Only In My Mind

This week Grillain is facing fear. It seems so simple and straightforward. Stop being afraid of the big bad monster. Just another problem to be overcome...right?

--

She hit the ground running. Having moved the bed at home closer to the fire she awoke dry, comfortable, warm. But, her thoughts were steely with purpose. Morning is such a good time. Everything is fresh and new. The bees buzzing in their house, a hot drink and a chunk of neck in your hand and there couldn't possibly be anything you can't do. Grillain scuffed the ground with a foot, watching the puff of dust rise up around her blue skinned boot. A ray of warm sunshine crept toward her and she allowed it to warm her from her toes up, standing patiently as it did so. When her breath stopped clouding in the air she swallowed the last of her drink and went inside.

The portal ride still made her shiver with its power. She wondered who had created such an invention. Were they some sort of dark mage? Maybe Odin himself had created it. The thought of Odin sitting in a camp, carving a ring of fire and then wedging grayling eyes into it made her grin with amusement all the way into the Black Forest. 

She approached the Elder's territory with care.

"That troll cave is entirely too quiet," she murmured. 

With a rather gleeful wantonness, she went to work chopping trees down. She used the wood to begin construction on her tower with a janky roof and just enough room for a bed, fire, and workbench.  On the other side of the building was a ladder and a platform to shoot from. For such a long time there was no response to her destruction/construction cycles. Not even a normal amount of gray dwarves came to challenge her. She began to wonder if maybe the trolls in the area had moved out. Were they intimidated by the Elder?

As if thinking about him were a trigger, a sliver of cold crept through her chest. She decided it was a good time to sharpen her axe. Her feet found her path with gratitude and if she moved a little faster than strictly necessary it was only to be expected. She wasn't scared. She was just...hurrying. At home, she rummaged in her boxes to see if she had enough copper to make another piece of bronze armor. A shiny, thin cuirass joined the bronze dotted pants she already had, though that was the end of her tin. There was plenty at the new raiding base though. She'd mined some of it! 

It was (of course) a quick trip back through the portal. She seized the raw chunks of tin she'd gotten from the beach and hurried back to the portal. As she stepped toward the portal, she noticed a flare which was normal, but the flare died abruptly and she felt as if there were glue holding her back. No...not her. Her bag! She could go through just fine, but as her bag crossed the threshold, it "stuck."

Experimentally she set the pack down on the ground and moved back toward the gate. Fire sprang up to greet her approach. Reluctantly she took only a chunk of tin from the bag and went back toward the portal. Nothing. Not even a spit. It just refused to work when she tried to take tin through. Reluctantly she admitted defeat and put the tin in a storage box in the tiny raid camp. She would have to wait until she had plenty and then use the boat to transport it. She had neither the time nor reason to take the boat all the way here right now. Obstinately she refused to admit she could just build another boat. Her little friend was special. She wanted it to stay that way. 

Grillain slept at home and dreamt of a great tree. Half of the branches crackled with flames and half the branches were filled with green leaves. She awoke abruptly, sweating and trembling with eagerness or anxiety, it wasn't clear. But today was the day. She had no excuses to make. 

"I will make you proud of me Father," she whispered into the fireplace. It crackled back comfortingly and her eyes settled upon the flames. 

A log fell down and she threw another few sticks on it to keep the fire alive. Fire. The key would have to be fire, wouldn't it? Another fit of trembling, but this time it was definitely eagerness.  She sprang forward with gusto and was running lightly through the portal as quick as a wink. She was only a half dozen paces within the trees when the pounding steps of a troll made her stumble. 

"There's the troll!" 

It did not particularly upset her that the troll was there. In fact it was quite a bit of relief. She could not have handled a troll invading her battle with the Elder. The troll grabbed a tree and wrenched it up by the roots to swing at her. It must have been searching for her all night! She turned on her heel to shoot an arrow and taunt it.

"Are you angry little monster? Come and get me!"

She kept shooting as she raced across the territory. Even at her slowest, she could still outpace it. She had made a whole circuit of the grounds around the Elder's altar when her feet hit the pathway again. She turned once more as the trolls gray dwarves came at her, but they were too late. Her last arrow found the monster's throat and brought him down. Two swipes with her axe took care of the dwarves and the forest again fell silent. 

"I'm getting...quite good...at this…"

She walked to catch her breath before reaching the tower. She settled the troll treasure into a box and claimed the bed next to the fire before turning again for the altar. Fire. She paced the altar, clearing the grass from its perimeter and setting up small campfires all around the whole place. When she was done she settled down to count her arrows. One hundred fire and twenty flint heads later she was convinced she did not have enough. She set herself to making more. Four hundred more. All fire arrows. She gathered all the resin she could find from fallen trees and graylings. For some reason they gathered the stuff like candy and dropped them like marbles when they died.

She did not stop to think. For she knew he would be there in her thoughts, creating reasons to not complete her objective. Instead, she welcomed the fire into her heart. A rumble and a lancing light over her head echoed her fearsome mood, but the lashing of rain cooled the heat of her anger. She watched the campfires go out one by one and she sighed in defeat. Another night would pass. The rain drove her into the tiny tower where she huddled next to the fire and finally gave in to sleep, twisting fitfully on the straw. 

The next day she made sure all her fires were blazing hot, though she could not be sure they would capture her Prey within their flames. She could only hope. One more deep breath at the altar. She stretched out her hand. As seeds dropped from her fingers into the altar she Spoke.

"Odin, my heart is for Valhalla!"

The shaking of the ground heralded the arrival of her foe. The light motes swirled and concentrated, condensing into a figure taller than the stone pillars themselves. As tall as the tall pine trees she had cut down. It was made of twisted wood, branches jutting out of its shoulders and hips. It stretched impossibly long arms out toward the sky which darkened at its summoning.

Grillain waited no longer but raced for her tower. She took the ladder to her platform two steps at a time and sprang out on the ledge. 

