The black bear skin weaved into the shoulders of his tunic held together by a ornate broach protected his broad shoulders from the elements, with his leather gauntlets and tunic doing the same. And just beneath the hem of his blue jerkin peeked from underneath, providing that little more protection against the undead and their rusted ancient weaponry.
He continued on his way, the Aesir took a single long breath inhaling the many scents of early fall allowing him an odd sense of peace and serenity. Something which was broken as he reeled back in disgust, the revolting smell of sulphur and poison wafted up his nose as he glanced ahead into a small rock lined valley. Right were the path split into a fork sat a tall but rickety pole, a jumble of wooden effigies had been lashed sloppily right around the base forming a cage for the sickly yellow flame which burned hellishly within fuelling the noxious smog blocking his path.
Rolling his eyes in annoyance at the unfortunate blockade, Bjorn reached for his simple war bow strapped firmly to his back protected underneath his near unbreakable wooden shield. Taking the weapon ever graciously lent to him by Freya for his venture into the Foothills. He knocked one of his few remaining arrows, tugging on the thin string he pulled feeling the strain "reiða." he uttered as the sharpened tip of the arrow became encased in a thin coating of frost.
Lining up his shot with the monstrous blockade he exhaled through his nose unleashing the single arrow which planted itself dead centre of its target freezing the base solid, causing the smog to dissipate. Sheathing the bow across his back once again he grunted sauntering on as if nothing was out of the ordinary although still alert and fully aware of the dangers Midgard possessed, though a few Dragur were nothing compared to the glory and chaos of battle.
However, as he continued his corruption inflicted wrist throbbed with pain, A good indication the dead drew closer. Ignoring the inescapable pulsing the former general pushed forwards clasping his large hand around Gramr's handle and unlatching his round shield from his back, ready for the upcoming brawl which drew ever closer.
As expected when he came to an arena like clearing surrounded by small rocky outcroppings, a shrill cackling caused him to unsheathe his blade and twisting on his feet raising his shield and resting the edge of Gramr against its rim tightening his handle on the tools of war. Planting his feet firmly into the dirt all while the hidden assailant kept up its intrepid laughter, almost taunting him refusing to make its monstrous self known.
Suddenly, the cackles stopped as silence engulfed the clearing once again but the Aesir refused to falter knowing the revenants predicable ploys. All but a moment past when the the corrupted magic user appeared from thin air in a cloud of poison mist just behind him intent on ambushing the fully armed warrior.
But it did nothing as Bjorn twisted on a dime, the fine blade slashing through the air towards the beast slicing the feminine hell spawn across its spangled robe covered gut, half expecting the malnourished undead to collapse from the single strike. Although like most the dangerous foe dissipated into thin air cackling in some long forgotten language, reappearing just long enough to use its wretched magic to summon some of its damned brethren.
Now a fair fight had been ripped from him as grey skinned hands clawed themselves free from the dirt around him. The morning sun revealed their rotten corpse like bodies, encased in an almost bark-like layer of skin. The remnants of their war gear and clothing still hung from their bodies as the hissed and screeched towards the presumed mortal before them while their eyes burned a hate-filled orange.
Wasting no time the Dragur lurched forward unnaturally as if they were merely mimicking that a living man. Grunting in disgust the towering man shot forth with his shield and trusty sword raised, thrusting its sharpened tip right through the closest assailants neck ripping out and slashing the walking corpses head clean off, a strange orange liquid squirt from the stump as it dropped the rusted axe held loosely in its lanky fingers falling back into the dirt.
Bjorn gritted his teeth in anticipation, not sparing a moment as he charged the remains of the undead warriors slashing right through ones torso like a hot knife to butter, swiftly pirouetting he cut another's sword wielding arm free of its body and cleaving its weak skull downwards in twain sending it back to depths of Hel were it belonged.
As he did so however, an unarmed hell spawn sprinted up behind him latching onto his unprotected back and trying to claws its fingers deep into his throat. The sudden weight threw him off balance as he dropped his weapons letting out a throating battle cry as he reached behind and snatched the Dragurs fragile fore-arm ripping it off his back and crushing it's head between his hands tossing the unmoving body away like it was a piece of string.
On and on it went the group of adversaries refusing to give him room as the Revenant appeared for a only a brief few moments at a time, spawning more of its kind for ever two he slayed. Eventually after tearing the last of the attackers in half with his gauntleted hands Bjorn locked his eyes on the Revenant which had finally reappeared casting a ball of poison in its free hand intent of ending the fight then and there.
