Skallagrim

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

Kolskegg stopped after a hundred yards. The snow was falling steadily now, there was no sense in continuing the run. They would not have a hard time finding him. Rubbing his chest, the Viking felt the armor where the bullets had struck him. They hadn’t pierced it but his chest hurt immensely. Verily it seemed as if a Jotun had hit him with a club. With a cursory glance he laid Alyward against a pillar before he snaked his hand under his shirt, feeling where the bullets struck. He felt the welts.

Whatever those sticks were they possessed a powerful magic. Retrieving his sword, Kolskegg watched the snow swirl around him. Surly in such an area as this, the snow would give him away. No matter he had things to do. He had drawn first blood; he had killed one of the sorcerers. There were others, he had to figure out how many.

Patting the bag he felt the magic within, he was prepared, he would call forth the next set of runes soon enough, but for now he would allow Ymir’s icy grasp keep him company. Rising again he stared at the ruins. They would provide him height; perhaps allow him to see his enemies. Narrowing his eyes the Gothi recalled what had happened. He had killed a man, for he was sure it was a man. It was not tall enough to be an Alfar, nor stout enough to be a dwarf or troll. No it must be a man.

Men were crafty, sneaky fighters. Kolskegg was a man and if he judged the ruins to be advantageous, so would other men. No. He would keep away from the ruins for now. He would use the woods and rocks to his advantage. With a wave of his hand a drift of snow piled up along the wash, creating a barrier nearly six-feet tall.

Like the bitter cold stalked men and killed them, so would Kolskegg stalk these men. Climbing from the wash he made his way towards a ruined cottage a hundred yards or so away. The billowing, blustery winds that heralded the snow and frost lashed against the ruins, piling snow against the sides and filling the interior where it snaked it’s way in.

Stepping inside, the Viking peered cautiously around a corner. As he did a nasty sound filled the air as the heavy, metallic roars of the turret ripping the air. Bullets slaming into the wall, forcing Kolskegg to duck behind it, slowly backing away in a low crouching walk as large holes appeared where the impacts of the large caliber weapon punched through it.

“Odin’s beard, their magic is indeed powerful.” He murmured as he edged out the way he had come in. It was clear that these wizards controlled the very insects of this world as the angry buzzing and thwaps of bullets raced past him or punched the walls.

Hefting his shield up, he ran across the open area towards a copse of trees and large boulders. His right side protected by the large shield, which was up to help cover his head. Keeping as low as possible in case they had an archer amongst them, he kept an eye on the skies for the dreaded rain of arrows. These were certes powerful wizards capable of controlling insects and projecting the strength of the Jotun themselves.

Around him the swirl of snow continued, a line of tracers following him like a red laser, kicking up the dirt behind him. Powerful blows from the invisible fists crashed against the shield, causing the Viking to stagger a bit, his arm, nay his body shook at each impact. They came fast and furious, a stream of hammering blows that caused his teeth to rattle, but he never lost his footing reaching the pillars.

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

Take your time. I enjoy fish outta water story fights like these. I suspect that your technology will detect the energy releases when I cast a spell and certainly the satellite and drones that you have access too will pick up the weather anomaly.

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

The game, as they say, is on. I will make mention of the burning and pain from the bullets hitting his chest, even though they didn't pierece his armor they still leave welts and are painful. No worries I won't god-mode Kolskegg.

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

Hurtling a boulder and landing in a soft wash, Kolskegg dropped low. In a sure and practiced motion his right hand dug into the magical bag on his belt, and came out with three glowing runes. Tossing them in the air, the orange-red runes sizzled then burned out as their magical energies were released into nature.

Glancing over the lip of the small wash, the Viking spotted movement amongst the brush. Drawing Alyward from its sheath, Kolskegg grinned wolfishly. Whatever man or beast resided in these wodes, they would for certes not be expecting a Viking Gothi to be hunting them.

Already the temperature was beginning to drop, slowly at first but it would increase until the fury of Ymir’s hoary realms would sluice through the nine worlds and center on the one who summoned them. Adjusting his grip, Koskegg ran low along the wash in the direction of the soldiers named Earle and Yem.

Behind him soft frost coated the wash, and the plants surrounding it. The closest figure, the one called Earle had stopped when he saw the Viking emerge from the wash, closing the few yards between them in a matter of a second or so. His weapon at the ready he lifted his rifle and fired a burst at the Viking, striking him square in the chest.

Kolskegg felt the hammering blows from the rifle in the chest, dropping him to a knee as the bullets made contact with the chain shirt. Such power from such a small black stick, clearly these were not men as he kin them. No these were sorcerers, perhaps from Svartalfheim.

