In the middle of a thick dense forest sat a small wooden building. A bar. Not to far away, to the east, was a simple village. Inside the bar sat a short, red haired man. Slowly sipping on a beer before heading back to his lonely life. Finishing it off finally, he gave out a long, drawn-out sigh.
"Uhhhh. I guess I should be headed back." He mumbled to the bar tender, who barely acknowledged hat he said anything in the first place. The man mumbled to himself a little, mostly a few insults towards the bartender, as he fished a bronze bar out of his pocket and slammed it down on the counter.
"Hey pickles, it's customary to tip." The bartender called out, holding his hand out towards the smaller man, who was getting out of his seat.
"It's also customary to not be a dick." Pickles shot back, fishing another bar out and handing it to the guy, shooting him a crooked, drunken smile. Pickles collected his sword and packed up his satchel. Walking out of the cabin he put his hand on the wooden frame of the door, thinking of the fact that this bar was the closest thing he had to a home.
Walking through the forest wasn't a correct way to say how he was moving, it was more of a stumble. But he knew his way back to his house no problem. He had did it many times, drunk, sober, when he ate those bad mushrooms and thought he was floating. He liked those mushrooms. Doesn't matter the state of mind, he could find his way back.
About 40 minutes of walking he finally came upon his house was closest to the edge of the forest. He liked it better that way, he didn't talk to a lot of people. He mostly kept to himself, being the town drunk and all. But the other half of his life was as the town blacksmith. Any type of metal was his to command. He could make anything out of nothing. He even worked with wood. He was good, beyond good.
The people of the town liked him, they just knew he drank. A lot. That didn't sit well with the fathers of the town. No father would marry his daughter off to the town drunk. That didn't stop the girls from sleeping with him though. Pickles may have not been the best looking man in the village, but he was the smoothest with his words. He could talk anyone into doing anything. The fathers still drank with him on occasion. None the wiser he deflowered most of their girls. Only the ones of age, though some liked the children, pickles always found that too weird.
Not too far from his home pickles looked over his shoulder to see something stocking him. A large set of eyes lay hidden in a bush, ready to ambush the second pickles let his guard down. Though he was drunk, pickles could still take it in a fight, he just prayed to Odin it wasn't a wolf. Those are harder to take down.
From inside the underbrush he heard a deep growl, "of course your a wolf." He mumbled, throwing down his satchel, unsheathing his sword. He readied himself before calling out. "Bring it on ya ugly beast." He stood his ground as he watched a large, white wolf emerge from the darkness of the night. How this wolf had hid its self from the light was beyond pickles. While the moonlight shown on his fir he light up like a fire. Bright and glowing he showed his fangs, threatening pickles to back off. That was the last thing on pickles mind.
"Are you just going to keep growling, or are you actually gonna do somethin?" Pickles challenged, shifting his stance, moving his sword in front of him, holding it with both hands. The wolf charged, locking his jaw on pickles calf. What it hadn't expected was that pickles had developed a guard around his legs, protecting him. The swung his sword down with all his strength, piercing it down between the creatures shoulder blades. He instantly dropped. His eyes draining of his life slowly, pickles didn't like to see anything suffer, so he thrust his sword into the wolfs skull. Killing it instantly.
Pickles started to drag his kill home, but something stopped him. A small yip from the bush behind him. He instantly dropped his prize and ran over to the bush. Inside was a small white pup with a black tail. It's eyes hadn't even opened yet. "Awe shit. Oh crap! I didn't know man, I seriously didn't know! What am I gonna do?" He paced back and forth, he looked to the pup, then to its mother, then back to the pup. He saw it start to shiver from the lack of body heat from its mother. "Fuck, fine!" He scooped the pup up as soon as it started to whine. He also grabbed his mothers body. He set the pup in his satchel and headed home. No point in wasting the meat or fur from the larger wolf.
"Guess I got a pet now." He mumbled to himself.
-authors note-
No I'm not done with my other story, I just wanted to start a new one. This is a Viking style story tho! I was inspired by vengefuleyes. So I hope you enjoy, I'll try and do both at the same time.