Frode Ulfson was the commander of the armies of Gata. A large 6’4’’ tall beast of a man with arms like tree trunks. Wild red hair, and an untameable flaming red beard flowed down his head, a single braid in both his beard and hair. Only 26 years old, he was quite young to be commanding an army, but, having proven himself in many battles over the last eight years he rose the ranks quickly. Frode was legend in Gata for his inhuman strength and superior battlefield tactics.
Frode was the proud father of his 9 year old son Erik, that he had raised together with his wife Tora. Frode wasn’t always a great father, but always tried his best. It wasn’t his fault, he himself had never known his real parents. His parents abandoned him when he was a mere baby, leaving him at the doorstep of the local wolf tamer. Therefore, Frode spent the majority of his youth surrounded by wild wolves. This is what gave him the name Ulfson, son of wolves. The wolf tamer, Doug, named the boy Frode, meaning ‘the wise’, for he looked in the child’s eyes and saw wisdom lurking in them.
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“Strike the sails! Man the oars!” Frode bellowed from the top of his lungs.
They were nearly home after a month long voyage. They had plundered splendidly, took much gold and silver from the east. Even though many good men fell during battle, the galleys sank deeper into the water than when they left, and spirits were high. Under Frode’s command the vikings of Gata managed to haul the largest plunder in many years. This wealth could make Gata one of the most important cities in Jutland.
Frode was positively beaming, it wouldn’t be long now until he could embrace Tora and Erik again. His incredibly good mood soon vanished when he saw large plumes of smoke in the far distance. It seemed to be coming from the direction of Gata.
Now imagine you're Frode for a moment... What would you do?
[[Awh Hell nawh, I'm turning the F around!]]
[[CHARGE INTO BATTLE!]] “Vikings! Arm yourself!” ordered Frode to his men. “Prepare for battle!”
As they neared the city of Gata, the smoke seemed to increase. When the city was in sight, all that was visible was fire and smoke. No sign of intruders, and by the looks of it the fire had been raging for quite some time already. Frode let out a long, aggressive roar of frustration. He saw that most of the buildings were on fire, and the ones that weren’t were merely smouldering ruins of glory gone up in flames. Before the ships were even docked, Frode leapt from the deck into the shallow water and sprinted to his house. Not a single one of his possessions was spared in the wake of the destruction. Nothing but ash and dust remained. Frode couldn’t find his wife, nor son, anywhere. The other warriors followed Frode’s example and started searching for survivors, but to no avail. That night the vikings regrouped in the smouldering remains of what they had once called home, heartbroken and exhausted. Frode was livid, and rightfully so. That night he swore to one day get vengeance on the man that inflicted this misery upon his people.
“Sooner or later I will find out who did this to us. That’s a promise. And their punishment will be fitting for the crime committed. They will beg for a Blood Eagling, as that will be less sinister than what I’ll do to them. By the Gods I will have my revenge. By the Gods they will suffer. I curse thee, destroyer of worlds, may you never see the great halls of Valhalla.” Frode spoke to his men calmly and clearly. But those that saw his eyes saw a malicious fire burning deep inside that they had not seen previously, and a sense of imminent doom come over them.
Frode is the leader of a strong army, in an important city... What do you think has happened to his wife and child?
[[Clearly they got kidnapped!]]
[[No other possibility than that they're dead!]] Frode and his Vikings slowly approached the smoke that had erupted from Gata. This was not safe was his first thought, they should turn around. They have no information about the dangers that could reside in Gata right now. What if it is an ambush and there is an entire army awaiting them? “Vikings! We must turn around now” Frode ordered his men “Retreat to Thornby!” Thornby is a city near Gata, their Vikings and Gata’s Vikings are allies. They should gear up there and lead the Vikings of Thornby to Gata. The galleys tried to turn around but the stream of water wasn't wide enough to allow these massive ships to maneuver freely. “Men!” Frode roared, “We must face Gata on our own!”
