Odin: Hero of Legend
Few people know these stories of Odin. Fewer still ever knew that he was a real man. But I tell you these stories not to prove that he was once a man among us. I tell you them to keep him among us, in our hearts and in our minds.
Long ago, a child was left in the graveyard of Prontera's Cathedral. As he cried, lightning flashed in the sky, and as his eyes gathered tears, rain fell from the heavens above. The Bishop who ran the Cathedral took the child in, and that child grew to be Odin: one of the greatest Crusaders to ever grace the plane of Midgaard. He was strong and independent. He so mastered the Crusader's path, that schools were opened in the hopes of training other Swordsmen to be as valiant as he was. He became a legend, and as his legend spread, many came from far and wide to either seek his aid or challenge him in combat. Odin quickly grew weary of being in the eyes of others, and so he retreated to an old abbey that had been long forgotten by Priest and Monk alike. After he purged the abbey of its most bitter spirits, he sent for Nuns, Priests and Monks to maintain its upkeep. That abbey he called home from then on, but continued to venture out into the world to do his duty of vanquishing evil.
As the sun rose on yet another day in Odin's life, he received a letter from Prontera's Cathedral requesting his presence at once. Odin wasn't one to refuse those who had shown him kindness in the past, so he saddled Sleipnir, his Grand Peco, and took off for the city immediately. Nearing its walls, he noticed a strange occurrence. All of Prontera was being covered by a light snowfall! He sensed no evil about, so he knew it could not have been the work of dark forces. Still, he ventured within the city walls and to the Cathedral to answer his summons.
Father Mareusis, who was in charge of the Cathedral at the time, greeted Odin at the front door. "Come in, come in my son! It's so good to see you! How long has it been? Not long enough, obviously. You look not as though you have aged!"
One of the many mysteries about Odin was his age, for no matter how the years passed, his form remained timeless in its appearance. It seemed that on the day he became a man, time took its hands off of him.
"Whate'er the blessing, I am grateful for it," was his humble reply. He left his mount in the hands of an alter boy, then respectfully removed his helmet as he entered the Cathedral walls. The interior of the church seemed more frigid than the exterior, with ice and snow decorating its walls all over. The parishioners and Acolytes who wandered the church's halls kept themselves well bundled, and every fireplace had been stoked to blazing. This was indeed a curious phenomenon to the mighty Odin, so he questioned Father Mareusis as they moved towards the inner sanctum.
"Father, what has brought about this strange curse of weather?"
Father Mareusis dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "That will be explained in time," he replied. "For now, I have someone I'd like you to take with you. She is a Priestess, come to us from Lutie. She transferred here looking for work but I'm afraid I have no place for her. You, on the other hand, I'm certain will have room for her in that vast abbey of yours?"
"Another Priest," Odin grumbled, for at the time, he was not very enthused about taking on newcomers to his abbey. He wanted as little company as possible, but kept the Priests that were already there to keep the abbey in fair condition.
"I am not so certain that I have room for another Priest," he replied.
"Surely you could take her with you on your many ventures about the known world," Mareusis asked, almost pleading as he did so. "She has ventured so far, and I am pained to turn her down, but, we really don't have a place for her here. Come, at least meet her before you say no altogether."
"Father," Odin went on, "I support the church in all its ventures, but seldom do I take a Priest with me on my personal crusades. They're so.... fragile, male and female alike. I have not the extra attention to give to one during heinous battle."
His words disappointed Father Mareusis. "My son, I have never heard you underestimate the Priesthood so," the Father told him. "You know as well as I do that Priests are the most suitable travel companions for Crusaders. Especially when one is off laying the undead to rest."
"Beasts are my current prey, not the undead." Odin reached for any excuse his mind could yield, for he truly had no desire to take on another Priest. But, when they reached the open doorway of the inner sanctum, one look within cast all excuses from him. The weather was at its worst within the sanctuary--the pews were hidden by hills of snow! Winds whipped snowflakes about like sheets hung to dry. Odin pierced the storm with his gaze and soon discovered the source of it all, kneeling quietly at the altar rail. There, a Priestess prayed silently, and as she prayed, her hair released bundles of snow into the atmosphere! This was most intriguing to Odin, who moved forward to get a better look at her.
Father Mareusis followed quickly behind him. Trudging through the snow and wind was difficult, but as soon as they stood beside the Priestess, they found themselves clear of the storm altogether. Odin stared in awe, and Father Mareusis cleared his throat politely to gain her attention. The Priestess finished her prayer with a soft Amen, then rose to her feet and gave him her full attention.
The Father introduced them to one another. "Priestess Winter, I would like you to meet Odin, one of our former charges who has risen to greatness in his own time."
