Timeless

Adventuring through twisted time.

Einor's mind swam with the celebrations of the night previous, he had danced about the fire, drank of the blood-mead, howled at the moon like an animal. The ritual brought on the rage of the berserker, hardened his skin like the bear, sharpened his senses like the wolf. He roared and howled beside his brothers, draped in wolf and bear skins. As they rushed upon the Angle village, mad with rage, Einor swung his axe with bone shattering strength before leaping upon another man, his sword cleaving skull, flesh and hair. The battle-rage coursed through him as he bathed in the blood of his enemies. Drunken with the animalistic rage, he leapt upon another man, bore him to the ground and ripped his throat out with his own teeth. Arrows pierced his chest and yet he did not halt.

An hour later, Einor stood in the chapel of the Angle village, The spirit of the Norn before him, appearing as a witch with a raven-feather headdress, bones and beads woven in her hair. She spoke to him of his shame, his vengeance to be had. It was at hand, it was time to become a man once more instead of a stupid beast. His mind cleared of the fog of the berserker for a moment to hear what the spirit had to say.  He needed a hungry weapon in order to take his vengeance, a sword already soaked in blood from a hundred years past. The sword he was to take his vengeance with was a soul-trapper and to be found in a ruin of a Viking longship, sunken in a swamp. "Follow the waxing moon to the swamp, Einor Oathsblood." and trek he did to the swamp and through the muck until he found the longship. 

Within the longship, among the long dead of his people, upon the lap of the boatswain lay the sword he sought. He laid a hand upon it and the corpse would not yield it's grip. Einor stood in confusion and then the corpse stood, unsheathing blade to strike Einor down. As the hungry blade swung towards him Einor rolled out of the way, grabbing up a sword from another corpse. The dead boatswain's next swing struck against steel as Einor stood to face his opponent. Einor rolled beneath the next swing and rose quickly behind his unbreathing opponent, his sword slashed across the corpse's back but did not draw blood. The rage came upon Einor then and his strikes fell over and over on the corpse, ringing against steel once the deathless creature turned. Einor pushed the creature back, cleaved it's leg from it's body then, with a mighty swing, separated it's head from it's shoulders. 

He stood over the headless corpse that should have never risen in the first place, shaking as the rage began to leave his body and with unsteady hands, pried the evil and hungry blade from cold dead grip of the Boatswain. With the weapon of his vengeance in his hand, he now left the longship and eventually, the swamp behind to travel deeper into Angle-land, where he would find the man who killed his father, his own uncle and the other men who raised blades against their Jarl.

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