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It was supposed to be just a short hike through the mountains, he said. It would be easy, he said. But the dumb god failed to mention that there would be [i]monsters[/i]. He wasn't afraid of them, no. It was just... How many of these were out an about?

[color=8C700F]"It's part of the job to make sure they don't become too much of a problem."[/color] The gods voice spoke smoothly from the mouth of the raven that alighted on his shoulder. [color=8C700F]"You have a ways yet. And as you cannot yet tame Slepnir, you are stuck walking."[/color]

"The bloody spider legged horse nearly threw me into the sea!" Mazorn grunted. "I'm fine with the cold. I'm from the North as it is." He reached the spot where he had thrown his spear. "Ugh... Gross." He shook his head as he pulled it free from the draugr. "These old zombies smell worse than a high school boy's locker room and their blood is literally rotten. That makes sixteen. A lot of people must die here... Or worse... Someone's raising them."

[color=8C700F]"Well then, you'll have to... Get a closer look."[/color] The gods voice rumbled.

"Why don't you just come over here yourself? You did it before. When you..." Mazorn paused his walking. "Wait... I've seen this." He focused his eyesight further up the mountain. He pulled out his runes, the smoothed stones glittering softly as he awoke his power. He sought wisdom on the road ahead, to see what dangers might lie before him. "Ansuz Raidho Thurisaz." The runes in question rose up, their symbols forming int he air above them as they swirled together. "Show me the Path."

The snow seemed to freeze int he air as the power of the Wyrd was called upon. He willingly gave up a bit of his energy as the world opened around him. He could see Draugr, bears and harpies, but he was focused on something else. There was people. He could see one group facing off against harpies, and another around a large snake. "I think they have this under control but... There is a harpy hiding in wait."

Lifting Gungnir, the silvery gold spear shifted itself to fit perfectly balanced in his hand. He took aim, mentally targeting the harpy before letting loose, throwing the spear as hard as he could. He wasn't worried about intercept or theft. Gungnir was inordinately heavy and refused to work for anyone it didn't consider it's wielder. He watched the spear sway in the air, as if swimming, before it picked up speed and [i]launched[/i] itself into the prey's head, pinning it in place before the spear returned to him just as swiftly, the man cursing and dodging the pointed end. "Rasshøl!" He picked himself up off the snow, shaking himself off.

He could practically feel Odin's mirth. [color=8C700F]"Perhaps you should instruct Gungnir to [i]safely[/i] return to your hand, next time."[/color]

"When I get up there I'm challenging you to a Holmgang." He made it to the cave, noting the figure that had just entered. His vision tinged the man with a red-orange glow, like the beginning of sunrise. He could see how cold the man was and instantly evoked the rune for fire. While it burned within him already, keeping his own chills far away, it now quickly warmed the area around them.

"Hils, venn!" He called to the man, Gungnir glowing softly with the evoked rune, Kenaz, shimmering on it's point. The spear was as tall as Mazorn, the silvery wood shining with a golden tone. The shaft appeared both straight and wavy, the exact state imperceptible to the eye. The man holding it, however, seemed quite odd; as he was dressed in light winter gear, a gleeful expression on his face. "You seemed a bit cold. What brings you on this perilous journey, friend?" He quickly head over to the Torbjørn. "Oh don't give me that look, you have the Wyrd about you as well."

The raven on his shoulder ruffled it's feathers. "The son." It piercing gaze was directed at the other man, it's words clear and sonorous. The raven had a soft silvery glow in the darkness of the cave. "The Sun."

Tilting his head, Mazorn raised an eyebrow. "The Son... The-OH!" He clapped his hands together. "Baldur! That explains the glow!" The large man cackled with delight. The first one he'd met belonged to Odin's son! "Don't mind Himinn. He's an oddball. And as for my lack of winter attire, wolves don't need jackets. I'm Mazorn, Odin's Communicator."


[@tokkiya]