The Elder turned to look at her, it's red eyes glowing with malevolence. Grillain heard a rising scream in her mind. It was the wind of a storm screaming through the trees, the wind that drove her to run back home, the thorns of shrubs flaying the skin of her legs and arms to ribbons. The scream that promised dire retribution if she didn't run fast enough. 

Through the scream of the wind, Grillain set her feet and raised the bow. She struggled with her heart, but there was anger there. She allowed the anger to spread. Hot, and comforting. The arrow left the bow streaking through the glowing darkness and exploding upon the Elder's chest. A bloom of fire rocked it and its arms swept forward toward her. 

She was surrounded by...roots. Painful shards ripped into her skin. And she knew her mistakes instantly. The tower was too close. It afforded no protection at all. The tiny wall she'd built was nothing to him. The whole tower itself couldn't have tripped him! Before he could throw another attack, she leaped from the ledge to the ground and ran. She ran straight toward the fires, hoping he would follow her. 

It didn't work. He did turn toward her, but he did not bother to follow her. Why would he? As she ducked and wove through the campfires, his root attack lanced out from his arms and sprang up around her, tripping her, slicing her open. 

"Mistake! Big mistake!"

She turned and headed back toward the trees beyond her tower. She almost made it. Almost. Just a few steps short of the tower the darkness claimed her. 

She woke naked. And furious, though she was relieved she had been defeated right next to the tower. Her face froze as she heard a familiar whipping sound. Oh no. Next to the tower! She was up and running. So very luckily she reached her items before the Elder did. She grabbed them and ran for the edge of the trees, pulling on cuirass, helmet, greaves. She stuffed food down her gullet, then pulled her bow. She whirled just in time to see the Elder send a crashing attack upon the tower, blowing the roof high into the air. Behind the safety of a tree she began to fire. She could not be defeated again or it would be disastrous. She had no idea where...or if...she would reappear again.

As the Elder turned its attention to search for her she recognized this panicky feeling, this sourness that breathed along the roof of her mouth and out her nose. She had felt it before. She had lost her weapon to a roundhouse strike in her first battle. In a gutless move, she had run from the field of fighting. After the battle the Chief of their Viking clan had called her before him. In a raging temper, he berated her soundly, which she supposed she deserved. Then he struck her, which she did not deserve. He told her how useless she was and threatened to enthrall her. Lying on the ground looking up at that giant of a man, beard matted with drying blood, ale flecked spittle flying from his mouth she wondered if he just might kill her. She would certainly never have the guts to protect herself. 

*You will never leave here. You have nowhere you can go. You are nothing.*

She struggled to contain the panic. The Elder's words were so powerful she wanted to weep, to give up. To become the thrall the Chief wanted her to be. She glanced behind her, to the trees that would surely hide her. But eventually she would have to come back. The Elder was right. There was nowhere for her to go. Shaking, she raised the bow and relentlessly began firing. If she did not make it, she wanted to know that at least, this time, she had not run away. 

The streaks of pale fire soared through the air that was filling with smoke from the campfires. Unknowingly she had picked, if not the perfect spot, at least a spot far enough away that the Elder seemed to have trouble finding her. The tower underwent a terrible assault and was soon reduced to rubble. Grillain grit her teeth against the urge to vomit as waves of unrelenting fear attacked her. The Elder's mental power was just as harsh as his root attack. 

But a bully was only a bully so long as she let him be. For a moment she stopped firing.

"No wonder they threw you out! You're too stupid to know who your real enemy is!" 

The fear the Elder sent shifted to anger and she drank it in like water. It soaked into her skin and bones, suffusing her with energy. She fired again, and her shots rained fire upon his head and shoulders. His eyes searched the terrain and instantly roots sprang up around her. Was it her imagination or were the roots a little smaller? A little slower? She stumbled as she moved sideways, always trying to keep firing. Many of her shots now didn't even hit, and she had to stop when she ran out of stamina, concentrating on keeping out of the way. Every once in a while she'd let loose another arrow from her dangerously dwindled supply.

As she got her breath back she dragged herself back onto the stone altar and watched him waver, swaying from the damage she had done to him. He was charred now. She reached back and groped for the very last fire arrow, then raised her bow once more, knowing her words were more true than any she had uttered while alive.

"Your own worst enemy is yourself."

The fear that had held her in its grip began to fail under the assault of truth. He had not given her the fear, it was her own, and it might always be there, but she refused to allow it purchase anymore. She would never run away again. The last arrow flew through the smoke and buried itself into the Elders eye. With a final groan he burst into ash and blew away.

Come On!

Fear is a funny thing. It is not always present, and it's not always paralyzing. It is never pleasant, but it can be useful, and exciting. It can be as slow as a stalking cat or rise up out of the blue in a sudden shocking roar. You can sometimes anticipate the type of fear you will experience, but when you are in a strange and unfamiliar place, then who can say how fear shall happen? Your own fantasies are sometimes your own worst enemy. 

Grillain inhaled deeply of the cool mist that surrounded her. Just ten feet or so away, the boat rocked gently on the lapping waves of the shore. Closing her eyes, she relaxed and tried to hear everything there was to hear. The raucous call of a crow, the jibbering of a grayling. It was far away, not likely to find her before morning. Crickets. The swish of broadleaf ferns. A creaking. A dragging step on wood. A soft rattle. 

Skeletons. She thought maybe two. Hefting her axe and shield she marched bravely up the slope to the building she'd glimpsed from the boat. Abruptly an arrow flew out of the darkness and she was glad she had her shield up, because it thunked solidly right into the wood. She tucked herself right in behind the shield and marched forward, waiting until she felt the shield connect with the skeleton and then pushing with the shield, she applied her axe. Three strikes later, bones lay scattered upon the ground. 