The snowstorm settled as the Priestess directed her attention to the Crusader. Her gaze was cool and gentle, and as her eyes met his, a feeling came over Odin of the likes he had never felt before.
"Please, call me Wintery," the Priestess replied. Her voice was quite calming, far more than any other Priestess he had ever met.
"I believe that goes without saying," Odin said with slight amusement. "Although, your winter breeze seems to be affecting Prontera much to its dismay."
The Priestess gazed across the inner sanctum and, for the first time since she had arrived, she noticed the frosty torrent that she had brought with her. She was truly unique, for unlike everyone else in the Cathedral, she remained unbundled and unbothered by the cold climate.
"I apologize, Father," she said as she bowed humbly to Mareusis. "Often times it cannot be helped. The winter weather follows me no matter where I go."
"It is all right, my child," he replied. Father Mareusis was being kind, which was his holy duty, though on the inside, he was feeling quite distressed by the situation. Leaving the Priestess to continue her prayer, he led Odin to his study where they could speak in private. Fortunately for Mareusis, a fire was stoked in his office and he settled close to the fireplace to warm himself up again.
"It is a strange phenomenon," he said, "and it must have been happening to her all her life."
"She is... unique indeed," Odin spoke distantly. His body felt no chill but his mind was frozen with the image of the Priestess gazing at him directly. He knew not the meaning of any feelings unpertaining to his duty as a Crusader, so the feeling that grasped his very soul left him paralyzed with confusion.
"But as you can clearly see," Father Mareusis continued, "we cannot keep her here. Not only do we have the church to think about, but the people of Prontera as well! They're not used to such cold climates! Already, a few cases of pneumonia have arisen that we've had to cure." Then he smiled as he noted, "This woman carries interesting weather with her, much like a certain charge I remember finding in our graveyard when I was but an altar boy."
Odin exchanged knowing glances with the Father, and it was then that he was won over to take on the request. "Very well," he replied. "She may come with me to Saint Capitolina's abbey."
Father Mareusis couldn't have been happier. "Splendid, my son, splendid! I'm sure she will do you a world of good."
Priestess Winter went with Odin and all the weather about Prontera cleared up instantly. The snow followed her to Saint Capitolina's abbey, but by some miracle, it remained quite harmless while she was there. The only sign of it was a light powder that fell from her hair whenever she moved her head, and the occasional nightly snowfall that cleared by morning.
Neither Odin nor Father Mareusis could have fathomed what that arrangement would produce. The Crusader and the Priestess came to care for each other deeply in time. The more Odin got to know Wintery, the more he wanted to be with her, and vice versa, until the two were practically inseparable. They ventured to the very outskirts of Midgard together, meeting challenges and purging the world of evil. Then one day Odin proposed, and Priestess Winter accepted, and they were scheduled to be wed after a few seasons passed.
Before the wedding, however, a great tragedy would befall the couple. It happened during a rare venture to Priestess Winter's hometown, Lutie. She wanted to invite all her old acquaintances to the wedding, but an old acquaintance of Odin's had other plans for him. Garm was an unforgiving monster with a burning hatred for all servants of the Divine. He especially hated Odin, whose legends managed to reach the cold plain of death and ice that he called home. In the past, Garm challenged Odin many times in hopes of destroying him, but even when he had the means, the Crusader always managed to elude him. Once Odin's scent reached Garm's nostrils, the monster immediately set out for the outskirts of Lutie to do him harm.
But the beast was far from Odin's mind. He and his fiancé were there to be happy. They rode together on the back of Sleipnir but stopped half a mile from Lutie's entrance. A group of Marins, winter-borne Porings, were playing in a nearby bank of snow, and Odin had it in his mind to hunt a few of them.
"What for," Wintery inquired.
"I know for a fact that the Marin drops a special crystal if you kill it the right way," Odin replied. "I want to procure one for you. It will look splendid in your wedding ring."
And so, Wintery sat patiently and waited while Odin took to the Marin dozen. But while he worked and she waited, Garm closed in on their location, his maw dripping with ice cold drool in anticipation of the battle to come. He kept to the trees for an intended surprise assault, only to find himself surprised at what he saw. Odin was nowhere to be found, but Wintery wreaked of his scent. Garm was ready to destroy her for that offense alone--then, he got a good look at her, and saw how the falling snow was attracted to her hair. She was an enchantress of winter--a rare woman that charmed cold climates by her looks alone. Even Garm, who was forged from the bitterness of the seasons, couldn't help but be enraptured by her vision. He had to have her, and so to take her he stepped out of the woods in the guise of a Lord Knight.
