Chapter 5:

BRAKING IN

Val's head was in a rush as she marched through the camp towards her destination. It was decided earlier that splitting up to find the ones they were fetching would be more practical. She was to find Styr the Magnar of Thenn. Proud and prissy bastard but that's not what's gotten her so ruffled.

No, it was that man, Kratos. He was not normal, she could feel it. Her instincts were telling her this was a predator, and she knows the feeling intimately. She could not count the number of times she was stalked by a wolf or bear while she was hunting.

She was harder than most and had fought off many menfolk who thought they could steal her and had stood up to even more. So, the gait of a strong man could not intimidate her. That's what she had thought anyway. She was beginning to wonder if she ever met a strong man before today. Of course, she believed Mance to be strong. He had united the numerous warring clans. Fragile as that unity was, she thought that was what a strong man was capable of.

But standing in the same tent as that man made her feel so small. There was an aura flowing off of him that you could almost touch. It was suffocating. She was certain there was some truth to what the WoodsWitch was raving about. He had to have a touch of divinity, he had to! That was the only explanation for the sheer Presence he possessed even just standing still.

There was only one of him, aye. But she did not envy the poor shits that had to fight that. She was hopeful though, may-haps he could beat some sense into them, unlikely as it was. If one or two of them were to die it wouldn't trouble her greatly. The world could do with fewer rapists and murderers.

She came upon the part of the camp the Thenn had claimed for themselves. It was the only section that had guards. Not surprising, the Thenn believed themselves proper lords, with all their so-called laws and what not. She shook her head. They were brutes like the rest of 'em, no matter what they believed.

The guards gave her a hungry look as she went by them. She was used to it, all men wanted to claim her, and none had, she was proud of it. None of them were worth her time if they couldn't even steal her properly, so their lustful gazes didn't even cause her discomfort any longer. She forged her way through their camp and came upon the Mangar's tent. A ghastly looking thing, with mammoth tusks framing the entrance.

The Giants' camp was not far to the side of the Thenn camp. They had somewhat of a friendship, the Giants being of the old days and the Thenn believing they are the last of the FirstMen. They both still kept to the Old Tongue more than the Common, albeit with different dialects.

She pushed into the tent unannounced to see Styr sitting with his son Sigorn, who was to be Magnar after him. They were both bald with blue paint over their faces and heads and had pale grey eyes. She did not dally in her objective.

"You are needed Styr. Mance wishes for you to meet Kratos."

"Kra-tos?" he tested the name in his mouth before realization seem to strike him. "The Stranger?"

"Aye." She answered simply.

"Of course, he want meet the Magnar of Thenn, only sensible. Come Sig."

Val resisted the urge to roll her eyes and only turned and exited the tent when he had gotten up to follow her. The Magnar had no idea what it was he was walking into, and she would make him no wiser. This should be interesting. She was about to lead the way when she stopped suddenly in memory.

"You should send for Mag as well Styr, he will be needed also." He searched her face for a moment then nodded and motioned for his son to do as she said. They waited for him to return with the chief of the giants and returned he did. Mag was a huge silverback giant. One of last of is kind. This made him the strongest and natural leader of his people. She nodded at him and went to continue their journey.

Of course, people had noticed this by-play and that they were heading not the center of camp and started to follow them. They no doubt thought something o importance was going to happen. How right they were. They arrived back at Mance's tent, and she noticed the lord of Bones and Varymyr were there, along with the Weeper and Harma Dogshead. 'So, Tormund and Karsi aren't back yet.' she observed. They were all standing in a rough semi-circle around where Mance and Kratos stood. Kratos had a stoic look on his face, betraying no emotion.

Styr, the self-important songbird that he was, stepped forward, and walked towards the two.

"Stranger, how smart of you to want meet the Great Magnar. No doubt these… barbarians, have not shown you proper FirstMen welcome."

Mance approached him. "Styr, we are still waiting on others to arrive. You'll know then, what this is about."