"So lies my enemy." she said softly and stretched her neck back and forth. Another sound from up above caused her to duck behind the shield again, but no arrows came raining down. She peeked out and saw the skeleton, hovering at the very edge of the platform that remained at the top of the building. It chattered and growled then walked to the back of the platform before coming to the edge again. 

They didn't seem to remember how to use stairs. It was lucky for her, but she considered it almost poignantly sad. They had lost their lives, then even in their unlives they lost themselves even more, becoming little more than axe fodder. This skeleton swung its sword uselessly out into the air, causing sparks to fly off the stone when it connected. 

"You are not happy," she said.  "Nope. Not happy. At. All."

 She removed her bow, stringing it swiftly and aiming with care. Her first shot hit the skeleton quite solidly, but the next few just thunked into the platform itself leaving little burn marks in the wood. That was no good. She didn't want to take down the platform. She wanted to use it! The building would make a perfect base to get to the Elder. It wasn't very far away.

She stepped back and waited until the rattling, moaning pile of bones made its way into the clear before letting loose two powerful shots in succession. The bolts of fire raced through the dark and sank into their target. The skeleton's last scream lanced through her head just before it collapsed. 

Swiftly, she was on the move, racing up to the stone building. She flung useless items from her bag onto the ground. Stone, greydwarf eyes. She got out wood and built a workbench as quickly as she could. She was just about to start repairing the stone buildings walls by putting up wooden walls in the spaces when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to crawl. 

It wasn't the night sounds. It wasn't the wind, or the moon. It was the absence of sounds that had triggered her wary attention. She decided to make sure her back-up axe was sharp. She laced the axe into the workbench, but as she leaned onto the sharpener, it slipped. Her hand stopped just a fraction of a hair before hitting the edge of the axe. She sucked in an unsteady breath and swallowed hard. There was a peculiar shine bouncing off the stone. She looked up and frowned. The moonlight. She'd forgotten to build a roof. She couldn't use a workbench without a roof.

A chitter caused her to freeze. Was it a gray dwarf? A shaman? Were they about to gang up on her? They'd get the boat first if they came en masse. No other noise invaded the night. Why was she so nervous? A ripple in the water made her relax, it was just a neck. But her relief lasted only a moment. A rumble caught her attention next. Rocks, settling. Her tense wariness was rising, notch by notch. Even with the moonlight, the dark seemed darker, the trees so much taller. The cries of the crows had turned into screams. The air was colder and even the mist was like little needles on her face.

"This was a bad idea. In fact, I should rethink this whole plan."

A stiff breeze sprang up, as if to reinforce the cloying feeling that wouldn't let her concentrate. Something ELSE was here. Somewhere. Something that was offended by her very presence, maybe her very existence. She smashed the workbench and gathered up the wood, scooping everything into the bag carelessly. She ran for the boat and didn't stop until her two feet hit the safety of her own solid deck. 

The creaking of the deck among the hush of the water and whoosh of wind in the sail was comforting. She took long moments to just breathe in the salty air. Out here on the water, she did not feel the dread that filled that forest. And she didn't know why she felt it. It contained no more or less danger than any other Black Forest, yet it was like cold fingers reaching for her heart. 

The forest gave way to a brighter, sunnier, more spacious landscape. Gratefully she turned the boat into the shore, almost expertly pulling up the sail and letting the momentum of the vessel carry it up onto the soft sand. The sun peeked over the horizon, warming up the dewy grass. Right in front of her lay a lovely spot to build.

"Oh this is better. This is much better!"

As usual, her building efforts were...chaotic. She began with her workbench and built around it. At least this time, she remembered to smooth the dirt she built on and wasn't too concerned with the roof looking pretty. Her efforts chopping wood of course attracted attention from the bordering Black Forest. The same Black Forest that held whatever it was that pinched her heart into a tiny little piece of coal. Every time she went out for wood, a new wave of chill made her shiver. It wasn't long before the trickles of offensive little irritants became waves. She had to stop more frequently to whip them off. They couldn't all have been coming from this place, could they? Were they migrating?

"Where are they coming from?"

Her hands had become numb on the hammer as she put up the upper walls, stopping to drive off even more graylings coming out of the forest. Luckily, these graylings were no more dangerous than those who attacked her main base and she only felt physically cold, not cold with terror. The second room was much better, with the roof carefully weather tight. When she finally carved the last letter of the portal's name, she stood back breathlessly and waited. After a number of minutes, nothing had happened. She checked it over, but everything was as it was supposed to be according to the mental instruction. 

"Panels, flares, eyes, carving, cores, and name them both...oh."

Doors shut tight against the scratching of the little irritants, she shaved off the carved name and began again, carefully making sure the name was initialed correctly. 

ONE

The flare of light startled her. The runes and the whole ring itself seemed to catch on fire and the clinging flames licked toward her, as if inviting her to step through. She glanced around her reluctant to attempt this audacious maneuver, yet wanting to get home to her fire and her bed so badly she ached for it.

"Everyone just...stay the way you are."

And she stepped through.

She was a little surprised to find herself actually back at home. She had almost expected to be flung somewhere out in the wilderness due to her own ineptitude. Finding herself on the solid wood floor of her own home was breathlessly comforting. She backed away from the still flaring portal. It calmed and the fire died away with a sigh. She had just crossed leagues and leagues with just a single step! The excitement exploded from her in a series of giggles, echoing around the room hollowly.

She wiped her eyes and steadied herself, and then made her way into the beckoning warmth, to sleep, to dream, of the next thing she would accomplish.

The next day that dawned bright and cheerful, she completed a sharp, pointy stake-wall all around her structure to protect it and reluctantly climbed back in the boat. She had to return it home, she couldn't just leave it here. The boat was precious, but she wanted to explore so badly. Her craving almost became her undoing. The wind again had become uncertain and she turned the bow of the little vessel further into the ocean than she had before. Much further. Far enough so that she reached another shore itself. It couldn't be the same land could it? No. It was across the water! It would be an awfully big bay. 