"Good morrow," he said as he stood beside the Grand Peco upon which she sat. Sleipnir knew better than anyone else that danger was about, but before it could cry out in alarm, Garm took hold of its reigns and his touch silenced the creature temporarily.
The Priestess was oblivious to the danger she was in. "Greetings," she responded politely. "It is not often I see a Knight traversing this harsh terrain on foot."
"There isn't a Knight in the world such as I," Garm boasted proudly, "and there isn't a woman in the world like you. That is why I have chosen you to be my bride."
Wintery could be nothing but polite in light of the situation. "I am afraid you have come too late to make such a proposal, Sir Knight," she replied, "for I am betrothed to another."
Unfortunately, her words would not stave off the beast in disguise. "You are unaware of who or what I am," he stated, "so I will disregard your initial decline. You see, I am unmatched in power and skill by any man in Midgard. You would be wise to reconsider my offer, since I make it so generously now."
Wintery was unmoved by the slow-building threat she heard in the back of his throat. "You may be many things, Sir Knight," she replied, "but you would have to encompass unspeakable greatness to cross the name of my beloved from my heart." And as she finished her words, she motioned in the direction from whence came Odin, returning from his hunt. His arms cradled a collection of garlet--crystals that could have easily been purchased from Geffen, but would have held less meaning then.
As soon as Odin caught sight of the false Lord Knight he let the garlets drop from his arms. He knew exactly who it really was--that same guise had been used to trick him long ago. "Garm," he announced, and the beast turned to stare him down, a cruel grin forming on his illusionary lips.
"So this is your betrothed," Garm said, speaking to the Priestess but keeping his gaze on Odin. "I should have known. His stench is all over you and that beast you ride."
Odin reached for his sword and pointed its tip forward as he spoke. "Come away from her, creature, or this day you will live to regret crawling from your place of hiding."
Garm laughed at Odin's bravery as it if meant nothing. "So, enchantress, you demand greatness of your betrothed?" He winked at Wintery over his shoulder, then unsheathed a pair of wicked swords with icy blades. "We shall see how hard you fall for me when my greatness destroys this meager Crusader."
As Crusader and creature advanced on one another, Priestess Winter cast her blessings over Odin in preparation for battle. Garm was upset by her helpfulness but not in the least bit deterred. His two swords clashed with Odin's one, and after they pushed on each other for a while, Garm blew icy breath on the blade of Odin's sword until it cracked. The pressure from his two swords caused the blade to break and sent poor Odin tumbling backwards in the snow. He recovered quickly enough, however, and raised his shield in time to prevent the two swords from cutting him in thirds.
"This won't take long, now that you're disarmed," Garm announced smugly.
"You think so, eh," was Odin's reply, then he gave the creature the surprise of his life. In one quick motion, he took an elemental damascus from the shin of his greaves and drove it right through the illusionary Lord Knight's chest. The knife was an early wedding present from the famous Blacksmith, Brohain, enchanted with the very element that Garm was weak to: wind. The Knight's demonic cry filled the air and shook the earth, then his illusion gave way to his true, monstrous form.
Garm heaved an angry breath before charging full-speed towards Odin. The wind damascus singed the icy plate where it protruded from his chest, but eventually his momentum shook it to the ground. Odin braced himself for impact, but he was bowled over and trampled under Garm's powerful paws. Fortunately for him, Priestess Winter remained close by, and she healed his wounds the moment Garm passed.
This angered the unforgiving ice beast greatly. One on one he knew he could defeat Odin, but with a healer restoring the Crusader, it meant the fight would drag on until even the brute would be forced to retreat. To make up for this, Garm summoned a horde of monstrous polar bears known as Sasquatch, and sent them to drive Wintery away from the battle.
Odin saw exactly what was going on, and partly encouraged it. He called to his fiancé, "Wintery! Take Sleipnir and run!"
But she refused to abandon him. "I will make a warp so we may both get away," she called back to him.
Garm took the opportunity of their distraction to hit and hit hard--poor Odin should have never taken his eyes off the monster for even a moment. He was upon Odin before the Crusader could turn around and sunk his teeth deep into his side, puncturing armor, flesh and bone. One half of Odin's body went limp and the other writhed in pain. He couldn't free himself from Garm's jaws but after a while it didn't matter. The Priestess's horrified scream was the last thing Odin heard before the world went dark for him. Garm let his body fall from his icy jaws and gladly licked the blood from his dagger-like fangs.
Priestess Winter held back all her tears as she made an effort to rescue the fallen Crusader. She could drive Sleipnir quite skillfully from Odin's teachings, but all the skill in the world couldn't help her get past the line of Sasquatch that blocked her path. Garm made plans to advance on her next but she had plenty of time to teleport herself away. Wintery knew, however, that if she made her escape, she would never see Odin alive again. In the eyes of Man and the Divine she made a very noble sacrifice: using a blue gem, she created a warp portal beneath Odin and sent him back to Saint Capitolina's abbey.
