Post by Cornar the Black on Feb 16, 2021 18:38:18 GMT -6
A deep purple and pink sky denote dusk in Las Vegas, twinkling off the waterways of The Lakes area. Here rests the viking horde of Jarl Cornar the Black, his men and shield maidens tending to their newly built homes and storage sheds. The King and his second in command, though, are not present. No, they are a fair distance away, North of Centennial. Here, in the thick brush of the desert, the men sit with bow and arrow at the ready.
"Las Vegas does not provide plentiful game, jarl," speaks the viking.
"It does not, but we must make do. I can only gorge on so many more rabbit," responds the king, taking aim at a spot in the distance.
He steadies himself, breathes deep and exhales slow.. a large figure in the distance leaps through the air like a majestic creature of legend, coming to a halt. The viking at his jarl's side nearly leaps out until his arrow and the target are right in line. He releases, the piercing weapon screams out of the brush and across the sand and dry grass until it hits true. Right in the heart of a massive deer. The buck takes two steps, goes to hop and run off but it collapses into the ground with a crash.
"You see, a hunter knows when to wait. When to strike," grunts Cornar, standing up and beginning the march to his trophy. The long walk pays off when the king and his second reach the animal, delighted to find a bounty enough to feed their entire settlement for days on end. Cornar, though, spins a quick one eighty and kneels down, pulling his second down as well. His eyes are on the vegetation, a low snarl emits forth.
Cornar, teeth bared, reaches to his waist slowly. A mountain lion leaps from the tall grass, but is blocked and stuffed by Cornar's forearm! The armored Jotun-Sized arm of Cornar is engulfed by the large cat's jowls, but a single blow from Winterbreaker renders the feline lifeless. Cornar's second is in near hysterics, Cornar himself breathing heavy.
"A hunter also knows when his prize is set to be claimed by another," grumbles the king. He lifts the deer onto his shoulder while the second snags the cat, heading back toward their settlement.
It is well into the night now, when the jarl and his lieutenant arrive back home. They are met with a few pats on the back and handshakes, but it isn't until Cornar begins diving into the buck when the true treasure is found.
Cornar slams the carcass on a table and pulls a dagger from his boot, removing the head with ease and slamming it onto a spike on the wall, still bleeding. He makes a precision slice down the middle of the underbelly, peeling back a couple of skin flaps before SNIKT four quick movements removes the legs. The dagger returns to his boot and with his bare, drengr hands, Jarl Cornar the Black peels the torso free from skin, then does the same with all four legs like he was taking tights off. From the neck hole, Cornar plunges his arm deep inside and begins removing organs and entrails, throwing them all into a large bucket for later use.
It's a quick and merciless clean job, but the settlement is hungry. The Jarl is hungry. A roaring fire outside beside the large body of water here at The Lakes serves as a cooking location, a large stick is run through the buck and places above the flame, same with the legs. A couple of lesser men walk up to the Jarl.
"Jarl.." they trail off, as Cornar kneels at the water to wash his arm and armor of blood, "can you teach us?"
Cornar laughs, standing up and looking down upon the men.
"You two? You are but servants, peasants here in the presence of your king. Look around you, these vikingr are battle hardened and worthy of a seat at my table but you? You're lucky to get the scraps. Your flaccid arms and lack of brain between your ears will never be worth your weight in silver. What you can do, though, is send a message to the Bastard Warlord. A gift, even," Cornar motions for the two men to follow him into the butchery.
"Take this buck head and personally give it to the Bastard Bull. A sign of things to come if he continues to insult the Jarl such as he has."
It takes both of the men to remove the head from the spike, but they do so and kneel before Cornar, then scamper off into the night. Cornar's second walks over to him.
"What will you do once this journey is over, jarl?" he asks.
Cornar pauses. "I will take the riches and honor back home, Thorbjornn, I will then spread my seed as far as I can and sire enough Thunder-Armed to rid this and every other place of the rot within it. The one they call Ransack, the Bastard Bull, all the way down to the enchantress ONYX and her persuasion.
It would be foolish of me to believe I alone will cleanse Midgard of evils all on my own. It will take a united front, but my path is clear. Odin came to me in my dreams, he told me that he was watching over me and that he would offer his guidence whenever I asked. As a sign of good fair, he led me to where the deer rested and at dusk I'd be able to feed everyone.
This is it, Thorbjornn. There is something where the Bastard rests, deep within, that Odin wants me to retrieve. My best hope, for now, is to win this series of battles, hope the Bastard Bull conquers and then dispatch him onto a butchers table and clean his bones just as I did to the buck. Once that is done, I shall claim his lands and excavate whatever Odin has laid deep within the soils and use it to command an army of drengr farther than even his eye can see."
Cornar grabs Thorbjornn by the shoulders, lifting him into the air so they are eye to eye.
"Speak of this to no soul, lest I lop your head off and replace the Bastard's present with your own."
Thorbjornn drops to the ground once Cornar releases him, kneeling before his jarl but offering words of wisdom.
"Fear not the one they call ONYX, my jarl. She appears to be a witch, a demon or a combination of both but she bleeds just as the lynx did. Though you could devour her heart and she may smile," Thorbjornn seethes.
Cornar looks to the sky before reacting. "Yes, this one is of another world entirely. Niflheim if I were to guess, the place where all terrible things are created. Hel herself may embody the one called Onyx but I will not fear, young one, as with Odin at my side and Winterbreaker sheathed gleefully at my side, there will be no taking another victory from I. Hel herself would tremble at my sight, I can only imagine what this succubus will excrete once inside the fight square with me."
Winterbreaker is pulled forth, thrust into the chest of Thorbjornn.
"Go ahead, try," laughs Cornar.
The drengr before the jarl grasps the handle of Winterbreaker, and is pulled to the ground in a heap. Thorbjornn gasps, "as if Thor himself couldn't wield!"
Cornar grips the handle with one hand and lifts his hammer to the sky, bellowing out a guttural scream and unleashing a torrent of wisdom, "AYE, THIS IS W I N T E R B R E A K E R, FORGED IN THE BOWELS OF NORWAY BY THE GREATEST SMITH TO EVER ROAM MIDGARD!"
Thorbjornn stands, literally in awe of the presence before him. A massive man, a massive hammer, a massive task. "For Odin!" yells the drengr.
"FOR ODIN!" Cornar yells back, pointing the hammer southward toward the fragile pyramid where combat takes place.