Her thoughts abruptly stopped as she peered portside and saw what appeared to be a house. A house, in the middle of the water! It was just, floating? Grillain swiftly took in sail and the little boat obeyed her command to slow. The misty air cleared a bit. No. It wasn't floating. The waves rocked back so she saw stilts holding the house up. She guided the boat closer, witnessing the water clearly washing across the rotting floor, its corners spotted with salt and tiny crustaceans.

As the mist parted for the boat, an island with a single bare twisted tree peeked over the waves. What was this place? The eerie nature of it drew her forward. It was threatening, but in an odd fascinating way. There was a faint aroma of decay that seemed to come from nowhere and yet existed. But only here. Sailing even a tick further, the aroma vanished. She came back around the island again nudging ever closer. From behind the twisted bare wood a burly humanoid figure stepped out.

It held an axe. Grillain almost shrieked her delight at seeing another person. Her cry cut off as the figure looked at her with glowing eyes, it's long straggly beard covered in moss, then walked straight into the water. And kept going. A rancid smell reached her and she nearly heeled the boat over in her zeal to pull away. Her father had told her too many stories of terrible walking dead, cursed to walk in their skins until their bodies had fallen apart. Unlike skeletons, Draugr remembered life and were angry enough to take vengeance on everything that came near them even as they wandered in their rotting bodies and minds.

They were so much more dangerous than the skeletons who had no muscles and no hate. The Draugr could run and grab. They had power and if they had magic in life, they kept that magic in death, using it to rend the flesh from the bones of their unlucky targets. Until they lost their own flesh, or one had incredibly strong armor, they were not to be trifled with.

Again she sailed past, this time at a respectful distance. The Draugr, having returned to standing at the tree, stared at her coldly as she passed, dripping salty water. She took a few potshots with her bow, but all it did was force the Draugr to enter the water again. She grumbled to herself. She really wanted to get rid of it, but her bow didn't do much good and the sun was getting pretty low. Reluctantly, she made sure she had a firm mark of the spot on her mental map and turned the boat for home. She wondered if there were other places like this. A swampy, dangerous spot with Draugr? 

She arrived through the portal to a dark, rainy morning. She grinned. It suited her purpose. Destruction. Today she would discover and scout out the lair of The Elder. Laden with tools, weapons, and food, she set off. At the edge of the forest she hesitated. What if she were afflicted with that same almost paralyzing fear she had suffered at the first stop near The Elder? Her mind automatically went to all the times she'd been fleeing from the trolls, weak and breathless, stumbling over berry bushes and shrubs. She needed a way out and there was no swift little boat inside the forest. Taking out her hoe she dragged it in the soft soil of the forests edge. She was gratified to see it came away easily, leaving a thick black line. With a will she went to work making sure there was at least a sketchy pathway leading all the way back to the edge of the forest. 

It was a slog, digging, avoiding trees and rocks, trying to keep going in the right direction, and stopping to smack down boars and graylings. It was when she finally hit a rock that was so big you could build a house on it that she gave it up. For awhile at least. She was tempted to flop down here right on the slick rock but the familiar sound of rain on wood planking drew her on. Was an abandoned house near here? She could at least get dry and rested. 

Through the chilling drizzle, dark blocks rose up in sight, shiny with rain dripping down them. A tower! This was fortuitous. So close to The Elder according to her map. Perhaps...perhaps she could make this a mini raiding camp? Just enough for a bed, a fire, and a place to store some food? 

Of course, she wouldn't be defeated, she just had to have options! 

She stretched fingers tight with exhaustion, but got to work quickly. She repaired the flooring and built walls and a secure door. The activity warmed and dried her. When she had completed it she felt, if not good, at least, secure. She waited on improving it with a fire and bed. Her eagerness to see The Elder's lair was too much to hold back now. She took a moment to build a box and left wood, core wood, rock, feathers, and some raw meat. 

She closed the door behind her and a smile flickered at the thatched porch roof obviously built by someone who liked comfort. Then all thoughts of the tower faded as she set off in a cool, now clear, dry morning. She did not continue her efforts to create a path. She figured she could do that later as she was running back and forth for supplies to prepare for her battle. At a trot, she almost tripped over a lone skeleton aimlessly wandering in the forest. She wondered where it came from, but not for too long. There was little that stopped her. Some thistle and blueberries. Her jam pots were getting low and she was a sucker for the sweet sticky substance. 

She was close to The Elder's lair when she came across one last unavoidable obstacle. It was a swirling mass of pink, green and black. Clouds surrounding what looked like vines poking through. As Grillain peered through the blaze of sunrise, she saw a familiar form wriggle out of the cloud and begin wandering around. A grayling? This was where they were coming from! A burst of purpose picked her up and she ran forward, no warning, axe raised and yelling an angry battle cry. The graylings and greydwarves there had no time to react as she waded in stomping, smashing, and screaming. She flailed with her axe until there was nothing to hit anymore. She came down slowly from her berserk rage and the scream died away in her throat. Around her, dead monsters and broken vines were fading into bits and pieces. She plucked a random Greydwarf eye that stuck to her foot and tossed it away. She had no need of it now, and goodness knew, there were still enough of those little aggravations around to kill.  

She returned to her path forward. Up a long rocky slope, she glimpsed the lair through the trees. Tall spires of carved rock. As she got closer she saw a large platform of stone blocks. Four pillars at each corner stood sentinels to an ancient pit of fire blazing away in front of a rune scribed stone.

Did all the Prey have altars? Were they so dangerous they had to be locked away unless summoned? Or was that how they survived? Remaining in torpor until summoned to be battled against? Scraping her fingers against the runed stone, she read.

BURN THEIR YOUNG

Burn their young? But how was she supposed to know what they looked like?

A vision of the trophy circle came to mind. Pictures graven upon the rocks. Closing her eyes she groaned. She'd never made the connection that those pictures actually TOLD her what the Forsaken all looked like!  The tall tree-like carving. This was...an Ent? 