All the Monks, Priests and Nuns of the abbey halted their duties when word spread rapidly of Odin's condition. The Monks prayed for his soul, the Priests healed him and the Nuns bandaged his near-fatal wounds. But even with their care the mighty Crusader remained unconscious for quite some time. His battered state and the missing presence of Priestess Winter marked a dark day for all of Divinity.
No one wanted the task of telling Odin about his fianc's disappearance, for they knew not how he would react. What they knew was that as soon as he awoke, he would wonder, therefore keeping silent vigil over his room was a tense task. Father Mareusis was sent for, knowing that he would handle the task bravely while seeing to the welfare of his former charge. Mareusis was not there when Odin awoke, however. As luck would have it, a young Acolyte was the one to be present when the Crusader stirred once again.
"Odin is awake," the boy called from the closest window, then stood by his lord's bed and waited to be noticed.
Odin uttered the name, "Garm..." It was still fresh on his lips and mind. All the while he was unconscious, he relived that horrifying scene over and over, until the thought of the Priestess brought him back to consciousness. "Where is Wintery," he asked aloud, then looked to the young Acolyte for an answer. The poor child looked as though he would cry if he were made to tell all--fortunately, Father Mareusis entered the room and relieved him of his burden.
"We don't know," the Father admitted sadly. "Your Priests inform me that you were transported here magically. My assumption is that she did the noble thing and warped you here, even though she was unable to warp herself." Anything else he had to say was quickly dismissed as Odin rose from his bed to dress himself. The fire of determination burned bright in his eyes and nothing could be said to dissuade him.
"At least tell me where you are going," Father Mareusis pleaded to know.
"To fetch a sword, then to fetch my bride," Odin called as he strode away from the abbey. This time he meant to destroy Garm once and for all, saving himself and all of Midgard a load of misery in the future.
Perhaps fortune smiled over Priestess Winter--perhaps not, for she was still alive, but in the possession of Garm. He held dominion over a fortress of ice and sleet, and there he kept her locked away inside a tall tower. A curse that blanketed the tower prevented the Priestess from using any of her Divine-given powers for any reason. The lack of windows kept the longing snow from caressing her delicate strands of hair. Her only light was a single torch with a magic flame, and her only furniture was a bed carved out of a block of ice.
"The woman whose hair snow longs to caress," was Garm's name for her when he came to visit. He could only fit in her prison when he wore his Lord Knight disguise, but it suited him all the same.
He went on to say, "You sent your Crusader away a bit too late, I'm afraid. I felt his life slip from him before I threw him to the ground." Garm would have reveled in seeing her sorrow towards his lie but he was denied. The Priestess showed no emotion towards him, becoming so outwardly cold as to blend perfectly with her prison. Nothing Garm had to say had any effect on her, and few things he said, she responded to.
"Since you are now no longer engaged," he continued, "then I propose you marry me while I'm still in the mood to accept."
"You may be in the mood to accept, but I am not," Wintery replied. She wouldn't even give him the benefit of her gaze, instead opting to stare at a flower that was frozen in one of the ice blocks that made up the floor. Garm growled at her defiance, but that part of him which was formed of the winter elements would not allow him to put her out of his misery.
"I proved myself the container of unspeakable greatness," he snarled. "Is that not what you required?"
"Your greatness lies only in the power to destroy," the Priestess replied. "Odin has that power and much more. Can you be gentle? Can you love anything besides the sounds of horrified screams? Can you know what it means to sacrifice yourself so that others may live? Is there compassion behind that icy, armor plating of yours? Or even a heart? No, I think not. Do what you will with me, but know that I will never come to you willingly."
Once again Garm's roar shook the tundra of ice and snow, this time reaching as far as the walls of Lutie. In that instant, he was so consumed with rage that his aura cracked the floor beneath his illusionary feet! "HOW DARE YOU REFUSE MY ADVANCES," he bellowed, then suddenly his tantrum ceased. He turned sideways and sniffed the air once. Odin's scent was within the area, noting to Garm that the Crusader wouldn't be long from his fortress. This notion gave the monster a wicked plan to deal with the couple, making him smile as he turned to face Wintery again.
"Very well," he spoke calmly. "I am ready, but you are not. But, you are also not in control of this situation. So, we are going to have a wedding, whether you like it or not." Garm threw his cape aside and disappeared, carried out on a gust of icy wind that closed the door on Priestess Winter's prison.
