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I'll be gone on vacation starting tomorrow through the 24th or 25th. If you guys need to kick me out I understand (I really don't want to be though!) Feel free to post on my behalf until I return ^^
I'll be on vacation starting tomorrow through the 24th or 25th. You guys can just pretend that Tor is passed out drunk or something ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


@GrizzTheMauler


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@PennySorry for the lack of posts from me. I got absorbed into another RP. I'll post today or tomorrow



Tor observed the young man with chestnut colored hair as he dropped a seemingly unending length of bandage from his palm. Right after the bandage touched ground at the bottom of the cliff, he had asked if anyone saw where they could anchor the other end. The next thing Tor knew the man that had introduced himself as Sam strummed three different chords on the guitar that he carried. Its notes could be felt in Tor’s chest as they rang out. Sam then embedded the instrument into the mountain itself to be used as an anchor. Finally, Mazorn evoked a rune on the bandage. The whole ordeal took maybe two minutes—tops.

With eyes transfixed on the edge of the cliff where the makeshift rope dropped off, Tor remarked out loud to himself, ”Yeah, let me just climb down this bandage that some guy spewed out of his palm like Spiderman, which is anchored to some magic guitar, seems safe. Seems completely sane. Yep.”

Unaware of what Mazorn had said, Torbjørn jumped to the side when he took him by surprise by throwing himself off the cliff. Torbjørn, not knowing what to think other than Mazorn was completely out of his mind, scrambled to the edge expecting to see a man but saw nothing instead. What the hell? He looked around trying to search for any sign of him, then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a raven soaring alongside Himinn. ”Of course. He can shapeshift,” he sarcastically stated. Tor shook his head with a smirk. He needed several hard drinks.

Torbjørn grabbed onto the slack at the edge and tugged hard. It felt sturdy enough and the guitar didn’t budge. With the graceful expertise of a mountaineer he rappelled down the side of the cliff and onto solid ground. He had thought his mind was playing tricks on him as he descended the mountain’s face, but the temperature drastically changed from below freezing to a temperature one would expect on the beaches in summer. Beads of sweat collected on his brow; his jacket which felt barely thick enough to retain any warmth now felt stifling.

He chuckled quietly to himself, muttering as he removed his gear. “Ah og en annen drink. Det ser ut til at dette palasset er i stand til å ha temperert vær på toppen av fjellene som er under frysepunktet.” Dripping with the last remnants of snow, his parka hung between the top flap of the backpack and the main compartment. Tor wiped the sweat from his brow, slung one strap of the bag over his shoulder, and then looked up to take in the scenery up close for the first time.

Several feet away a courtyard of sorts with an enormous bowl with a fire burning within it sat at the center. He made his way closer with slow and cautious steps. As he neared the courtyard he walked between a tower and some sort of large building. To both his surprise and unsurprise, he noticed a small figure not much further away from the central fire bowl as he. It was safe to assume she was there for the same reason as him and everyone else.

Continuing a slow and cautious approach to the center of the courtyard, Tor scanned the area from left to right. There were five doorways which were built into the walls of the valley. One, in particular, stood out to him—that of cedarwood with shields adorning both doors.
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