Grillain's confidence wavered. Ents were terrifyingly tall. Part of the giant race, these creatures were so violent they couldn't even live in Jotunheim with all the rest of the giants. The greydwarf shamans and brutes were very ent like, though much smaller. Burn their young. That must refer to the seeds the greydwarves dropped when they died. She turned to look around the platform. Greenery and cracks marred the surface of the tall spires. How was she supposed to do this? Kill an Ent? Was it even possible?

Grillain's breath caught in her throat the next moment. A choking tightness in her chest told her something was near. Something angry, something dangerous. And it was summoning other dangerous things. She staggered, unable to clear her thoughts for the snowy fuzziness in her brain. The voice that flew around the platform was gritty with age and anger.

You cannot prevail. You are a weak fleshy creature with no strength in your heart. Come back when you have spirit, when you can fight! Now GO!

The last word did lend wings to Grillain's feet. She was running through the forest, cursing her thoughtlessness at not finishing her pathway. Hordes of greydwarves hounded her heels and she felt, rather than heard, the rumbling step of a troll right behind them. She stumbled over rocks over logs. Their claws were in her hair and on her cloak, pulling at her. Gasping hard, she knew, she wasn't going to make it. She was going to be crushed, torn apart, devoured! She was too tired, too stupid, too old…

She broke through the tree line, going down in a heap on the soft grass of the meadow, waiting for the final strike, for the end. But it never came. 

Chest heaving she rolled over and saw...nothing. Just the edge of the Black Forest where the line of peaceful trees met the grass. And a short distance away, her house stood perfectly still, awaiting her arrival. Birds chirped in defiance of her minds insistence the world was ending. 

"Gods that Forsaken has some power. To make me so afraid. He could make my own nightmares come to life! How will I ever defeat him?"

The Race to Nowhere

This week, Grillain is rather quiet. Her whole target is to gather enough resources to get to her next prey, The Elder. She has no idea what this prey is, but she knows she's going to have to go a long LONG way to get to him. She's going to have to secure enough meat, enough weapons, enough wood, to get there and set up a raiding camp! 

—

As she slept, she dreamed. She stood upon the prow of a great ship, the salty spray in her face and the gulls shrieking joyfully above her. She turned her head and saw herself in her village. It was such a bright, sunny place far south of the rest of their kind. She remembered what it was to be alive. It was pleasant.

The vision faded, replaced by another vision. This one was the shadowy Valkyrie.

*Pleasant? But not as rewarding.*

The Valkyrie showed her all her accomplishments since getting being brought to Valheim. Depending on no one, she had built a fortification, a comfortable house, made weapons, conquered monsters. 

*You did this.*

"I did this." She agreed into the darkness of the dream place.

The Valkyrie's silence was weighty, as if its next words were so important, it did not want Grillain to forget. 

*You can do more. To get to the places you cannot reach easily, you must construct an item of such power, it will transport you instantly from one place to another. The construction is complicated and difficult, but you have access to everything you need to make it.*

Behind the Valkyrie, a circle of fire lit up, glowing in the dark. Fascinated, Grillain reached past the Valkyrie toward it and as her hand came in contact with it, the image of the item seared itself in her mind, the runes she had to carve on its surface burning themselves onto her tongue. The power source came from two of the surtling cores. The eyes of the gray dwarves themselves focused the power of the fiery ring.

*Portals are great for fast travel between different parts of the world. Of course, you need to build one on the other end as well, then give the pair the same name, and they will be automatically connected!*

Build two rings. Call them both the same name. What a dream! But what could she see if she could move that fast. She could build one across the water near The Elder and build a raiding base. Abruptly, she was awake. The birds chirping and the fire hissing as it consumed the last of its fuel. No Valkyrie. If she was going to put this plan into motion, she was going to have to take precautions while she was gone.

Spikes were not the hardest thing to build, but placing them was worse than building. In the midst of wedging one in the garden wall, it all came tumbling down. Grumbling, she replaced the wall and set the spike. At the end of the wall, she shoved a spike just a little too hard and felt a nasty pain sear her arm. A trickle of blood reminded her NOT to push so hard.  Irritably she swiped away the blood. It was a deep, painful cut.  She looked at her hand. 

Blood. Her own blood. She thought of all the blood she'd spilled. She wasn't too concerned with that, it was an inevitability that came with being the Viking woman she was. But even though she knew she could come back, at least a number of times, something else tugged at her. 

"Am I becoming insensible to my own fate?"

Her voice escaped into the sounds of necks in the water, the rustle of wind in the trees, an occasional bark of a deer. There was no læknir to stitch her wound and no one to fuss over her.

"I'm alone. I'm really alone."

The recognition of that simple fact was like knowing you had been eating the best food you had ever eaten, and yet, you only had one bite left. She had her memories of father, of her village, of her world. But they were only memories.

"There have to be other people here. Somewhere. Not all of them perished."

A wash of relief flooded her. Belief was a powerful motivator. She also felt the nagging sourness of fear in the back of her throat which she ignored. 

"I have to be very careful from now on. I cannot let myself become stone hearted."

She ignored the emptiness that greeted her words and turned for the garden. Moss would stop the bleeding eventually. Food would replace her blood. Good food.  From her stash she made soup. The sweetness of fresh carrots straight from her garden was complimented by the earthy character of the large chunks of mushroom in the rich broth. It was hot and satisfying. Wiping her face on her sleeve, she opened her treasure box. If her dream was real, she needed more than two of the glowing cores. Each portal took two. She'd already wound around the cold place up north and had seen no more barrows in the forest. She'd have to try going south this time. 

Running was a wonderful activity when done in the bright sunshine of the afternoon. She found herself at the end of her mapped path quickly. Without hesitation she plunged on through the strings of meadow. A break in the trees brought her to a welcome sight. Although there were no people, she saw another village space with many buildings still standing. More importantly, there were shrubs of berries and fencing. It looked as if these people had once fenced off the bushes. The reason became apparent as a boar snuffled up to a shrub and scarfed down a mouthful of the berries. A grin lit up Grillain's face. 