[[CHARGE INTO BATTLE!]] Frode had awoken the next day, he had barely slept. He would find whoever was responsible for the destruction of their village. He started his day by praying to the Gods for a sign, any sign at all. No sign could be heard nor seen, but Frode would not give up hope. Some of his men were still sleeping as they had stayed up in shifts in case of another attack. The men who were awake started clearing the village, they searched for anything useful. Any piece of clothing that has not been turned into a pile of ash. Any food that could still be consumed. Anything for them to gather and take with them on their journey to the King of Jutland. As Frode searched the remains of his house he stumbled upon a letter that was pinned to a remaining pillar of his house with a knife. He pocketed the knife and folded the letter open and read.
“You should not have raided my town. If you ever want to see your family again you shall bring me 2,000 gold pieces and a strong pack of working dogs - Myrkr”
The name sounded familiar, but he had raided so many towns in his years as commander. Wait.. Could it be who he thinks it is? Frode had once raided a town, but this town had these small beasts wandering around. They were yelling or even roaring at his army of Vikings. Could those beasts have been dogs? They had murdered them without even giving them a second glance when they raided the town. He knew exactly where to go, all he had to do was wait for his men to be rested so they could start their journey away from Gata.
Frode gathered his men and sent them to the capital of Jutland, Oslo, with a letter from him donating his army of fierce warriors to the King of Jutland. Frode himself went on a quest to find whoever was to blame for destroying his city, together with all the women and children. His first stop of the journey would be to visit the seer Anakk Inn, to inquire about his future. Some days of travel passed which was not an issue in the slightest as Frode was well adapted to living off the land.
[[Let's see the seer]] After returning to Gata, Frode sent his men to the capital of Jutland, Oslo, with a letter from him donating his army of fierce warriors to the King of Jutland. Frode himself would proceed on a quest to find whoever was to blame for destroying his city, together with all the women and children. They would pay for what they had done or he would finally be reunited with his family again. He was longing to hold his wife and son again. Tora was a powerful shieldmaiden and would not go down with a fight. That is something he had known for sure. Frode had taught his son Erik to fight already and his blood flowed through his son, he would definitely have fought too. As the son of the commander there was a huge weight on his shoulders and an even bigger place to fill once his father would die in battle and go to Valhalla. That is why they started his training at a young age. He was a good fighter for his age, but he was no match for full grown warriors just yet of course. Frode packed up his last remaining belongings and started his journey to the village he had once destroyed. He was cautious, he was all alone, so it was most important to not run into a large group of fighters along the way.
[[The moment of truth...]] He strapped his axe to his belt, held his sword in his right hand and his shield in his left hand. He was ready in case of a fight. He slowly approached the town. There were burn marks everywhere, trees did not grow in town anymore and houses were crumbled down. It was a sight that Frode had seen many times before, most recently nearly a day ago when he last had seen his hometown Gata. He made his way through the crumbled-down houses and shops until he stumbled upon a town square. The town square was the only place still intact. The gallows had not been burned down as there was brick surrounding it. He took a closer look at the gallows as he approached them. It almost seemed like there were 2 bodies hanging from them. He blinked his eyes hoping he could get a better look at it. Frode was tired of traveling, but he would do anything for his family. He took a few steps until he could clearly see two lifeless bodies hanging there. He gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles turned stark white and started sprinting to the bodies, rage flaring up inside of him, giving him wings.
It could not be true.. he thought. As he stood on the gallows tears now flowed down his cheeks. It was true. Frode’s biggest nightmare just became reality. His wife and son were hung from the gallows. He cried while hugging the remains of Tora and Erik. “May the Gods damn you and never let you into Valhalla!” he bellowed to the sky, tears burning his eyes. In his utter distress he did not notice the short sword and dagger, along with a small puddle of blood underneath the feet of his deceased loved ones. Once he calmed down a bit he took down the bodies and carried them to the shoreline. He would send them off properly, give them the Viking funeral they deserved. He gathered strong logs and long ropes. He built a solid raft, put Tora and Erik on it and decorated them with flowers, some of his gold and laid some weapons and two shields next to them which he found in the only remaining building that still stood erect. He made the lifeless bodies of his wife and son hold hands and with one last kiss on their foreheads he pushed the raft into the water. He set the raft ablaze before pushing it hard into the water. Watching his family float away he swore vengeance. "I will find you, Myrkr, and when I'm done with you, you'll wish that I'd simply blood eagled you... May you never dine at the great table with the Gods."