The 'Great' Magnar's face scrunched up at that, affronted, but he held is tongue. Barely. Kratos did not even spare him a glance. They stood there for another 5 minutes before Tormund showed up with Black Morris on his heels. His sons were behind him but so was a gathering crowd. In fact, it looked as if everyone arrived with a crowd in tow. Styr gained a suspicious look on his face as the atmosphere became quite tense.

This was it all the most prominent leaders and prolific aggressors were gathered. Vicious, brutal sons of goats. They wouldn't like what was to be demanded of them, they wouldn't like it one bit. But Val believed it was necessary. She surveyed the crowd and spotted Karsi looking straight at her with a look of nerves on her face. She was standing beside the old WoodsWitch, Mother Moles she said her name was?

She had become popular within the camp in a very short time and everywhere she went, she was singing Kratos's praises and naming the Old Gods' Champion. Many a folk believed her, and most others weren't far behind. The FreeFolk were desperate for some form of hope, especially those who had encountered the true threat. Now after hearing the stories and seeing Kratos' coloring, they were quick to believe the Old Gods had answered their prayers.

Hope. A Dangerous weapon or just the right tool? She supposes she'd find out in just a minute if the irritated looks were anything to go by. She wondered who'd brake first... It was the lord of Bones, of course it was the lord of Bones. She should have seen that coming.

"Now that we're all here, care to repeat what it was you was saying in the tent!" he shouted across the cavity.

"About how you want to turn us into kneelers, with proper order!" He was pandering to the crowds, trying to win support. Would it work? Their reactions varied. She saw equal parts disgust and resignation on the faces she could see. There was a chorus of murmurs and mumbles that rose up as the seconds passed.

"He thinks himself some sort of Savior! But me thinks he be wanting to change the FreeFolk. No longer wanting us to be free!" There were few shouts now. The people were getting riled.

She looked to see Kratos' reaction and he was staring at the lord of Bones passively, no obvious aggression in his gaze or posture. However, at the lord of Bones' words Styr whipped his head to stare at Kratos and Mance heatedly.

"What's This? This true Stranger? You want to take Magnar's freedom? Want take his place above others?" Kratos didn't answer him just kept his gaze and his stance.

"No words 'Champion'? shat yourself have you!" the lord of bones said then burst into boisterous belly laughs, Varymyr, the Weeper, Harma and a portion of the crowd joining him. They all trailed off though when Kratos simply began to walk into the center of the space into the middle of the gathering. He looked at the folks that were all looking back at him in anticipation.

"Do you wish to live?"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Harma vocalized.

Kratos paid her no heed and asked again. Louder.

"Do you wish to live?" when no one answered and just stared at him blankly he proceeded to take off his weapons one by one and placed them on the ground at his feet. When he was finished, he was left bare of any of his tools. He stood there, menacingly in Val's opinioned.

"…come."

"What kind of game are you playing at? Ye think just cause you dropped your weapons we wont gut yuh like a fish?" Varymyr questioned.

"Attack with your weapons." Apparently, the lord of bones didn't need to be told twice as he immediately ran in and swung his massive scythe at Kratos' unprotected neck. Well at least it was unprotected until kratos stopped the blade with his fucking forearm! Everyone was stunned. Honestly, how did one react to such a thing?

The lord of bones was not the strongest man by any account, but he was far from weak, and his blade was made with real steel, a rare thing here beyond the wall. It was sharp and firm, any man who put his arm in its way would see his arm removed in quick succession. So, his momentary hesitation at seeing such an impossible feat was understandable. Kratos didn't allow him respite though.

He grabbed the shaft of the scythe to hold it in place and delivered a powerful kick to his opponent's chest, sending him flying across the partially snow-covered ground and rolling into the crowd to end as a pile at the feet of a few of the people. There were wide eyes all around. The crowd backed up a little and Woods witch was cackling.

Kratos, who was not even winded from the event, turned to the other chieftains and growled.

"Attack me together." Most didn't look as confident as they did a few moments ago but the Weeper seemed to be up to the challenge.

"Come on ye bunch a stale cunts. He can't mean to beat us all. We'll chop him up and feed him to his Witch." That seemed to put a bit of hair on their balls and the Weeper, Varymyr and Harma started circling him.