Luckily just before it tossed the lethal mix of corrupted magic he managed to draw his bow, knocking an arrow firing watching as the arrow pierced its shoulder stunning the creature for a few mere but precious moments. Throwing the bow to the grass he charged forward completely unarmed reaching the monster and unleashing a flurry of earth shattering punches to its distorted body not giving it enough time to recover as he clutched onto either side of its hooded head lifting it over his shoulder as it flailed desperately to escape, but to no avail as its chosen target slammed its body into the ground stepping his foot onto the small of its back and tugging listening as its distorted body twisted and tore.
Soon a resounding snap and tear echoed through the Foothills, the Revenants torso tore from its legs all together as Bjorn tossed the half-body away carelessly. His heart pumped as his breath remained unsteady, seething as he watched the unmoving Dragur dissipate into dust. Sighing to try to calm himself down the Aesir trotted back towards were his weapons lay sheathing them and adjusting the shield and bow back to their original places while locking Gramr firmly back into her sheath.
A raven perched itself upon a rock as it twisted its head curiously to the side squawking at him almost sounding like a mocking laugh as he took notice of the red feathers which lined the outside of its eyes. With no such hint of hesitation he drew his bow and shot the scavenger from its perch.
Nodding intently Bjorn glanced over the grass covered ground, hoping the Mugwort was still useable. Thankfully he caught site of the small cluster he was after in the first place, bending onto his knees Bjorn cupped his hands into the dirt making sure to keep the roots intact just a Freya had taught him during their first months exiled to the frozen wastes of Midgard.
He unclipped one of his many pouches gently placing the fragile cluster inside and shutting it tightly, standing to his feet he went to journey back to the Sanctuary only to hear the clatter of the rusted yet usable blades laying on the ground. Humming to himself he gathered as many as he could carry and set off back towards the boat.
Under a large tent nestled between to boulders, a strangely innocent looking bearded Dwarf toiled away at his makeshift forge. His gloved hands wielded a large hammer he battered a red hot piece of fine steel shaping it too perfection for only the sole purpose of keeping his skills in check. It wasn't as if he got much business in Midgard after the Dragur reared their ugly heads.
His golden breast plate glowed in the fires of the forge as sweat dipped from his widened forehead down past his doe like eyes into his dark beard with a single braid on his chin. Focused solely on honing his already legendary skills, Sindri didn't notice as a hulk of a man stepped towards the workbench with a handful of weapons. The blacksmith nearly hit the roof of the tarp as Bjorn dropped the weapons with a loud clank.
Nearly having a heart attack the meek Dwarf scowled at his one and only customer. "Do you really have to do that every time?" he snapped angrily as Bjorn looked down at the much shorter male, almost breaking his neck in the process.
"Forgive me Sindri, but you make it far too easy." he chuckled lightly folding his arms across his chest smugly much to the little mans annoyance.
Shaking his head in disapproval, Sindri dropped his hammer and the piece of steel work making sure that they were tucked well away as he trotted up the bench looking at what to him seemed to be a pile of scrap steel. "What is this?" he sighed placing his gloved hands against his hips questionably.
Bjorn raised a single on of his thick eyebrows, sensing the Dwarven smiths apprehension towards the gift. "Thought you could use the steel. Gods know you could need it out here." he concluded almost proud of himself at the haul.
Hesitantly the reached forward picking up one of the broken blades with his thumb and pointer finger. "Did it ever occur... ugh... oh my... To clean them first?" he gagged dropping it again as he spotted the dried blood and grime stepping back and quickly taking a breath.
"Steel is steel Sindri, it does not matter whether clean or dirty. So long as it cuts then its useful." he grunted in annoyance at the Dwarfs extreme cleanliness.
Looking up at the tall Aesir, Sindri waved his finger at Bjorn, "I know that, but this stuff? All of its scrap. In fact its probably more worthless." he said rather calmly with a slight hint of annoyance.
Grimly the warrior grunted to himself, "Alright then, I'm sure your brother would appreciate the materials. And that discount he offered is just too hard to pass up." he sighed mockingly snatching up the weapons and stepping away with his back turned to Sindri, a smirk spread across his lips as he waited for the Dwarfs pride to get the better of him.
Strutting away rather slowly he waited as seconds passed, while Sindri fought the urge to try and upstage his equally as talented smith. "Hold on! Hold on! I'll take them off your hands. How much?" he questioned trotting in front of the man stooping him dead in his false tracks.
Bjorn took a moment to consider, the former general already knew they were indeed worthless but really just wanted to some fun with his friend. "Hmm, I'd say... Perhaps, seven hundred Silver?" he hummed.
The Dwarf knitted his busy eyebrows together in shock as he froze for a brief second. "Seven hun- What do you take me for?! I have standards, unlike you or Brok." he practically screeched horrified by the Warriors poor haggling skills.
"Your lose is his gain. Farewell." he chortled stomping back towards where he docked, still enjoying as the Dwarf squirmed anxiously.