Frode turned around and started walking. The first stop on his journey would be to visit the seer Anakk Inn, to inquire about his future. Some days of travel passed which was not an issue in the slightest as Frode was well adapted to living off the land...
[[Let's see the seer]] Just outside the hamlet of Andivegr, where all the wise stargazers lived, was the hut in which the greatest seer in Jutland lived, Anakk Inn. Upon reaching the seer’s hut, Frode was beckoned inside by a thin voice from within the hut. The man spoke in a shrill, faint voice, that rattled harshly with every breath the man took. “Frode Ulfson… come in, do not hesitate outside in the cold.”
Frode hesitates. He hasn’t actually met Anakk before, so he is unaware of what the seer looked and sounded like. The thin voice pierced his heart with worry. Is that really what a seer would sound like? What if the people who destroyed Gata had also reached Andivegr? It could be a trap...
[[That voice sounds trustworthy enough, let's enter!]]
[[I don't trust this, let me first draw my weapon and prepare to fight. I will first listen for clues outside the door...]] Anakk was aware of his arrival, a good omen. Frode entered the tiny hut, where he had to constantly duck down not to bump his head on the ceiling.
[[Let's sit down...]] Frode silently drew his axe from his belt, suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings. He tries to listen for ‘Anakk’ on the other side of the door but doesn’t hear anything. Is the figure on the other side of the door keeping silent on purpose? Suddenly, the door opens by itself. On the other side of the door is a frail-looking man, somewhat annoyed looking. The seer’s voice rings in Frode’s ears, but his lips do not move. ‘‘Is this how you plan to meet me for the first time, Frode Ulfson? Lower your weapon. My hut is too small for such foolery.’’
[[Let's sit down...]] “You have come to learn about your future, am I correct?” the seer muttered.
Before Frode could answer he continued. “It is unwise to long for answers in the future, for the future is not set in stone. Outcomes may change, and prophecies altered. They call you the wise one, then why have you come to see me?”
Frode looked incredulously at the seer, slightly flustered by his words. “I want to know if I’ll get revenge on my enemy. Someone burned…” “down your town and left none alive…” interrupted Anakk, “I know, I can see it in your eyes.” Anakk looked at Frode so sharply, it felt like he was looking straight into his soul. “You carry a lot of rage with you… If not controlled properly, it could grab a hold of you and never let go. There’s contempt in your bones, rage in your blood, and grief in your heart. Your soul is burning, and your mind is clouded.’’
Frode grows frustrated with Anakk’s disrespect. He feels his muscles tighten and his vision goes blurry with anger. This seer isn’t going to help him, is he? He clenches his fist and…
[[Keep a level head, stay calm. You need this seer's advice and anger will not make him more likely to help...]]
[[‘‘Enough! I did not come here to be insulted and have the obvious stated to me. I am leaving’’ and leaves.]] I will leave you with only one piece of advice, which should be all you need. "//Even the wisest of Gods falter when they lose their vision.//” Anakk Inn stared at Frode for several minutes, not moving his lips, nor blinking once. Frode took this as a sign to take his leave.
During the weeks that followed, Frode wandered in the wild constantly pondering the words of wisdom uttered by Anakk Inn. He was no longer used to being puzzled, as he had been the wisest man in his community for years. Yet, these words baffled him. So straightforward yet so ambiguous, he marvelled at the words of the seer. On his travels, he met many people, spoke to them, and learnt what he could. His already vast wisdom increased steadily in the years that followed, still a blindsight remained in his mind. He often wondered if the words of the seer meant he should not pursue vengeance on his family and home, which he believed to be his destiny. One day he met another lost soul, an elf druid, who would change his views on the world greatly.
[[What's that I hear?]] Frode barges out the door, too riled up to hear the seer mutter under his breath with a disapproving shake of his head. Frode feels defeated; where is he supposed to go now? With no advanced path, he wanders to the next town over. On the way there, he runs into a man blocking his path. ‘‘Stop!’’ the man yells. Frode knew this was an ambush but due to his earlier encounter, was too angry to notice the man before. From the corner of his eyes, he can see figures with bows and crossbows reveal themselves, their weapons trained on him. From the look of their positions, there was no way he was going to get out of this without being struck at least once. The man before him smirked slightly. ‘‘I know that look in your eyes. You’re a man who has lost someone recently, haven’t you? Well, well, you’re in luck! We’ve come to release you from all those possessions that you have surplus now that they’re gone’’. The figures around Frode laugh. He recognizes this lot as bandits. Before he left Gata, men like these would be pulverized in an instant. But now? After the unpleasant encounter with the seer, Frode felt disheartened. What should he do?