As the man approached he was speaking to the air. His magic rod still pointed at the Viking. Grinning, Kolskegg stood up, charging the man who was shouting at him in a language that he didn’t understand. It didn’t matter. In one fluid motion, the blued sword known as the lathe of heaven had cleaved the man clean through. The slice came up and caught Earle in the left hip, ripping upward and exiting through the man’s right shoulder close to the neck. Again the fire rod spat, but the magic hit the shield, some of the magic riddle the man’s body as he died in a horrible spasm of muscle contractions.

Hearing a shout and running, Kolskegg wheeled and darted back into the wash, running back the way he came. Everywhere around him frost was settling and the temperature was now below freezing. The hunt was afoot. Kolskegg knew the black wizards and their fire rods would come, but he would be hunting them as well.

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

Spell that was rolled:

Dice Roller
You rolled 1 die:
6
Timestamp: 2015-05-20 11:03:56 UTC

Ymir’s Vex of Frost- This rune when cast surrounds Kolskegg in a persistent snow-fall. The snow obscures him and lowers the temperature around Kolskegg in a 50 yard radius to 15 degrees. Kolskegg is immune to the effects of the cold and can create drifts of snow that act as temporary walls within that effect radius.

Tre'Yan vs Dyayun: The Return of the Dead Champion

Tre’yan didn’t move his gaze never left Dyayun, stoic and unflinching he merely stared at the once great champion with dispassionate eyes. This fight would be memorable, perhaps even legendary in some circles.

For Tre’yan it would be merely a test. Their last fight was a sadistic affair. Neither fighter gave quarter. Powerful blow answered with powerful blow. Broken and battered, neither side asked for mercy and none was expected. What had started as a prize fight had turned into a personal hell, a war of attrition that Tre’yan won.

Dyayun stepped back, his stance brutish, coarse and decidedly that of a brawler, not a boxer. Even now the fight had been fought and a winner decided. All that remained was the painful process of blows, a whittling down of will, until the final blow crashed down.

Dyayun prided himself on being a fighter, the reality was he was far from it; he was simply a bull in a china shop. He had heavy punches, and an ability to absorb punishment. These traits led him to a championship, one fraught with fearful fighters who crumbled under the withering, relentless Dyayun. Until he faced a true boxer, until he faced Tre’yan.

Sliding back into his unorthodox style, Tre’yan’s right hand slipped up in front of his face with the elbow drawn in, parallel with his torso. His right foot edging forward, as the left slid back. Knees bending as the weight settled evenly on the balls of his feet. The power hand, his dreaded left pulled in close to his body, elbow vertical with the fist.

The fight would of course be the classic mismatch of orthodox against unorthodox styles. But while Dyayun burned with vengeance for a loss many years ago, Tre’yan knew the sting of a recent loss. He had learned much in that fight, short as it was. He realized that he had given a tell to the man who beat him. Just as Dyayun gave a tell to Tre’yan. That was really all it was in a fight. One side giving away a tell they desperately tried to hide. The other side reading that tell and taking advantage of it. Time would tell if Dyayun actually learned anything in the many years since his death. If he didn’t he would suffer the same fate. He would lose to a fighter, not a brawler.

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

Kolskegg ran. He ran as fast as he could, the dark forms just ahead of him, dipping behind the thick, hoary trees. The ax in his hand, light and well balanced, was of some comfort. The large shield, the chain mail shirt and the long sword on his hip gave him a sense of purpose. Again the figure he was chasing appeared, a darker shadow amongst the darkness of the forest.

Kolskegg didn’t wait; in one fluid motion his right hand tossed the ax forward in a mighty hurl. Leaping atop a mossy log, the Viking’s hand hovered near the sword hilt. The figure had stopped, turning and catching the ax in mid-flight. Glowing yellow eyes peered from the gloom at him, a sinister chuckle echoed through the woods.

The shadow stepped forward, until it was as tall, as the Viking who was atop a thick log. The features of the creature were sharp, angular and fearsome. The yellow eyes hypnotic in the blue-gray face, as the creature reached its full height of nearly twenty-feet tall.

“You are a fool Kolskegg. You are like all your kind, you cannot see the greater picture, only what is in front of you.”

“No Utgard-Loki, I am well aware of where I am.” Kolskegg nodded towards the forest, “These are Odin’s Wode, and you have something that you stole from the Frigga. I have come to reclaim it and return it to her.”

The giant growled, the metallic teeth glinted evilly as he glanced down at the ax he had caught. “You are a fool. You dare meddle in the affairs of Gods?”