Fencing was not difficult, she'd been doing it since she was knee high to a grasshopper. She enclosed as many shrubs as she could and tried to avoid triggering the boar's reflex to chase her. She tore down all but one building inside the area to build more fencing and a gate, even incorporating the last structure into the pen. Finally she completed it and turned to tease the boar, but it was nowhere to be found. She sighed. Circling around the back of the building she heard an angry squeal. 

"There it is!"

She took off at a dead run and heard the angry porcine barge through shrubs and grass in its attempt to get to her. She came to the gate and flung herself inside.

"Come on piggie piggie!"

Her insulting tone goaded the boar into bolting for her and it wiggled past the gate. She slammed it closed and endured an angry swipe of its tusks before she was able to take off running, She scaled the fence and heard the boar slide to a stop behind her. Hearing a squeal from a different direction she whirled, but nothing outside the fence caught her eye. She realized the squeal was coming from inside the pen.

"Two! There was one inside the fence!  Good piggies! Good piggies!"

Wandering the inside of the fence, the boars continued to try to attack her, angrily charging again and again. Maybe she should leave them alone? Her light step allowed her to scramble up the roof of the building she had incorporated into the fence and sat on the roof ridge, trying to be patient. The boars ran around for a long time snuffling here and there. When they came close enough, Grillain tossed bits of food down. Raspberries, carrots, mushrooms. 

It took so much longer than she wanted to stay there. The hours of the afternoon ticked over into night. The hours of the night passed in an interminable stretch of boredom and stars. Every time she came down, the boars squealed and charged the fence to the point where she was worried they would destroy it. She created a bench inside the fenced off area and was gratified to see they focused on that, snapping and tusking it. 

Around the time the stars in the sky began to fade, the porky pawns finally calmed down slightly, even ignoring her on occasion. As the first light poured over the sky one of the boars came to her of its own accord, whuffling softly. She patted it and it laid its ear contentedly on her leg. The other took slightly longer, but it too finally accepted her. Leaving them lots of food, she gave them both more pats before leaving. 

"Good piggies, make babies while I'm gone!"

She was not very happy leaving vulnerable tamed creatures by themselves, but she did not want to take the time to create a better fence and to be honest, there were LOTS of boars around. She had to find cores, which would be central to her efforts to create a quick pathway to and from her raiding camp. Her run into the Black Forest was cautious but quick. She ran into nothing but a few gray dwarves which she smacked into oblivion. Only their eyes went into her bag. 

She was intent on finding a barrow when she came across a strange plant. It's sparse green leaves left the little plant stretched, reaching for the scraps of light available to it. Atop the whole thing was a fuzzy glowing poof of bright blue flower. 

"Oh, it's so beautiful."

Grillains fingers wrapped around the bottom of the plant and snapped the stem with a quick jerk. The flower itself had a heavenly aroma and reminded her very much of the thistles she used to cook with meat. She plucked all she saw and continued on. 

The rest of her day was not exciting, though she encountered three trolls. Two of them she killed easily. In between the trolls she scoured the barrows she found for cores, though she did take just a few pieces of treasure like coins and the odd ruby for herself. 

It was when her axe had grown dull from destroying skeletons and her arrows had been depleted to two flimsy flint heads that she became concerned, and turned for home. She had stopped to pluck more thistle when a familiar rumble in back of her lent wings to her feet. Her weapons were not capable of taking on a troll now! As fast as she ran, she heard the steady whump whump of feet behind her and occasionally a tree near her exploded as the troll following her let loose with its solid club.

She almost laughed when the troll turned away from chasing her and she turned her feet for home, streaking over the landscape lightly, avoiding necks, boars, deer, and graylings alike. Once home, she added the six precious surtling cores to the ones she had and settled them all in the box, gently caressing them with a hand. Next she walked outside and looked at the space she had. She went inside and looked at her workshop. She was NOT a fan of putting the portal in the workshop itself. It would be creepy having an artifact of that kind of power right where she worked. No. It would have to be placed in a separate building. 

Outside, she chopped down the last pine tree that was close to her and used the wood to create core posts and then floor posts. Frustratingly, it was not positioned well and she had to try again and again to get it to line up with her workshop. Hours later, a rumble overhead warned her the rain was coming. 

"AAAAUUURRRRRRGH! I HATE DESIGNING!"

She was so bad at this! Nothing ever came out the way she thought it would in her head. Why couldn't she have maps of how buildings were supposed to be built, like the map of the world she made in her head? Angrily she tore up everything she had already placed. Giving in to the inevitable, she attached floor panels directly to the wall of the workshop on the outside wall, essentially creating a room off the workshop with a door to the outside. As the rain poured down on her she built the walls and lashed thatching together. She struggled to position the corner thatching correctly. Doggedly she continued on, positioning flat thatched panels against the corner pieces. 

She realized as the last panel fell into place that the rain was no longer pouring down on her. It was hushing against the thatching and plopping into the mud outside. She carefully repaired the floor panels that were beginning to warp from the rain. Feeling a bit brighter now that the rain wasn't soaking her, she fetched fine wood. She shaped and carved it into the circular structure with flaring curves she saw in her minds eye. She nestled the gray dwarf eyes within the carving and deep within the base of the whole ring she buried the cores. On the ring itself she carefully carved its name.

"ONE"

Boats & Serpents & Leviathans Oh My

The deck of Grillain's home was in particular the shining star of her successful building efforts. It was a wide platform that allowed her to see all the way to the other side of the water. She'd never seen that other side, but when the sun set it was as if the whole world was lit up with fire. It filled up her whole soul and she spent as much time up there as she could. Today she was scraping down the troll hides she'd gotten from her last battle. She was going to insert thin strips of skeleton bone into the hide and use it as an armored cloak. 