[[Fight the bandits! There’s only so many of them and Frode is a big, strong man with experience. Surely, he can handle a couple of thugs. ]]
[[Run away! These bandits seem too large in number for Frode right now and he is quick on his feet. ]]
[[Give the bandits what they want, he doesn’t have much on him anyway. ]] Frode freezes, analysing his surroundings. As a commander of armies and someone raised amongst wolves, he had an impeccable sense of danger and tactics in battle. He once survived an ambush of 20 men, but a lot of luck was involved, and he did not kill all of them himself. The man yells out at him to put his hands up, but Frode doesn’t even listen. Immediately, he sprints into a bush and dives for the nearest ranger aiming at him. The ranger did not have enough time to react or fire, and because he ducked into the bush the others did not have a clear target. Frode knocked his current enemy out with a swift punch and grabbed his crossbow. Frode has held many in his lifetime, so this was a piece of cake. He fired at another ranger on a ledge, one he would not be able to reach as quickly, then reloaded the weapon while taking cover. The other rangers fired at him but didn’t seem to hit him, as they had poor visibility on Frode. He dashed out while the rangers were reloading, and fired at another man but missed, hitting the tree beside him instead. Having run out of arrows, he used the crossbow as a throwing weapon to stun the person in front of him, then took out his greatsword and with a mighty swing pierced the now prone man through his stomach and into the ground beneath him, essentially pinning him down. Frode felt an arrow pierce his shoulder, but he paid it no mind. He quickly ran to the other bandit he had missed before, and with a swift motion yanked the arrow out of the tree, using it to pierce the bandit’s throat. Two targets remained. Frode ducked as another arrow flew in his direction; he now knew the position of the last ranger. He took out his axe and with a great gesture, swung it 20 feet towards them. It hit the female ranger straight in the chest. He saw the last bandit, the man who yelled at him, approach him now that he was visibly weaponless. ‘‘Fool’’, he thought to himself. From his back, he took his shield to block the shortsword the bandit swung at him, then knocked him prone with a shield bash. Frode takes the shield in both hands and uses the rim to cave in the skull of the bandit. Frode pants with exhaustion. He won, but he has an arrow wound in his shoulder and he needs to rest. He also has grown wearier of the road.
[[No choice but to move forward then...]] Frode thinks about his options. He just lost everything. His house, his family, his only guidance… He throws up his hands and lets the bandit leader approach. He rifles through Frode’s possessions but only finds some camping gear, a greatsword, a great axe, a shield and 5 gold. Disappointed in the loot, the bandit leader almost takes pity on Frode. He takes the gold and camping gear and says ‘‘We’ll let you live this time, but the next time you deliver such a measly bounty, we will kill you’’. Morally defeated, Frode stands and waits until the bandits slink back into the shadows, then carries on with his journey.
[[No choice but to move forward then...]] Frode, in his current mindset, immediately turns heel and tries to run into cover, only to be hit with 6 different arrows in his back. This knocks him prone for long enough that the man who stopped him can catch up to him, pin him to the ground and say ‘‘Time to meet your loved one!’’ before slicing his throat. Frode is dead.
Perhaps Frode should have made a different choice... If only we could revert time to try again...Frode feels lost and anxious after the bandit encounter. He needs his revenge on the people that burned down Gata, no matter what it will cost him. One day, while strolling on a path unknown, he hears a voice...
“Hail and well met, fellow traveller.” The soft, serene elven voice spoke. Frode did not see the person the voice belonged to, but strangely that didn’t bother him. The voice somehow soothed him, made him feel warm and welcome. Usually hearing voices without seeing the person would be reason enough for him to brandish his arms, ready to deal with any threat that the voice could entail. In this instance, however, Frode did not.