Odin was deep within the icy tundra, but he had stopped his journey to tend to Sleipnir, who he found huddled in a bank of snow. The warbird had managed to escape death and wandered the frozen terrain with minor injuries. Odin fed his mount a Yggdrasil Berry: the famed fruit of that tree which holds the world together. Instantly Sleipnir was rejuvenated by the berry's curative power, then Odin took his place in its saddle and continued his quest.
Snow whipped about the plains of Lutie in a direct path to Garm's fortress--it was as if every snowflake knew where Priestess Winter was, and wanted to join her. Odin followed the flow of the wind and it brought him to the courtyard of the fortress, where he could hear the sound of unholy wedding music playing on a pipe organ. No guards were stationed outside but even if they were, the Crusader would have cut through them mightily to get within the fortress. Once he burst through the heavy doors, the winds tore through the hallway and guided him to the innermost chamber. There the music was loudest, and there he saw a sight that angered him so greatly, the clouds darkened in the sky above the plains of Lutie, and thunder rumbled above the sound of the wind.
Priestess Winter stood before an icy altar with her legs chained to the floor. Tears were falling from her eyes and they froze as fast as they rolled from her cheeks, falling in a growing heap at her feet. A Sohee floated near to represent her matron of honor and a Dark Priest stood behind the altar, speaking the rites of the ceremony. In one corner of the room, an old pipe organ stood frozen and immobile, yet sound played from it as though someone were pushing its keys. Garm stood boldly to the right of the Priestess in his Demi-Human guise and smiled while the event took place.
Odin withdrew his new blade from its resting place at his side--a flamberge imbued with the wind element. He called into the chamber, "GARM," and the wedding ceremony paused. The organ stopped its playing and the Dark Priest ceased his chanting. Wintery turned quickly to see her hero, but the chains about her ankles caused her to trip and fall, right into the arms of the evil Lord Knight. Lightning flashed in Odin's eyes as well as the sky above as he advanced slowly towards them.
"You remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain," Odin hissed through gritted teeth. "Take your hands off my woman and FACE ME, ONCE AND FOR ALL!"
Garm smiled down at Wintery, keeping his back to the advancing Crusader. "So good of you to attend my wedding, Odin," he said, and his voice carried an unnatural echo. "I saved a seat just for you." He kept one arm around his unwilling bride, and with the other, he motioned to the pews that covered the chamber floor. On each pew there sat the soul of a warrior who, at some point in time, Garm had vanquished in battle. Only a single seat on one of the front pews remained unoccupied and the brute pointed towards it.
Odin sneered at the sight and continued his approach. "There will be NO wedding for you, creature," he said. "Now release her and fight!"
Garm turned to face Odin, sporting a look of sheer defiance. "Ah, but the wedding is almost over," he said, then reached within his armor for something. "Allow me to put the ring on the bride's finger."
The ring Garm presented had a dark aura that Odin could see even at a distance. Priestess Winter tried to keep her hands clenched to prevent it from being put on, but Garm was strong, and able to pry her right hand open. For Odin, the whole world seemed as though it were moving in slow motion as he raced down the center aisle to stop the proceedings--he even threw his shield at Garm once he was within range, but it was too late. When the ring slipped onto Wintery's finger it sent a chill through her body--something she had never felt before! Winds whipped violently around her, so much that Odin had to brace himself on a pew, although he was still several yards away. Starting at the soles of her feet, the Priestess changed from flesh to ice, until not even a strand of her hair moved in the cold breeze that blew through the fortress. Even her Priestly garb froze, and there she stood, a lifeless statue at an unholy altar.
Garm's cruel laughter echoed from where Odin's shield had sent him to the floor, then he spun around and disappeared on icy wind once again. "She belongs to the ice now, Crusader," his voice called from all directions, "and I am the ice. I am the bitter cold that chills your blood. I am the pain you feel when you slip into frozen waters and begin to drown. I am the unforgiving winter storm, and now, she is a part of me. Mwhuah-hah! Take her if you can! I will enjoy the taste of your sorrow as you struggle fruitlessly to save her."
While Garm spoke, and as the wind became calmer, Odin looked to his horror at the condition of his fiancé. He cleared the distance between them quickly enough, then reached out to touch her--the cold of her form penetrated his gauntlets and chilled his fingers to the bone. Out of anger, the Crusader fell to his knees and broke the frozen floor with his fists. He cried out, "DAMN YOU GARM," and lightning struck the ground outside of the fortress in several places. Once he suppressed the sorrow that dared to consume him, he took off his cape and wrapped it around his hands. He then took hold of Wintery's frozen body, and carried her gently but quickly from Garm's keep. As he moved the cape froze around his fingers, but he ignored the biting pain and moved on. Outside, he took hold of Sleipnir's reigns and reached into his saddlebags for a Butterfly Wing: that mystical item which transports one to the last town they visited. Before he could use the item, however, Odin listened angrily as Garm had a few more words to say:
"You could have been destroyed today, Odin, but I think this is a more fitting torment for you. I'll revel in your pain, and once you've been fully consumed by your loss, then I'll come for you. I'll collect her, and I'll destroy you." The brute's vicious laughter echoed in Odin's ears as he used the butterfly magic to get away from the plains of Lutie.
