Author's Note: So sometimes to develop a skill you need to experiment, branch out, and try new things. That's what this is. An experiment developing undeveloped characters and factions.

So Anonymous Coward "Bruh", attach your name and account to your outraged review saying "No one gives a flying fuck about Nahashit or whatever the fuck his name is" and "Stick to Secret Fire. At least that story has a protagonist that people can get behind. The concept of a retarded side character that goes "hurr durr i am fury" as a protagonist is laughable at best".

Because let's be real, what kind of laughable incel still uses the R-word in 2020?

Chapter 2: Sahlo

This body was contemptuously weak.

Oh it could break a normal Joor, mortal, in half with its bare hands. I had snapped the neck of a deer for dinner just the previous eve. Luckily only the first word of the Fire Breath shout was needed to start a campfire.

But it could not fly, it could not crush armies beneath its talons, it could only shout once every hour it seemed, and it constantly had to eat, shit, and sleep.

Pathetic.

As a Dovah I was able to go days between meals, processed that meat much more efficiently, and my sleep was glorious and almost at will.

Not the constant five hours a day this body needed.

But I was bending it to my needs at least, the mountains west of my...birth location were a good place to adapt to this puny mortal form. I had been hunting with my bare hands and simply outrunning my prey so far, but I had been practicing with the mortal weapons between the frequent meals.

The sword was slowly becoming a favored weapon, it felt as if I were using a talon once more. It helped that the blade itself was quite good, never dulling no matter how many times I sliced into a log with it or, embarrassingly enough, dropped it to the ground.

The savage bow and arrows I had collected were less elegant and more frustrating for me. The eye sight and reaction time of this body was passable however, which aided in the endeavor of developing some marksmanship.

Speaking of the senses this body had my head turned as I detected a far off sound of an elk releasing its death song.

I immediately crouched down and made my way towards the source of the sound. This mortal body also possessed agreeable amounts of balance now that I was used to being in control of it and I found it a simple task to quickly and silently cover the half mile between myself and the death cry.

Behind a holly tree I paused, able to get a good enough look at some mannish hunter down the hill butchering its kill.

He was a bulkier man, likely of greater Atmoran descent than my current body, and was garbed in more sensible leathers, cloths, and a cloak. He also possessed a much simpler and more elegant looking bow. His travel pack also could possibly yield some interesting supplies.

I desired the clothing. I could not insinuate myself into civilized regions in this savage garb. And that was the only way I would ever be able to learn the new languages of this era. Oh sure the local, I believe it was called Nordic, was close enough to Atmoran that I could catch the underlying basic meaning of a statement, but any sort of larger context or subtlety was going to be lost upon me.

And that burned me up inside, I was a mighty and intelligent Dovah. Not some sniveling illiterate savage, the appearance of this body be damned.

Hmm...even if I managed to shoot him with my...dubious archery skills that would ruin some of the clothing. No reason to go showing off with an arrow hole in the chest that I had stooped to banditry to gain the garb.

That left me with really just one option, stealth.

Well stealth and then my Thuum.

If I got close enough to him the Elemental Fury shout should allow me to speed my sword arm up enough to get a relatively clean decapitation, little damage to the clothing that could not be explained away as animal blood. It was a pity that the majority of shouts that I knew were either completely useless or of limited use in this mortal form.

Truly Elemental Fury was the only one viable in this situation. Fire Breath certainly was not going to preserve the clothing.

This plan of course went snout over arse when the hunter noticed me.

He turned around to grab something from his bag and froze, staring me straight in the eyes from twenty paces out.

I stared back.

He screamed something vaguely incoherent in his Atmoran successor language.

"Forsworn! You won't take me here! Sovngarde or death!" He pulled a big jagged knife out, and having recognized something sounding like the Atmoran words for death and the afterlife I was halfway through drawing my blade as well.

What followed was perhaps slightly embarrassing. My first stroke with my sword completely missed the burly man by a wide margin and he had the audacity to try and slice my guts open.

Luckily his blade caught upon the weird jutting bone structures of the armor and that allowed me to use the deceptive strength of this body to bash my forehead into his nose sending him reeling back, dazed and bloodied.

"Su Grah!" The first two words of Elemental Fury allowed me to sweep my sword back around faster than the man could respond. My blade took his neck just below where his beard fell to and the speed and force behind the blow took it off completely and sent it soaring a good twenty paces into the distance.

"Puny mortal," I taunted the corpse as I looted his haversack.

Hmm...some gold in a disc shape, some rations of some sort, various animal bits, and a horker tusk.

I was not too sure of the economic state of the current world, but it didn't seem all that impressive.

But the sack had been a bonus, I stripped the corpse of its clothing and much improved bow and arrows and consolidated all I owned into his larger sack.

Having successfully killed this man I decided my next step needed to be learning the modern language.

His leather armor, cloak, and metal arrows would certainly go a long way in physical combat compared to the savage's cast-offs. But if I was to conquer anything I would need to be able to command my thralls and subjects would I not? I would have to avoid larger settlements, even something the size of the village north of my death and rebirth would be dangerous. Perhaps I could ingratiate me to one of these groups of savages and grunt my way through until I developed fluency? Or at least comprehension.

"Uggh, the indignity of it all," I grumbled to myself. Stooping to grunts to communicate. To further cement the indignity of my situation my pathetic mortal stomach let out a grumble.

But at least there was fresh elk in front of me.