“I can see you’re puzzled, friend” the deep, calm voice spoke. “Who are you, and where are you hiding, stranger?” Frode asked, sounding much more at ease than he meant to. “I’m not hiding friend. You merely don’t look well enough into nature to see me. Open your eyes for more than the road, and your soul will follow.” Frode glared into the line of trees and plants beside the road. In front of his eyes one of the trees appeared to be moving and morphed into a man. “What manner of witchcraft did I just witness?” Frode exclaimed. “No witchcraft at all, friend. You merely opened your soul to nature and witnessed my true form.”
[[I don't mess with witchcraft, I'm out of here!]]
[[Hmmm... let's hear what this stranger has to say...]] Frode looked quizzically at the stranger. He had never seen such visual trickery in his many travels. Yet, he still felt quite at ease, which puzzled him even further. See, for Frode was a wise man, he was also quite suspicious in nature. An important feat to stay alive in this world, it helped him not to be surprised or ambushed easily. It seemed to Frode that this stranger could read his mind like Anakk Inn could cause he spoke in his voice like a calm stream on a pleasant summer’s day: “You wonder why you’re not more afraid of me… Why you’ve not grabbed your axe, or prepared yourself for a fight in any way…”
With an air of indignation Frode said: “It’s because I’m never afraid, stranger.”
“Of course not”. The stranger continued. “You’re merely suspicious of your surroundings at all times because you’re a well-prepared person. It can’t have to do with an old trauma of sorts. That would simply be ridiculous.”
Frode was slowly losing his patience with the stranger, the calming effect seemed to wear off slightly as Frode felt insulted by the man. “What do you want, and who are you?” Frode uttered irritably.
Frode turns on his heels and starts walking, he is not ready to deal with some holier-than-thou elf that will want to impart his 'wisdom' on Frode. However, after an hour of walking Frode hears the exact same voice saying the exact same thing. Frode looks around bewildered and to his great surprise this piece of forest looks strangely familiar... Like he's been here before... Was he really walking in circles without him noticing in the slightest? that had never happened before... And there in between the bushes the same strange elf materialised! What to do now?
[[Keep walking, I'm not interested in the tale this elf has to tell!]]
[[alright then, let's hear him out.]] While walking on a forest path Frode hears an unknown voice coming from the line of trees.
“Hail and well met, fellow traveller.” The soft, serene elven voice spoke. Frode did not see the person the voice belonged to, but strangely that didn’t bother him. The voice somehow soothed him, made him feel warm and welcome. Usually hearing voices without seeing the person would be reason enough for him to brandish his arms, ready to deal with any threat that the voice could entail. In this instance, however, Frode did not.
“I can see you’re puzzled, friend” the deep, calm voice spoke. “Who are you, and where are you hiding, stranger?” Frode asked, sounding much more at ease than he meant to. “I’m not hiding friend. You merely don’t look well enough into nature to see me. Open your eyes for more than the road, and your soul will follow.” Frode glared into the line of trees and plants beside the road. In front of his eyes one of the trees appeared to be moving and morphed into a man. “What manner of witchcraft did I just witness?” Frode exclaimed. “No witchcraft at all, friend. You merely opened your soul to nature and witnessed my true form.”
[[I don't mess with witchcraft, I'm out of here!]]
[[Hmmm... let's hear what this stranger has to say...]] Frode looked quizzically at the stranger. He had never seen such visual trickery in his many travels. Yet, he still felt quite at ease, which puzzled him even further. See, for Frode was a wise man, he was also quite suspicious in nature. An important feat to stay alive in this world, it helped him not to be surprised or ambushed easily. It seemed to Frode that this stranger could read his mind like Anakk Inn could cause he spoke in his voice like a calm stream on a pleasant summer’s day: “You wonder why you’re not more afraid of me… Why you’ve not grabbed your axe, or prepared yourself for a fight in any way…”
With an air of indignation Frode said: “It’s because I’m never afraid, stranger.”
“Of course not”. The stranger continued. “You’re merely suspicious of your surroundings at all times because you’re a well-prepared person. It can’t have to do with an old trauma of sorts. That would simply be ridiculous.”
Frode was slowly losing his patience with the stranger, the calming effect seemed to wear off slightly as Frode felt insulted by the man. “What do you want, and who are you?” Frode uttered irritably.
“My name is Kieran, Kieran Vanellis. And I merely want to confer with you for a short while if that’s alright with you of course. I believe I can aid you, and you me in return.”
