Chapter 20 (Raw)

Merits Lodging was home to villagers that lived a non hostel viking peasant tradition. The villagers dressed in casual Nordic clothing. The men wore tunic and trousers made linen, animal skin and wool. The women wore long dresses. A pinafore was wore over each of the dresses despite the winter condition.

The village was located at Vanahiem's northern continent through the ice grave of Bjorns Pass. The villagers were mostly anglers and hunters. They trade for a living. Paths were blanketed with snow. Merchant faerings were seeing, entering the glacier fjord. Some vessels carried six wooden barrels of herring while other rowboats carried six barrels of oysters. No more than two people occupied each fearing.

Only three faering could moor at a time along the planks of the harbor. The receiving crew gathered the barrels and hauled them onto a wheel cart. Off to the market those barrels would go. The village's structures were mostly homesteads that had wooden dome roofing. The main and important structures were great lodges. Every roof was covered in snow.

In the sunlight, the snow thawed out and draped down from fascias only to refreeze into sparkly, icy stalagmites, hanging down from rooftops. It was a nice sight seeing to travelers.

An arctic gust blew swiftly in from Bjorn's Pass. A woman, waiting out a pub patiently spotted party of three dwarfs and a halfling heading down the slope. The first dwarf in the front was your average obese size dwarf. They called him Grundi “Scarred-Beard” Skaggisson. The title “Scarred-Beard” was earned, defending a siege attack on the guildhall “Guardians of Midgard” as a guild member of GoM. His chin was grazed by an assailant's overhand slash with a sword to the chin, chopping off his goatee.

No hair grew on the slanted scar across his cheek. Grundi wore a black steel chain-mail, gauntlets and leggings. A black black fur coat was worn over the torso. He carried a black battleaxe over his shoulder. His onyx eye darted to the village

and its inhabitants.

“A fine village! The smell of fresh fish tingles my beard! Wanteth to lie by hearth with an elegant plump, drinking ale mead dawn,” Grundi chorused in laughter.

“Boss want's to slack off as usual,” Holgar murmured.

Holgar “Brown-Fist” Baldrickson earned the titled “Bronze -Fist” at a relatively young age. Brown-Fist meaning dirty fist. Growing up into his teens, Holgar was a farmer. He lived with his folks the outer banks of Glenn's Bend. One night, human raiders rode up the channels with their longboats. They pillaged his farmstead and village and left no one alive. They sold the women and sold the children they held captivity into slavery.

His kin was slain in combat and he was among the captivity. Holgar was rescued when another group of humans ambushed the raiders and set the captives free. The group of humans that rescued him were from GoM. They were good humans that protected the realm of Midgard. Although, the billboards that posts guild missions will make partake and any request across the Eight Worlds.

The guardians were kindly to escort his race back to Nidavellir. No longer having a family or a kin to return home to, he asked to be enlisted. To his surprised, a young Grundi took him under his wing. Holgar became part of the guild.

“Nah . . . he y-ain't. He's fantasizing, basking-nin the glory of lif-fen dat skirt,” Thorbal retorted a bit too loudly.

Thorbal “Rough-Hammer” Durginsson another GoM member was know for his toughness, vigor in combat and his defensive tactical training as a proctor at GoM. Thorbal and Holgar have been childhood friends, growing up in the same village. Unlike Holgar, Thorbal managed to escape with his family from Glenn's Blend. However, he was determined to rescue his long time friend and departed from his family.

Backtracking his footsteps to the village, but he was ambushed by the raiders and taken into captivity. He was rescued a reunited with his friend Holgar. However, the whereabouts of his family were unknown until months later after Torbal joined GoM.

“Bloody Hel! Will you three just shut up! One more word and I swear I'll turn you three into goblin droppings!” Draco yelled.

Draco was a young halfling mage, skilled in the art of water magic, trained under a great wizard. Draco was well known for his rowdy behavior and clumsiness.

“Who brought Rumblemouth along?” Holgar muttered to Thorbal.