Dumbfounded, Sindri's arms fell to his side as he resisted the urge to break while watching the tower of man strut away confidently. "Alright! Okay! Seven hundred it is..." he conceded, Bjorn suddenly twisted on his heels and walked back dropping the weapons back on the table only for him to begin on his way once again much to Sindri's confusion.
"Uh don't you want it?" he stuttered holding out the bag of silver.
Sauntering away Bjorn waved farewell to the blacksmith, "I know they're worthless, old friend. Dump them, use them. I couldn't care less." He chuckled disappearing through the large crumbling portcullis.
"Give Freya my regards... Please, thank you!" he called out watching as the warrior waved and disappeared from sight.
After a rather short and uneventful boat ride back to his and Freya's beloved Sanctuary, he docked the small yet sturdy canoe alone the bank behind a beautiful towering thick oak tree, situated on a small concave of what looked like rocks. "Hemili!" he shouted as his deep voice echoed amongst the autumn leaved trees.
Coming to a stop, the ground began shaking violently as the mound rose from its resting place. Deep groans echoed as it did so and large moss covered legs of an oversized tortoise came into view right when the tremors stopped. Smirking Bjorn strolled to the front of the beast to enter the lodging he called home buried beneath.
The large docile creature spotted Bjorn as it lowered its impossibly large scale armoured head, its large reptilian eyes locked ono him as he reached out and patted his gloved hand against the rough exposed chin of the calm guardian. "It's good to see you too Chaurli. I told you it wouldn't take long." he uttered soothing the beast which had kindly allowed he and his lover to inhabit the abode below away from Odin's prying eyes.
Entering through the door moulded into Chaurli's carapace the weary warrior set his shield and bow beside the door, unclipping his belt and leaning the precious blade against the timber enforced wall. The gentle tapping and clanking of a mortar and pestle caught his attention as he snapped his head upwards glancing up the small set of three steps towards the alchemy set upon the table.
A woman stood with her back turned towards him, her woven light brown dress unmistakable in the light which poured forth through the window next to her work station revealing the faded tattoos riding down her arms and wrapping themselves around her fingers.
"Freya." he called out breaking the established peace inside their humble home catching her attention immediately as she turned, eyes landing on the beaten warrior.
Still with the mortar in hand she dipped down the steps gracefully, her days as Odin's bride still not lost on her. "Did you find them? The Mugwort." She clarified hoping the less than skilled alchemist had remembered her request.
Bjorn sighed reaching into the small pouch with his large hand, careful not to crush the valuable ingredient. "I did, this dammed well better work this time." he groaned dropping the herb into her grateful palm she held out.
"It should, but please my love don't be disappointed if it doesn't." The Goddess all but begged as she wisped herself back to her workstation. "Sit." she motioned to the wooden chair which sat close by the open fire nearest the back door.
Doing as he was told Bjorn sat down the chair much to small for his figure, the rickety piece of furniture creaked under his weight but still managed to with stand the onslaught ceasing the noise soon after. Leaning his arm against his knee he unwound the straps securing his gauntlet pulling it off gently to reveal the bandage on his wrist.
Pausing for a brief moment the Aesir stared at it, the voices of the damned which plagued his dreams flooded his mind. Shutting his eyes tightly trying to stave off the memories as they scratched their way out from the depths, the screams of the dying on the battlefield filling his ears only to be torn away by a soft hand locking his own. "Bjorn. It's all right, I'm here." she said snapping him from his daydream.
Setting the small blow to the side, Freya softly undone the bandage. Revealing the blackened root-like rot scolded into his skin beneath, observing the corruptions slow spread the woman hummed to herself inquisitively reaching down a lathering her finger tips in the newest concoction. Rubbing gently on the affected area, trying not to hurt him as best she could.
Bjorn's arm twitched sensitively as he hissed slightly in pain, clenching his large fist. "Be careful, dammit." he growled angrily, hating every moment of being babied by the witch.
"You've survived worse love, the painful parts almost over." She scoffed playfully finishing her work and changing the dressing, both her warm hands rested on his for a brief moment as their eyes met.
"Thank you." he grunted gratefully placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, the woman smiled at the small show for affection, she herself leaning up to return the gesture and after she did so Freya stood to her feet leaving the former general to his thoughts. Thoughts of the home he had not seen in a century, although they were not accompanied with happy memories of his fellow Aesir but rather the fire and blood of constant war. Being used as an attack dog bound to Odin's will with no other choice but to capitulate to the manipulators demands. Killing without a second and never asking why.
Years of loyal service torn away because of one single moment of independent thought. Leading him to make a choice which set him down the path of misery he now found himself bound to for eternity. But perhaps, one day he could finally enact the one thing he had wanted since his former master left him for dead in the snow and ice of Midgard. And that, was Vengeance.