Frode squinted slightly, trying not to believe the elf, which proved impossible at this given moment. After a moment’s consideration he said: “alright. What can I do for you?”
“Let’s sit down on this fallen tree here, you’ll find the moss is quite soft and comfortable. Perfect for conversation and resting.”
Frode sat down, and strangely, all the tiredness and ache he felt in his body from traveling the wild outdoors for so long on his own seemed to flow from his bones and was replaced by a warm sensation of comfort. A branch started growing from the presumably dead tree trunk and a bunch of beautiful pink and purple flowers spontaneously blossomed. Frode stared at these in awe and heard the elf mutter under his breath; “hmm, pain, interesting…” Frode chose not to inquire about this, in a strange way he understood. He understood that the tree had sapped the ache from his body and transformed his ‘pain’ into those flowers. He assumed that this was a form of magic wielded by the elf, albeit a form of magic Frode had never encountered.
“So…” The elf continued with a kind tone, while he sat down besides Frode, a bunch of white, slightly glowing flowers forming on the tree around where he was seated. “how’s your vision?”
“Fine” Frode answered. “I can clearly see and read that sign in the distance. My sight is as clear as it’s always been.”
“I did not ask you about your sight, friend” Kieran answered with a soft smile. “I asked you about your vision.”
"This elf is talking in riddles!" Frode thought, "can't he just plainly say what he means?"
[[Ask the elf to speak more plainly]]
[[He must have his reasons... Let's try and decipher what he says...]] Frode didn't meet anyone anymore for the rest of the day, nor did he walk in circles. When night fell Frode set up camp and lit a campfire. He was quite hungry and thirsty by now, so he opened his rations. He pulled out some of his last dried meat. "hmpf, need to hunt tomorrow". The salty, dry, gamey meat reminded Frode he hadn't drank a drop of water since he left on his journey. He reached for his flask, but where he was sure there was a flask on his belt, he now felt nothing. Frantically Frode started sifting through his rucksack, but to no avail. He needed water quite badly, how could he have been foolish? Never had he lost his flask or forgotten to drink, the distress of the past days must have been too much for him and he did not think clearly anymore. Panicked, Frode started looking for water, but in the dark that was nigh impossible. He regularly to listen for any sound that would lead him to water, but the only thing he could hear was his own breathing and the slight rustle of small nocturnal animals nearby. Frode searched for hours and hours, all through the night. By the time the sun came up, Frode's sight was blurry and vertigo had overtaken him. He dropped to his knees, crawling with the last remainder of his strength. There in the distance, that looked like a pool didn't it? He dragged himself forward but seemed to not get any closer to the pool of glistening, refreshing water. All went black for Frode's eyes and his breathing seized. He never got up again...
Perhaps Frode should have made a different choice... If only we could revert time to try again..."Please just say what you mean elf! I am in no mood for riddles and mysteries. Speak plainly if you want me to listen." Frode said with an some annoyance in his voice.
"If you think I'm speaking in riddles, you're not listening my friend. I don't need you to listen..." Kieran put a clear emphasis on the word 'need', "But you'd do wise to hear me out... Will you?"
[[I'm more than done listening to this elf, he's tested my patience too much. I'll end him!]]
[[I'm done listening, I'm walking away!]]
[[Alright then, Kieran, What more do you have to say?]] Frode looked at Kieran with some confusion. “Then I must admit I’m not entirely certain what you mean Kieran.”
“That’s quite alright” Kieran answered calmly. “I will explain. Your vision is much more than just what you see. It’s all that you can see in your mind’s eye. The past, present, future, and the ability to connect these to each other in a logical way, and then learning from that. True, clear vision will allow you to use your past experiences and current knowledge to predict the future in a sense. It will also allow you to be a quick judge of character, a great tactician, and so much more. A clouded vision will allow you to still be great at some aspects, but not nearly close to everything your mind can achieve.”
The words of Kieran entered Frode’s brain, it made a lot of sense yet gave Frode more questions than answers, which he told Kieran.
