Sveinshaven - Good Aligned Viking-based RP tribe.
Quote:
It may have been the mushrooms. Not much else could be found to eat besides the little green fungi clinging to my cave’s glistening stone walls. Snow lay thick outside, hiding the lake’s frozen surface and painting the landscape in harsh shades of white. Weeks had past since I’d seen a single deer.
It may have been starvation. Or sheer, utter boredom. There are only so many types of baskets one can weave using dead straw while waiting for the spring thaws. Only so many times you can sharpen a piece of scrap metal against stone. Not much to do but think. Ponder. How do I even know the word ponder?
The campfire burning weakly inside my little cave did little to dispel the crushing gloom and suffocating numbness. It barely kept the snow at bay just beyond my refuge.
Until it exploded.
The flames erupted far more violently than spitting animal fat or dry tinder should allow, billowing upwards until it scorched the cave’s low roof and flooded its interior with raw heat. I squinted against the sudden glare, struggling to see through the blaze and determine its source. Outside the snow had taken on blood red hues from the fire’s wrath. Inside the cave pulsed with waves of pressure and force.
The figure that stepped from those flames was tall and strong with pale flesh and long, golden hair. Much like my own. Black furs and straps of rusting metal did little to cover her muscular form. Bare feet stepped from the fire’s core. A spear extended from one hand, wicked blade glistening in firelight that slowly died. It pointed towards me as she spoke in a language I’d never heard but somehow understood.
“The end is complete. Little remains of the world your ancestors knew. A clean slate. The end. Ragnarok. It has claimed your memories. Erased all there was. Made room for what will be.”
I didn’t understand a thing she said. Nothing made sense. Not her appearance. Not her words. Nothing.
Then again, nothing made sense before she arrived either.
The spear lashed out and slashed across my throat in one fluid, effortless gesture. Blood filled my lungs and the world exploded in pain. Still, I could hear her words above my own gargling death when she spoke. Could feel her bare foot as it stepped on my chest and the spear’s point pricked my forehead.
“Old gods are awakening, Thora. Seeds planted in virgin soil long ago once again burrow their way towards sunlight. Follow those roots to your ancestry. Embrace ways abandoned through the generations and you will blossom. Welcome the end. Let all begin again.”
Of course I woke up face down in a puddle of my own drool. The fire had long died, leaving my cave in cold darkness. No gaping would at my throat. No half naked Valkyrie speaking nonsense towered over me. Just me in a cave.
I rolled over, found my flint and steel, and grabbed the last dry wood left for a fire. Shivering, I stirred the ashes, hoping for a few glowing coals to make life easier. Instead I found a single acorn nestled amid charred bones and blackened twigs. From its hard surface rose a green shoot.
Needless to say, it freaked me out.
I planted it anyway. You just never know.
