Post by Van the Vitki on Mar 20, 2007 1:39:09 GMT -5
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The vitki was dead.
He trudged through snow, blinded by the howling wind, following the sound of a voice calling out what he remembered to have been his mortal name.
The vitki was dead.
He didn’t quite remember how it happened, or when it happened. However, he knew enough to know where he was. This was Nifelheim, the land of mists, home of the dead. He trudged on - through the unrelenting wind the mournful faces of the dead stared back at him
The vitki was dead.
Through the haze of snow and ice in the flurry he saw water’s edge; two figures and the outline of a small boat waiting for him. He approached, and they were revealed to him. The first of the two was his Lady, his patroness - the Goddess of Runes, Freyja. She was strikingly beautiful and wore a long flowing gown that fluttered in the merciless wind – it was white as the snow, and trimmed by the first Ætt. Her magical amber necklace Brisingamen hung loosely around her neck and a wistful look crossed her face as he came closer. The second figure was as striking as the first, but not for beauty. Hel, the appointed ruler of Nifelheim, glared fiercely at him – her dead eye burning into the dead man.
The vitki was dead, but he heard his name clearly.
“Van,” Freyja spoke “Do you know why you are here?”
“I did not die gloriously in battle?”
The goddess moved, walking slowly and deliberately around him. As a goddess Freyja was beautiful, but with her magical necklace she was completely irresistible. The dead man could do nothing but helplessly follow her movements with his eyes. Hel did not move, but remained fixated on him, and her stare still burned even when he had averted his eyes.
Freyja continued “Do you know what kind of death you had?”
The dead man shook his head.
“It was a quick one,” Hel spoke up “He didn’t even have the time to realize he was dead.”
The dead man winced “So it was not painful?”
“No.” Hel paused “It only looked that way.”
Freyja forcibly interrupted “Your death was one suiting you and your selfishness. You squandered your gifts on yourself, and yet you did not see your own demise.”
The goddess, though radiant, had become almost as fierce looking as Hel.
“I have come all this way to grant you one more opportunity,” Freyja concentrated on the dead man, her voice rising “Do you desire the opportunity to enter the great halls, Valhöll and Sessrúmnir?”
“More than anything.” he spoke loudly, his eyes transfixed on her presence.
“In the city of Solheimer, there are a group of warriors worthy enough to enter my hall Sessrúmnir. They are brave defenders of their homeland and their peoples, and have won my favor.”
“What must I do?”
“Take this boat and cross the mists,” Freyja motioned towards the small barge at the water’s edge “When you’ve crossed go to Solheimer and use the gifts you have squandered on yourself on those whom I favor. Do this, and you may earn the opportunity to die bravely instead of like a fool.”
The vitki was dead, but now he drew breath again.
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The vitki was dead.
He trudged through snow, blinded by the howling wind, following the sound of a voice calling out what he remembered to have been his mortal name.
The vitki was dead.
He didn’t quite remember how it happened, or when it happened. However, he knew enough to know where he was. This was Nifelheim, the land of mists, home of the dead. He trudged on - through the unrelenting wind the mournful faces of the dead stared back at him
The vitki was dead.
Through the haze of snow and ice in the flurry he saw water’s edge; two figures and the outline of a small boat waiting for him. He approached, and they were revealed to him. The first of the two was his Lady, his patroness - the Goddess of Runes, Freyja. She was strikingly beautiful and wore a long flowing gown that fluttered in the merciless wind – it was white as the snow, and trimmed by the first Ætt. Her magical amber necklace Brisingamen hung loosely around her neck and a wistful look crossed her face as he came closer. The second figure was as striking as the first, but not for beauty. Hel, the appointed ruler of Nifelheim, glared fiercely at him – her dead eye burning into the dead man.
The vitki was dead, but he heard his name clearly.
“Van,” Freyja spoke “Do you know why you are here?”
“I did not die gloriously in battle?”
The goddess moved, walking slowly and deliberately around him. As a goddess Freyja was beautiful, but with her magical necklace she was completely irresistible. The dead man could do nothing but helplessly follow her movements with his eyes. Hel did not move, but remained fixated on him, and her stare still burned even when he had averted his eyes.
Freyja continued “Do you know what kind of death you had?”
The dead man shook his head.
“It was a quick one,” Hel spoke up “He didn’t even have the time to realize he was dead.”
The dead man winced “So it was not painful?”
“No.” Hel paused “It only looked that way.”
Freyja forcibly interrupted “Your death was one suiting you and your selfishness. You squandered your gifts on yourself, and yet you did not see your own demise.”
The goddess, though radiant, had become almost as fierce looking as Hel.
“I have come all this way to grant you one more opportunity,” Freyja concentrated on the dead man, her voice rising “Do you desire the opportunity to enter the great halls, Valhöll and Sessrúmnir?”
“More than anything.” he spoke loudly, his eyes transfixed on her presence.
“In the city of Solheimer, there are a group of warriors worthy enough to enter my hall Sessrúmnir. They are brave defenders of their homeland and their peoples, and have won my favor.”
“What must I do?”
“Take this boat and cross the mists,” Freyja motioned towards the small barge at the water’s edge “When you’ve crossed go to Solheimer and use the gifts you have squandered on yourself on those whom I favor. Do this, and you may earn the opportunity to die bravely instead of like a fool.”
The vitki was dead, but now he drew breath again.
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