“Good. If ever you have more answers than questions, either you’ll be close to all-knowing or completely and utterly daft. Odin, the God of Knowledge, has more questions now than he ever had, and he gave literally gave his eye in pursuit of knowledge. He knows that all he needs are questions, and upon answering them, create more. His knowledge is ever expanding because he doesn’t fear questions, he welcomes them with open arms. To put in into words that Thor, the God of thunder and strongest of all the Aesir, would understand: You can only become stronger by exerting your muscles, damaging them slightly to let them be built anew stronger than they ever were.”
“I understand.” Said Frode, his mind racing. His thoughts went hither and thither, contemplating the words of Kieran, taking them to heart and, as he suggested, inviting in the questions that came to him. The words of Anakk Inn came to Frode and he though he now understood them better “Even the wisest of Gods falter when they lose their vision.”
“I can tell you’re a quick learner” said Kieran pleased with the befuddled look on Frode’s face. “You’re already taking my words to heart.”
“I am.” Answered Frode “I must step out of my comfort zone, explore myself, and broaden my mind.”
“Indeed, you must” Kieran answered with a grin. “I have one last piece of advice, and it goes as follows: Anger, rage, and aggression all cloud one’s vision, and you have a lot of it. I advise you to lay down your arms. Survive without needless aggression, don’t fight if you don’t have to. There’ll come a time where fighting is inevitable, when your mind is well adapted and ready to wield your strength rather than being wielded by it. At that time you’ll be ready to rule, to pick up arms, to fight, to seek vengeance if you must. If that’s the conclusion you draw. But beware, wield your physical power too soon and you’ll be very susceptible to a variety of dark magic that could make your life a living hell.” Kieran moved closer and started speaking with a strange, wavy air in his voice. “I warn thee, Frode Ulfson, You could do great things. You could even be greater than the Gods. But the higher someone can rise, the lower they can fall. So I bid thee be careful. Do not underestimate your power, do not underestimate your influence. You can do great things, be it for better or worse.”
And with these words Kieran stood up, and walked into the forest.
“Wait!” Frode bellowed after him. “You needed my help for something. What was it?”
The last thing Frode could hear from Kieran before he blended in with the forest, becoming one with nature, were the words: “If you follow my advice, you’ll change the world for the better. If you do so, you’ll have helped me more than anyone else ever could…”
Frode set up camp, as it was getting late, and stayed the night in this piece of forest that had Kieran’s calming magical effect still filling the air. After the best night’s rest he had ever had, Frode continued on his travels, adventuring to acquire knowledge and discover himself.
Frode looked at Kieran with some confusion. “Then I must admit I’m not entirely certain what you mean Kieran.”
“That’s quite alright” Kieran answered calmly. “I will explain. Your vision is much more than just what you see. It’s all that you can see in your mind’s eye. The past, present, future, and the ability to connect these to each other in a logical way, and then learning from that. True, clear vision will allow you to use your past experiences and current knowledge to predict the future in a sense. It will also allow you to be a quick judge of character, a great tactician, and so much more. A clouded vision will allow you to still be great at some aspects, but not nearly close to everything your mind can achieve.”
The words of Kieran entered Frode’s brain, it made a lot of sense yet gave Frode more questions than answers, which he told Kieran.
“Good. If ever you have more answers than questions, either you’ll be close to all-knowing or completely and utterly daft. Odin, the God of Knowledge, has more questions now than he ever had, and he gave literally gave his eye in pursuit of knowledge. He knows that all he needs are questions, and upon answering them, create more. His knowledge is ever expanding because he doesn’t fear questions, he welcomes them with open arms. To put in into words that Thor, the God of thunder and strongest of all the Aesir, would understand: You can only become stronger by exerting your muscles, damaging them slightly to let them be built anew stronger than they ever were.”
“I understand.” Said Frode, his mind racing. His thoughts went hither and thither, contemplating the words of Kieran, taking them to heart and, as he suggested, inviting in the questions that came to him. The words of Anakk Inn came to Frode and he though he now understood them better “Even the wisest of Gods falter when they lose their vision.”
“I can tell you’re a quick learner” said Kieran pleased with the befuddled look on Frode’s face. “You’re already taking my words to heart.”
“I am.” Answered Frode “I must step out of my comfort zone, explore myself, and broaden my mind.”
