I fell landing at the feet of the hammer wielding warrior. He glanced at me as I tried to get up. I know he realized what i was. He placed a muddy boot on my shoulder and held me to the ground. He straddled my body protecting me from the onslaught of elves. I lay gasping beneath him blood gurgling in my throat. This is where I would die. I could not except that. My sister seeing this thought me lost. They continued what they knew they must do. I know they would come back for my body. They would not leave me here for the wolves to feed upon.
I tried one more time to rise. Spitting the mouth full of blood on a dead elf. I made it as far as my knees . I knelt in the mud at the back of the crimson warrior. An elven archer taking aim at his back is what I saw. I drew my dagger and threw it with all the strength I had left in me. It found its mark and buried itself to the hilt in the elves throat. The elf made a sickening sound as he tried to wrench the blade from his neck. The warrior out of the corner of his eye spied this and smiled. This time there would be no getting up when i collapsed. The blackness swallowed me whole.
The next thing I remember is what seemed like years of agony. Bits and pieces really of all that happened. I know not what order they came in. I still even now try to put it in perspective. I remember waking in the back of a wagon as , What I know now is an orc, Pulled the shaft from my back. I screamed through a blood filled mouth. The crimson warrior holding me to his chest as the orc pulled it free. He looked into my eyes and smiled as the swirling blackness came. I heard his voice for the first time. " Its alright little one we got ya." I remember a gentle young woman tending my wounds. Skin milky white tattoos on her face. Glimpses of two orcs in particular. A short one that would come and sit with me. Telling me tales of war and yelling WWAAGGHHH!! Every chance he got. The other orc was tall and stoic. Never speaking just standing and watching. I was taken by fever at some point. My mind slipped in and out of sanity. But the fair one worked diligently never resting. I remember waking late one night and opening my eyes to gaze upon a dragon. He sat in the aisle of the great hall i was being cared for in. His head so close i could feel his breath on my bare feet. He slowly took the blanket in his mouth and covered my feet with it. He tilted his head and looked at me. I smiled. He returned often mostly at night. He was as black as the night with no moon. With glowing red eyes. We bonded fast this dragon and I.
The day the crimson warrior came is one that will be burned in my mind for as long as I live. I have been told he was never far from my sick bed but I don't remember this.The day I was strong enough to try to get up is the day I remember him. I sat up in the bed and put my bare feet on the cold stone floor. The fair one stood next to me ready to catch me if I fell. I slowly rose to standing. When I looked up the warrior stood in the doorway of the hall. The sun shining through his red hair. His hammer hung at his waist. I took my first step and stumbled. He was across the floor in a bound catching me before I hit the floor. He laughed and told me I needed to learn to walk before I could run. His accent was thick. His Laugh booming in my ears. Was this really the one I saw that day in the field? He picked me up and took me outside to a stone bench, Sitting me down he laughed again. Welcome to Solheimer he gushed like a proud father. I looked out across a expansive stone city that stretch as far as my eye could see.The sun warmed my face as the warrior sat down beside me.I smiled at him. He smiled back.
As I became stronger in health I walked the city.I also spent many hours in the library reading all the tomes of Solheimer lore learning finally what drove this man with such a burning passion for his people. And the deep seeded hate he felt for the elves. I learned that I had been among them for six months. Six months! Why had my sisters not come for me? Why had I been left with these people? Why had I not been fetched to sit at the table with my lord? Had Odin betrayed me? Had my sisters betrayed me?
These are all questions I vow I will learn the answers to.............................But till then. Solheimer is my home! These people are my family! I will protect them both with my life! I harbor the rage deep inside! Threaten my home and suffer the pain of my wrath! Harm my family and feel the sting of my blades! I left my name on that field of death that day. Skogul did die there.But in Solheimer I was reborn as Amethyst.