Harma started her taunts. "Gonna carve ye up real nice, like one a ma dogs." She grinned, showing a mouth filled with rotten teeth and blackish gums.

Kratos did not move. They rushed in all at once and kratos took a step back. Harma missed her mark and stabbed Varymyr in the shoulder and the weeper just barely missed her neck.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhh! Ye fucking stabbed me ye mangy bitch." Varymyr screamed and held his shoulder. Harma didn't show much care.

"Stay out ma way Then ye spineless lizard!" she withdrew her long knife from his shoulder and turned to Kratos who was dodging the Weepers swings with ease.

"You are not warriors." Kratos said as he planted his fist into the Weeper's gut while holding his shoulder to steady him. he rammed his head into his nose braking it, then rammed it into it again. He let him go to drop like a pile of shit to the ground.

"You say you are free, but all I see are wild animals." He said again. He sidestepped Harma's knife, held her at the wrist and used his knee to brake her arm at the elbow. She wailed and spewed curses, then tried to rush him with the other arm but Kratos grabbed her by it and pulled her to him so her back was pressed to his midriff and wrapped his arms around her neck. She struggled to escape from his hold.

"You are weak but prey on the weaker to feel strong. You are depraved and to justify this depravity you call it freedom. You are rabid beasts with no discipline, no order. You think being in charge gives you the right to be monsters. But you had never met a true monster… now you have." As he said that he wrung her neck and then with one strong tug, ripped her head roughly from her body.

It was deathly silent as he kicked the body away and tossed her head to the side. No one moved. He just effortlessly disposed of some of their best fighters, and he wasn't even out of breath. What form of beast did they grant guest right to? Val was not sure what else could be done at this point to convince her more that this no normal man.

She noticed movement though from the corner her eye and shifted her gaze to see Styr slowly Creeping his way towards the axe that Kratos had dropped earlier. When he stood over it to pick it up, it seemed Kratos realized what was happening. Val was expecting him to run towards the Magnar or just stand there as he does and wait for him to attack him with his own weapon.

What she was not expecting was for him to put his hand out to the side as if reaching for something and for the FUCKING AXE! to fly to him and for it to cut clean through Styr's leg in the process. 'By the Gods, By the fucking Old Gods, wait... He isa fucking Old God!' she was losing her mind. She looked to see Tormund's eyes wide and unblinking and his sons and daughter in various states of shock and awe.

Mance's face was the vision of shock but strangely enough not exactly surprise. 'So, he had suspected then.' She came to realize. The bastard had suspected that they had a fucking God in the camp and didn't think to share this information?! She'd knee him in the balls when next she was close to him, Dalla be damned.

She looked back at Kratos and saw that he held the axe in his hand and the runes on it glowed and the blade began to be covered in ice until it was fully encased. Her mind was going to brake, she was sure of it. She could not handle another reveal. It seemed as if Kratos was about to say something when a giant club sent him keeling, meters away to crash into a tent. Mag roared in the direction he sent him, clearly angry about Kratos hurting Styr, a friend of the giants.

Val was sure that Kratos was dead. She sighed in resignation and wondered about her luck. There he was their hope. and there he went. She turned to walk away but then she heard a commotion behind her. She hastily turned back, her heart pounding in her chest. Hoping. The crowd parted and there he was strolling towards Mag as if he did not just survive a deathly blow. There was anger on his face now. And it looked spectacular. An anger that one could see ran so deep it could swallow the world whole, if its master weren't so strong and didn't hold it back so arduously.

Halfway to the giant he broke into a sudden run and leapt and held Mag by the hair on the back of his head and pulled him forcefully to the ground.

"Yield giant!" Mag roared again and thrashed. Kratos elbowed him in his eye and there was a wet squelch as it was crushed. "Yield! Or I will take more than an eye." Mag cried out but then Styr in his pain shouted for him to yield. At least the Magnar of Thenn was no fool. He knew when a battle was lost.

Kratos pushed his head to the side and stood with blood all over his person. He looked like Winter itself. Like the days when Men would make sacrifices to the Weirwood. Aye, he was definitely an Old God.