In matters of elemental enchantments, Odin knew the best place to venture was Geffen, the city of Magi and Wizardry. At their main school he sought council from Grand Master Laverso, a scholar in water and frost magic. Under the Grand Master's guidance, other Wizards took the Priestess back into one of their laboratories to study her condition. Odin waited for word while an attendant wrapped his frost-bitten hands in potion-soaked bandages. Once there was word to give, Grand Master Laverso came to the Crusader and spoke to him in the privacy of a small, empty classroom.
"This is quite the situation, Lord Odin," Laverso stated. "Whatever magic Garm used is strong, indeed. I have studied the frozen arts for half a century, and yet even my hands were pained to touch her."
Odin sat in one of the classroom's windowsills and listened quietly to what the Wizard had to say. It is said, that as a mark of his sorrow, rain fell from dark clouds over Geffen the whole while he was there. "Is she lost to me," he asked in a whisper, for deep down he did not want to know if the answer was yes.
"Yes and no," Laverso replied. Wizards had always been known not to give straight answers, and he was no different. "From what I and my colleagues can determine, she has most assuredly been turned into ice. But within that ice, her soul can still be felt by those proficient in that particular energy. And, as another good sign, though she is in warm weather now, the Priestess is not melting. Our Elders are formulating a solution as we speak. You may continue to wait here for more results, or we could arrange a room for you in one of our dorms."
"I do not desire bodily comfort at this time," Odin replied, then was left to brood. Time passed slowly while he waited for better news on his bride's condition. Then, he was visited by an old friend, of whom he hadn't seen in years. Nicolas D. Wolfwood was another legend of that time, though his story must be saved for another session. He and Odin grew up together, and although they had the same warrior's spirit, he had chosen the path of the Monk instead of the Crusader. Now, he came to Odin at the request of Father Mareusis, sent to keep him from further acting without thought. Nicolas entered the school and was led to where Odin waited--as soon as he was seen by his old friend, they greeted each other warmly.
"So you've gone and gotten your woman killed," Wolfwood said in an amused tone. He always found amusement in situations great and small, no matter how much it upset the target of his humor.
Odin certainly wasn't amused. "She is not dead," he stated bluntly, "only cursed. I am waiting now to hear what may be done about it."
"What should be done is that we venture back to Lutie and let a little light through Garm," Nicolas said as he clenched his fists and flexed his muscles. "I've been training 'til my muscles weren't wont to train anymore. And I plan to train again. But first, my brother, I have come to aid you."
His friend's bravery was quite admirable to Odin. "I must tend to Winter first," the Crusader replied. "Once she is free and safe, I will not rest until Garm is put beneath the snow where he belongs."
His wait ended that moment as Grand Master Laverso entered the room once again. "Lord Odin," he called out, "we have your solution. Although how it may be achieved is another matter entirely."
Odin stood for his news. "It will be my task to fret over that," he stated. "Now speak! What word have you for me?"
Laverso inclined his head once, then spoke. "The Elders decree that in order to free Priestess Winter, you must remove the ring from her finger. Such is not a simple task, however, for it requires a pick, forged from the fang of Hatii, to succeed." Hatii was another name for Garm, often spoken by mystic scholars because of its reverent tone. "The fang must be acquired--it matters not, left or right--then it must be forged by a Blacksmith of legend. One tap from the pick is all that is required, and it must be done with precision. Tap any other part of her hand on accident, and she shatters."
Nicolas stood by and listened. "Favorable odds," he noted after the instructions were given. "Shall we begin to mount an army, Odin?"
"I need no army," Odin stated bitterly and proudly, to which Wolfwood responded by stepping up to him and gripping his shoulders.
"Have not your past ventures with Garm schooled you on anything," the Monk asked harshly. "You are no match for him! No one is! Alone, or with the aid of a mere handful of willing warriors! To strike Garm down I am more than willing to go the distance, but we need an army to make it count! You wish to stride there only to be laughed at and killed?" Wolfwood displayed one of his biceps and kissed it proudly. "I did not train these for dying, I trained them to deliver death!"