As she worked, she wondered what the land on the other side of the water actually looked like. Tall hills, possibly mountains were obvious from her vantage point. It pricked her adventurous curiosity, but she had no way of reaching that place. She'd tried swimming, but she ran out of stamina after a short time and almost drowned getting back to land. Even with a top skill at swimming, she'd never make the other side. What she really needed was a boat. For a moment she paused in her movements. A boat. How hard would it be to build a boat? She'd never actually sailed. Could she figure it out? 

Setting the troll hide on its stretcher aside, she trotted downstairs to look at her little bay. It was very shallow which didn't bode very well for a sailing vessel. Even she knew you had to have more than just a puddle to paddle in. After dropping a number of items experimentally in the shallow bay she gave it up as a lost cause. If she wanted to do this, she'd have to do it the right way. Greylings would tear her boat to pieces if she didn't protect it. Maybe...a boat house? If she built it first, she could build the vessel in complete safety! 

It took a number of days and a few adjustments before she was finally happy with the boat house, which had a deck with stairs, a workbench and two strong doors. Simple, useful. Digging out that ground was the crappiest, sweatiest, most patience destroying activity that Grillain had undertaken yet. Intelligently, she dug out 90 percent of the ground before she broke the "wall" to let water come flooding in. But even then, she wound up floating, waiting for the waves to take enough water out so she could get her feet on the ground long enough to take a swing at the remaining ground. 

Then came the boat. It might have been laughable, if her father had been there. As a child she'd decided to run away once, so she'd gathered up a whole bunch of sticks and tied them together with rope. It was not particularly effective. She'd almost sunk like a stone until her father had rescued her. Luckily this time she had more resources than sticks and rope. And, she knew how to swim. This time she used common wood logs secured with hardened resin. Her mast was a little funky and crooked. The sail was a bunch of leather scraps all sewn together. She knew she had to have a rudder, so she built one, but had no idea how it worked. 

The first attempt at sailing was...amusing. Not because of the raft. The raft actually hung together quite well!  Sitting on the flat logs, she yanked the sail rope and it fluttered down. Almost immediately the tiny craft shot forward and slammed into the boat house wall. She yelped and yanked the rope to bring the sail up. How had her ancestors actually learned this? Should she pray to Odin for teaching? She glanced around for the valkyrie, but oddly enough, it seemed to have abandoned her. She hardly ever saw it anymore. It was just too bad there wasn't some magical item she could use to just ASK how to sail the raft. What a glorious object that would be!

Heaving a hefty sigh, she tried again. Twisting the rudder caused a gentle backward movement. Lowering the sail by just a little bit was ok too. But when she lowered the sail all the way, it still caused her to lunge forward, slamming into the rocks, into the stairs, into the side of the boat house. She would have wept if it would have done her any good, but she thought there was enough salt water as it was. 

She finally experimented with turning the rudder instead of just twisting it and that gave her a left and right movement that finally allowed her to guide the little craft out onto the open water. Happily she began sailing down the coast. It was too nerve wracking for her to go for broke and set out into the wide open water. She settled for going up and down the coast a little bit, very close to shore. But this did her no good. If she didn't feel safe, she couldn't possibly go anywhere. Not really. She needed speed which meant a bigger sail. She also needed to feel a bit enclosed, which meant sides. She'd just have to build an actual boat!  As the final indignity, when she got the raft back to the boathouse, a brisk wind and her own ignorance forced her to one side right into the too-shallow bay. The raft ground up on one of the hills and no amount of fidgeting with the rudder or sail would budge the little vessel. She was forced to abandon it there, splashing from the raft to the shore.

The boat she managed to wrench out was, surprisingly, good! It took quite a bit of her more valuable resources. Fine, light, strong wood from the birch. Eight whole handfuls of bronze nails. More resin, and instead of just leather scraps, she stitched together her best deer hides for the sail. She made sure to use the best trunk for the mast, so it now stood tall, straight, and balanced. Building it didn't even make her tired. She almost felt as if she'd flicked out a hand and dropped the whole thing right into the water. Wisely, she had built a storage compartment into it. Some extra wood went in there for repairs.

She was up before the sun and sailing as the water sparkled in the cool air. The boat moved her about twice as fast as the raft, which was faster than she thought she'd go. Halfway down the coast the thought occurred to her, if she could move this fast, maybe this boat could help her get close to the Elder! A wave of water sprayed away from the curving sides of the boat as she turned that baby around and started in the opposite direction. Fast as she could she pointed it in the direction she wanted to go. 

And stopped.

The boat literally refused to go any further. Yanking on the sail didn't help. She pleaded with the gods, but there was no response.  She turned the rudder and when she had the ship pointed the OTHER way, it moved!

"That is NOT helpful Njörd!"

The god of wind also did not respond verbally, but after figuring out which way the wind was blowing, Grillain was able to tack back and forth in a fashion that allowed her to make slow progress and slowly the wind changed. Almost as if Njörd were rewarding her for learning about the wind. 

It was now quite glorious, skimming the waves like a seabird did, the sun on her face, passing giant rocks with shiny piles on them in the middle of the ocean. Grillain blinked and looked to the side where indeed, a giant rock with shiny piles was quickly vanishing behind them. Mines? How could there be mines out here in the ocean? 

But Grillain had no time to think of an answer, for a deeply disturbing scream heralded the arrival of something too big to be ignored. The scream literally shook the air around her. The sound rattled through her very bones. Her breath caught at an almost endless ripple that began at the front of the boat and extended all the way to the back. Fins followed a winding path along the ripple and Grillain knew she was in trouble. 