“Indeed, you must” Kieran answered with a grin. “I have one last piece of advice, and it goes as follows: Anger, rage, and aggression all cloud one’s vision, and you have a lot of it. I advise you to lay down your arms. Survive without needless aggression, don’t fight if you don’t have to. There’ll come a time where fighting is inevitable, when your mind is well adapted and ready to wield your strength rather than being wielded by it. At that time you’ll be ready to rule, to pick up arms, to fight, to seek vengeance if you must. If that’s the conclusion you draw. But beware, wield your physical power too soon and you’ll be very susceptible to a variety of dark magic that could make your life a living hell.” Kieran moved closer and started speaking with a strange, wavy air in his voice. “I warn thee, Frode Ulfson, You could do great things. You could even be greater than the Gods. But the higher someone can rise, the lower they can fall. So I bid thee be careful. Do not underestimate your power, do not underestimate your influence. You can do great things, be it for better or worse.”
And with these words Kieran stood up, and walked into the forest.
“Wait!” Frode bellowed after him. “You needed my help for something. What was it?”
The last thing Frode could hear from Kieran before he blended in with the forest, becoming one with nature, were the words: “If you follow my advice, you’ll change the world for the better. If you do so, you’ll have helped me more than anyone else ever could…”
Frode set up camp, as it was getting late, and stayed the night in this piece of forest that had Kieran’s calming magical effect still filling the air. After the best night’s rest he had ever had, Frode continued on his travels, adventuring to acquire knowledge and discover himself.Frode got up from the trunk, feeling its magical effects leave his body immediately, and the ache crept into his bones once more. Nevertheless, Frode started walking.
Frode didn't meet anyone anymore for the rest of the day, nor did he walk in circles. When night fell Frode set up camp and lit a campfire. He was quite hungry and thirsty by now, so he opened his rations. He pulled out some of his last dried meat. "hmpf, need to hunt tomorrow". The salty, dry, gamey meat reminded Frode he hadn't drank a drop of water since he left on his journey. He reached for his flask, but where he was sure there was a flask on his belt, he now felt nothing. Frantically Frode started sifting through his rucksack, but to no avail. He needed water quite badly, how could he have been foolish? Never had he lost his flask or forgotten to drink, the distress of the past days must have been too much for him and he did not think clearly anymore. Panicked, Frode started looking for water, but in the dark that was nigh impossible. He regularly to listen for any sound that would lead him to water, but the only thing he could hear was his own breathing and the slight rustle of small nocturnal animals nearby. Frode searched for hours and hours, all through the night. By the time the sun came up, Frode's sight was blurry and vertigo had overtaken him. He dropped to his knees, crawling with the last remainder of his strength. There in the distance, that looked like a pool didn't it? He dragged himself forward but seemed to not get any closer to the pool of glistening, refreshing water. All went black for Frode's eyes and his breathing seized. He never got up again...
Perhaps Frode should have made a different choice... If only we could revert time to try again...Frode got up and pulled his sword. Without a word of warning he drove the sword into Kieran's chest. Kieran's eyes became so wide with shock they looked like they would pop out of his sockets at any moment. Frode twisted the sword and Kieran started gagging, his oak brown shirt turning dark with his blood. With a gargling sound blood started flowing from his mouth. Kieran clearly tried to utter some last words but they were lost to the ether, not being able to be made audible as a thick stream of blood ran down his windpipe and filled his lungs. Frode pulled out his swords and with a last, gurgling gasp Kieran fell to the ground, eyes still open in shock horror, not moving a muscle. Frode cleaned his sword on a piece of Kieran's garment that was not yet soaked in his blood and spit on his face. "Idiotic elf!" he muttered angrily.
Frode wanted to continue his journey but he hadn't set two steps when a voice came thundering from the heavens, it sounded strangely familiar... "Father!" The noise made by the voice shook the ground and blew over several large trees. Frode's eardrums were immediately blown out and a harsh ringing replaced the bellowing voice. Frode looked up, blood now pouring from his eyes. With one eye he saw the largest lightning bolt he ever saw, it seemed to be coming straight for him! Frode jumped to avoid it but the bolt of lightning seemed to be honed in on him. It hit Frode and a searing pain went through him, only for a second, and then he fell to the ground shaking. Two last rasping breaths marked the end of our Viking warrior as Thor, the God of Thunder, had smote Frode for killing... the allfather Odin...