Odin could not argue with his friend's wise, though unorthodox speech. "I know you speak the truth, my brother, but Garm's name alone brings out the worst in me," the Crusader replied, then looked to Grand Master Laverso. "Petition as many Wizards as you can to join my crusade. In one week, I will return to Geffen with as many of every professional class as I can obtain. Then, we will march on Lutie, and take down Garm, and anything else that stands in our way of reaching him!" Odin left Priestess Winter in the care of Geffen's Wizards, then ventured off to gather his army.
When the day came to march on Lutie's plains, Odin had surmounted an incredible army. Every hero in Midgard had come out of hiding for the event and brought as many friends with them as they could find. Every class was represented, even the unscrupulous Rogues and Assassins, and every clan had at least one representative, foregoing their differences with the other clans. Odin's fame and good withstanding had earned him the support of every last one of them. He was proud that day, but did not let his pride distract him from the task at hand.
Odin's mighty army marched around the twisting pathways over Mount Mjolnir and entered the plains of Lutie. It is said that the army was so vast, that a child in the town of Lutie looked out his window and saw them though they were miles away. Garm had been resting in his frozen keep when he was awoken by the scent of his old nemesis. He immediately left to meet the oncoming challenge, keeping confident even when he saw what awaited him in the field.
The army took all the space on a large hillside as they waited for orders to act. Odin rode high on Sleipnir's back, pacing before the front line. In the valley before the hill stood Garm, alone but unshaken. His maw spread into a fang-filled grin as he and the Crusader locked gazes, then he offered the first taunt of the evening.
"So," the beast called, "the mighty Odin requires an army to do his job for him, ah?" Garm's laughter carried over the field. "I guess you've finally learned half your lesson, then. No one man can defeat me." He scratched at the ground with his paws and braced himself for his next move. "And now for the other half," he called, then howled loud enough to wake the dead all the way south in Glast Heim. The ground rumbled as an army of Sasquatch, greater in number than that of Odin's army, clawed their way from beneath the snow and stood around Garm defensively. "No army will ever be great enough to defeat me," the brute boasted, then charged forward with his troops.
The battle itself was quite titanic! Odin and his warriors ran full-force down the hill to meet the challenge head-on. Priests weaved their way in and out of the action, casting their Divine-given enchantments and healing those in need. A group of Bards and Dancers stood at the foot of the hill, playing and dancing to a rousing fight song that kept the troops encouraged. Hunters shot their arrows in an arc, raining death on any creature unfortunate enough to be caught beneath it. Assassins and Rogues used their mighty tricks to put down as many Sasquatch as they could, although it seemed the Rogues were more interested in taking parts off the beasts for later profit than winning any sort of war. The Knights picked up their slack quite well, however, bashing heads and moving in time to rescue the heroes who became overwhelmed by combat. The Wizards and Sages wove dangerous spells of lightning and let them loose in the atmosphere, while the Alchemists grew deadly plants that enveloped and consumed any Sasquatch that came within range. The mighty Crusaders, led by Odin, carved an unrelenting path towards Garm, while the Monks, led by Nicolas D. Wolfwood, darted through the field doing hand to hand combat with whatever creature they could find. The Blacksmiths were not to be missed as well, but their place was back on the hill that they came from, working on a special weapon under the instruction of the legendary Brohain.
Garm's own troops were making their greatest effort as well. Every Sasquatch had the strength of seven men, and when they got their arms around a hero, they would squeeze until bones were broken and breath was denied. With their claws they would swipe and leave gashes in armor and flesh, and with their paws they would send soldiers reeling several feet in the wrong direction. What gave Odin's army the advantage was the presence of the Priests, who would do nothing but heal the wounded and avoid conflict. Garm was wise to this technique, however, and as he plowed through the gathering like a runaway cart, he made sure to take fatal bites out of whatever Priest was unfortunate enough to be within his reach. He took blows during his rampage but ignored all of them, driven by the heat of battle to destroy everything in his path. Soon the snow on the battlefield was reduced to slush, reddened by the blood of man and beast alike.
As the battle raged on, both sides diminished greatly in numbers. Garm, however, was not without cunning. When his army was down to but one-third of what he had originally summoned, he summoned again, calling up that same amount to continue waging war tirelessly. Discouragement rode on the backs of many of Odin's supporters when they witnessed this--even the Bards and Dancers, frostbitten and muscle weary, could no longer continue their supporting performances. Odin himself was wearied by constantly clashing with Garm and being separated by the surrounding battle, but he refused to let the insurmountable odds daunt him. He looked to the Blacksmiths for a sign--Brohain signaled him, then Odin made his call.
"You've named me a coward many times, beast," he called above the roar of battle. "Seems that title belongs to you instead!"