The two chorused in laughter. This was more than enough to fuel the halfling's rage. Draco, in a foul mood, raised the the staff above his head. Mumbling with gibberish incantations, the blunt head of the staff began accumulating moist particles, amassing into a swirling sphere made of water. With a quick overhand swing from his staff, a spiraled water-spray, beamed horizontally at a rapid pace.

Grundi heard a gurgling of water, combined with the horrid screams of his comrades. Turning around, “Woooh!” Grundi exclaimed, biting his lips, as the bundled form of Grundi's friends, covered with snow and frozen water collided into him. He became part of the slickly bundle, skying the steeps of Bjorn's Pass.

The spectators from bellow spotted the tumbling bundles of frozen dwarfs manifested into a boulder. Frantic screams from the hysterical villagers escalated rapidly. Mainly scrambled to get out of the snowy boulder's projected paths as it bulldozer anything that got in its way while other hurried back to their homesteads and embraced for impact. Only one who was brave to meet the boulder head on.

A person, dressed in brown linen robes stepped out from the tavern. The hood over the head masked the person's face with shadows. Just glancing at it from a distance was like looking from a distance was very intimidating. The person in robes brandished a Katana with her right hand defiantly and very determined to halt the snowball's progress. Incredibly, she slashed at an angle and made solid contact with the snowy boulder.

The boulder instantly split in half. Remnants of frosty flakes flew straightforward out of harm's way. Villagers gasped and were astounded by the person's feat. Dazed, were the three dwarfs, cuddled and intertwine like a ball of yarn. A scrawny man that towed a wheelbarrow full of fished evaded the incoming bolder but his wheelbarrow was unfortunate.

Quickly, the woman in robes held her hand out to aloof and furious man and silenced the crowd, “I'll take responsible for this idiotic farce! All damages will be paid in full!” The lady in robes said, tossing a tiny pouch filled with gold coins in the man's path. The man happily excepted the payment.“Carry on! Nothing to see here!”

The villagers went bout there daily lives. The lady in robes folded her arms, very displeased with the dwarf. Grundi was the first to have a clear view of the woman's face and it was an all too familiar. His breath labored roughly, sighing out misty condensation. His frozen mustache twitched with excitement momentarily before his mood was halted,when a pair on angry jaded eye glared profoundly into the depths of his soul.

“Why am I not surprised. I've been gone for five years. Still, you guys have a penchant of causing trouble. Not only for yourselves.” She hissed. “I had to fill out a lot of paper work despite being gone for eight years and millions of light years and many galaxies across the universe I was taking care of my ill father! What you buffoons have to say for yourselves?”

Her words cut like blades. Grundi dare not to speak. One wrong slip of the tongue could be costly. Holbar pointed behind, still shivering from his soaked armor and tunics.

“Lady Ayame. That blasted halfing! The fault is his alone . . . cast'n his seidr!”

Draco, very proud of his handy work. Sliding down the slope, trotting into the village, Draco's mouth went agape when all eyes were on him. Hearing the dwarfs rambling about made him even more wary of his surroundings. The figure in brown robes , towering over his dwarfish companions glared at him. He dreadfully knew who was under the hood. She was no ordinary human lass to trifle with.

Dracco that stood just ten paces away.

He shivered from those pair of jaded eyes carved profoundly into the depths of his soul. He knew that not even being comrades and members from the same guild would save him from her impending punishments. He swallowed hard, and proceeded with caution.

“And you,” she hissed, “learn to control your anger! I Swear . . . your magic will be the death of me.”

“M-my humble apologies. I will full responsibility for my action, Lady Ayame Akasuki—”

The halfling received a light thumping on the cranium. With enough strength the blow Draco took from Ayame, he tripped over his own leg and fell hard onto his behind while leaning against the wall of the tavern. Accumulated sprinkles of snow fell from the rooftop, dousing the dismayed halfling's head.

“Do not speak my name! Have you gone daft!” She grinned her teeth in anger. “Now lets not squander anymore precious time,” she said it with monotone.

She raced through the threshold of the tavern. When she was out of sight, the three dwarfs laughed and made humorous faces to Draco and jested, drenched in a puddle of snow as the started to follow after the redhead. Draco childishly stuck his tongue.