Kolskegg reached for the bag on his belt, as he did so a soft red-orange glow emanated from it. “I dare.”

Before he could remove the rune stones, Utgard-Loki snarled, swinging the ax in a downward motion, as he did so he uttered a spell. Realizing this Kolskegg leaped for the giant hoping to interrupt him.

It was too late. The ax struck the ground beneath him, as it did so a swirl of brilliant light rose from the gash the giant had made. A sudden and intense pressure enveloped the Viking, a wave of heat rose from the upturned ground. Looking up into the malignant eyes of the giant, Kolskegg swore, “I shall find you. There is not a place in the nine-realms where you can hide. I shall gain my vengeance against you Jotun.”

###

Kolskegg landed with a heavy thud amongst a group of baboons, which promptly scattered in a squealing frenzy. Rising to his feet, the Viking surveyed the area. He stood in a forest, with large boulders around him. In the short distance he spotted ruins of some sort. What they were exactly were obscured by the trees. Glancing at the baboons that had pulled back to the trees, their chittering continuing as large males padded forward baring fangs. A crooked smile crossed the rugged face of the Viking.

“Little ones, attacking me might not be the best thing to do.” Kolskegg murmured as he stepped around a boulder and onto a small game trail. Looking at the sky he frowned He had encountered the giant at night and yet it was day here. Utgard-Loki had sent him to one of the realms, the question remained, which one. More importantly how would he return?

Before he took a step forward something caused him to lower his gaze, slowly. A form, it looked human, but it was dressed in an odd fashion. It was looking through a bag of some sort. He was not alone. Of course not, that would have required some mercy from the Jotun. Speaking softly, Kolskegg prayed to the Gods.

"Great Aesir, Mighty Vanir,
Gods of eternal power,
Fulfill my greatest needs, O glorious ones.
Teach me the magic I need.
Give me a glimpse of your deep wisdom..
Mighty Aesir, the immortals of Asgard.
Ancient Vanir, protectors of Yggdrasil
You who are the shape shifters, the slayers, the independent ones.
Give me the strength in magic I need."

When he finished the creature had stopped also, she, why did he think it was female? She looked around a moment until their eyes met. As the woman stood up, he ran to his left amongst the boulders and trees. Whatever it was, he was sure she wasn’t alone.

Running he stayed among the trees, keeping them between he and the woman, and the ruins. A surge of power flowed from the bag at his belt, a warmth washed over him. He would face what creatures that lived in this realm, kill them if need be. Then he would find his way back to finish what he started with the Jotun.

Cho Sun-Jin vs. Kolskegg.

Looks good to me.

Tre'Yan vs Dyayun: The Return of the Dead Champion

Funny how the sins of the past catch up to you when you least expect it. Tre’yan stared at the ghastly forms of the dead, a mockery of the living who had witnessed his defeat at the hands of a capable MMA fighter. Why had he taken the fight? Why? Because of his absolute confidence in his own skills, Tre’yan had made the one mistake that haunts all fighters. He believed his own hype; he believed that there was no one alive that could touch him.

The images flooded back, each moment realizing he was rapidly losing control, losing the edge to dominate, to impose his will. It was a feeling he did not enjoy. The eerily silent arena filled with the dead. They were staring at him, their hollow eyes and malignant grins, a grim reminder of the other world.

How it must have been for Dyayun when Tre’yan killed him. The realization that he was no longer dominate, that his skills had faded, had become a twitch too slow. Tre’yan allowed a sliver of a smile to slip past his stoicism. Each step he climbed filled him with a cold resolve, a fury, an appetite for pain.

Stepping into the ring, Tre’yan stared at the spot where he lay, where the large man had taken him off his feet. Where he tasted defeat, where he felt the gnawing realization that he was not invincible, not unbeatable.

The gloves felt heavy, solid on his hands. Staring at them, he felt a certain comfort in knowing that the fight to come would be one standing up. He would not have to worry about leg sweeps or take downs. No. This fight would be a brutal and deadly affair. Slamming his gloves together, the fighter known as Tre’yan T’mass stared at the crowd then at the tunnels where his opponent would enter. If Dyayun wanted to have this fight, then he would get everything that Tre’yan had. Perhaps the old champion felt a desire for revenge; perhaps he felt he had to show to himself that he was the better fighter. To sustain his existence to prove that he lost on a fluke, that he had not been beaten by a better fighter.

Again that sly smile slipped loose. Again the gloves crashed together creating a loud explosive pop that filled the arena, lingering ominously. Tre’yan knew, and Dyayun would remember, he was not invincible.

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No worries brother I'll do you proud.