Every beast and warrior halted their actions and looked in the direction of Garm. The ice wolf growled angrily at Odin's comment and called back to him, "With what gall do you make this statement, Crusader? Was it not you who came to me with an army in tow?"
"Aye, that much is so," Odin replied, "but I petitioned but ONE army to my aid, and such an unsizeable one at that! You, on the other hand, not only seek the help of TWO armies, but two which, on their own, overdo mine in number! Your eyes are not the only yellow parts of you, it seems!"
Garm barked, growled, gnashed his teeth, scratched at the ground and foamed at the mouth. "HOW DARE YOU COME TO SUCH A CONCLUSION," he roared, but could not deny the truth behind Odin's words. This fight was between them alone, and the beast hungered to deliver the death blow to that famed warrior of decades past.
"You have your point," Garm hissed, and with a bark, he commanded his beasts to form a straight path from himself to Odin. Likewise, Odin's troops did the same. "We will end this now, Crusader," the brute called to him, then laughed. "Or rather, I will! HAH! Are you ready? Or do you need a moment to pray?"
"No more moments," Odin replied. "This ends NOW!" Then he pulled on the reigns of Sleipnir and charged forward as fast as the warbird could move! Garm raced forward at his own rapid pace to meet him head-on. It seemed there was more than a mile between them but they cleared the distance quickly, Garm's fangs clashing with Odin's sword as they moved past one-another. Both stopped where the other had started and prepared themselves for another attempt--they repeated this process twice, then the Crusader put his secret plan to action.
Back on the hill where the army had come from, the Blacksmiths had been working on a special weapon that only Brohain knew how to forge. It took ten Blacksmiths to forge it to perfection, and several hundred of those famed crystals, the Rough Wind--or so it was written. The item was a War Hammer so engorged on wind magic that it threatened to explode, but an earthly encasement forged from a thin layer of Great Nature kept it temporarily stable. Once the item was ready it was thrown with great precision by one of the Assassins present. Garm barely caught a glimpse of it as it sailed over his head and to the waiting warrior who was meant to wield it.
Odin threw down his sword and shield, then leaped from the saddle of Sleipnir to reach the War Hammer as it sailed through the sky! He gripped its handle with both hands, and as he left the air he brought it down on the crest of Garm's head with a mighty swing! The sound was said to be like lightning striking the ground over a series of moments, and the flash was so incredible that it threatened to blind everyone present. The hammer broke instantly over Garm's head but its task was complete: in the small crack that it created in his icy forehead, the hammer sent all of its elemental power within Garm, mixing his very insides with that one element he was so weak to. The thunder and lightning yearned to escape its ice imprisonment--it darted throughout his body, creating cracks where it felt it could escape! Garm moaned and writhed like a dying animal while he felt the element run through him, but there was nothing else he could do.
Just as Garm began his death throws, all the creatures that he had summoned started theirs. The Sasquatch fell where they stood and melted back to the snow from whence they came. Bolts of lightning flew from the cracks in Garm's plating, and Odin's army was forced to run for shelter to keep from being struck. Odin himself stood close by and watched, however, fearless and feeling vindicated. Garm howled his final howl that day, then exploded in a burst of ice shards and electricity. Fortunately for Odin, at least one of the beast's fangs remained in tact enough to be used how he needed it to be. The rest of Garm's parts were either collected as souvenirs by the other heroes present, or scattered on the ever-pulling winds of Lutie's plains. This was indeed a great victory for all of them, and although they would return to their lives shortly, none of them would forget what happened that day.
Once again the great Brohain aided Odin, this time by forging the magic pick that he needed to free Priestess Winter from her icy prison. It is said that the Blacksmith made it right on that hill--that lightning struck his forge to heat it, and that the sky opened a downpour to cool the item once it was complete. However it was made, it was, then Odin rushed with it back to Geffen and the school where the Priestess was being kept. For a moment he stood uncertain, for the strike had to be accurate, lest he destroy her altogether. But with a prayer and a blessing from Father Mareusis, Odin brought down the pick with great precision, and the ring was instantly shattered. The statue melted and the Priestess stood its place. Then Odin took her in his arms and they embraced each other lovingly.
Soon after the two were wed, fearing that the seasons would bring another obstacle beforehand. Nicolas D. Wolfwood was Odin's best man, and Priestess Winter let one of the Nuns of St. Capitolina's abbey be her matron of honor. Everyone from the heroic army who was able came that day, and the event was held on the beautiful beach of Comodo. That was the day snow had willingly come to Comodo for the first and only time. Their honeymoon was said to bring snow to Jawaii island as well.
Whether or not they lived happily ever after I am uncertain, for so many other tales of Odin follow this one. But at least you now know one more, if you have never heard this one before.