The water behind her exploded upward. Green scales and red fins heralded the arrival of a gigantic sea serpent. But they were only tales! Tales to frighten children from taking the boat out! Heart seizing with fear, Grillain had to admit that this was the tale turned to life. A monster with a lightning fast strike and more teeth than she could possibly count. It's mouth flared bright red and a terrible crunch followed the whistle of its attack. Splintering wood echoed her groan of despair. She began to fire arrows at the serpent, but realized quickly, they weren't doing a whole lot of damage because the arrows would simply snuff out as it hit their target! 

She alternated firing her bow with attempting to get the boat to go faster into shallow water. She took a terrible risk skimming the waves right over sandy shoals near what she KNEW was black forest. If a troll came along, she'd have to abandon the boat. 

"No No No, not my boat! Not my boat!"

Perhaps it was Odin that had blessed her, perhaps the serpent just got tired of being pinpricked in the face. Grillain never found out. All of a sudden, it just swam away, it's winding coils vanishing back into the deeper waves of the ocean. She slumped into the seat of the boat, heart still pounding, almost giggling hysterically. Being defeated wouldn't be so bad. Losing the boat, that would be a disaster. There was only so much nice birch to be had! A quick stop right there on the sandbar put the boat to rights as she repaired slats that stuck out at odd angles. 

As soon as she had calmed down from the terror of almost becoming someone's lunch, she launched herself again into the water, this time following a little closer to shore. Her mental map told her that the Elder was across the water and so she dutifully turned for a trip across what had become more of a river than an ocean. She was startled and pleased to find many perfect spots to create a raiding camp. Lots of wood. She could build a little shop. She wished she could figure out a better way to get there other than crossing the water, but what she'd found was hopeful! Exploration would keep her busy.

She felt a sprinkle and was swiftly reminded of another frequent occurrence on the water. Rain. There was no land to break up the weather, so storms almost always came up quite literally "out of the blue." Within minutes, the beautiful blue sky and sun was transformed into a dark grey roiling mass with water pouring down on her. The wind howled around her ears and made trying to guide the boat a nightmare. Trying to go toward land was a mistake. The waves tried to drown the boat by flinging it over on its side. 

As her choices became slim, she pointed the nose of the boat into the waves and finally the sail bulged with the force of the wind and she felt the craft pick up and go. Up and down. Up and down. Ahead of her she spied the large curve of the gray rock and took in sail until the boat eased to a drift in the rocking waves. She didn't want to go any closer to the rock until the wind had eased. 

An hour or more later, she was convinced it wasn't going to happen. She eyed the odds that the boat might be smashed and decided to take the chance. Seizing her pick, she very carefully nudged the little boat as close to the rock as she could, then leaped for all she was worth, landing heavily on the rock. She knelt next to one of the shiny piles and as soon as her hand touched it, she knew it wasn't metal. It felt more like the fibrous exoskeleton of some type of shellfish. Not quite like a barnacle. Carefully she wedged her pick under the lip of the growth, but it didn't quite come loose. Setting her feet on the rock surface she gave a hefty swing. As the whole object popped up, she felt a shudder run through the rock. Was it some kind of earthquake? It WAS a rock...wasn't it?

Cautiously, she aimed her pick at another pile and struck. The shudder this time didn't stop. She snatched up the two piles of shiny material and stumbled, seeing waves come toward her. Waves? Was the rock sinking? A muffled roar accompanied the shuddering. Slipping and scrambling, she slid across the rock just as it began sinking right down into the ocean. The waves deposited her unceremoniously into her boat and a wave of cold water washed across her back. It wasn't a rock, it was some kind of leviathan! Spitting out salty seawater she tucked the material into her pack and slightly miserable, made her way back to the rudder to let loose the sail and ride the waves for home. 

There was no better sight than that calm little haven that was the boathouse. The boat seemed to slide in cautiously of its own accord right next to the stairs and she fondly patted the rail as if it were a favored pet.

"Thank you my friend, for returning me home."

The boat rocked gently with the waves in a nonplussed manner. She left it and dragged herself into the nearest gate and to her fireplace next to her bed. The shiny material tumbled out of her pack and she carefully fingered it. The material looked to be good for carving. Maybe a hook? Visions of hooking one of those sea serpents came to mind. If she could get some of those shiny scales, she could make a scale shield that would hold off the nastiest gray dwarf or skeleton! 

Gently, gently, she began to drift to sleep and climbed into her bed. She wondered about all the things she could do if she could reach The Elder. Her next Prey…

Valheim Episode 4: Obsession?

Dear Reader,

In this stream, I was specifically asked about the current books that I was reading. I must admit, I gave a lackluster answer. Me, the queen of description can't talk about books I read, yet I can navigate my way through complicated scientific papers describing immunity, microgravity experiments, or genetic shifts in wheat. I don't think this is a problem in my expression, but rather my emotions while actively speaking. The best thing for me to do in this case, is to go back and try it again. Inevitably I do get better at it. So I will make you this promise. The next Valheim stream, I will go back to the subject and describe the books I am reading in much more detail than just "It's a good fantasy." For now, come and join me in Dragons & Red Shirts where I give you a look in at my writing by playing games and then writing about what happens during that game.  

Writers also need to challenge their own views and ways of thinking, much as scientists do. This gives us "the whole picture" as it were. So this week the story is a little different. You've been looking at Valheim from one viewpoint, but what if you saw it just a bit differently? Can I convince you that this vision is just as valid? What will you feel as you read and listen to it? I wish I could know what you think as you do, for that is my job, to make you take your own journey, even as I describe Grillains. 

—

The aroma drifting in the air was different than it usually was. It was smoky, with a touch of dead animal. He sniffed the air carefully. It was the kind of smell that made you hesitant because it could be dangerous. 

"Do you smell that?" 

"Smell what? Smell what? Smell nothing!"

Wide, glittering eyes stared up at him even as the little grey creatures wandered around his feet. Their long fingers explored the greenery at his gigantic feet, sometimes plucking the fruit. Theirs was a beloved, tentative relationship. He'd never hurt them. They knew that, but he was so big they were just a bit wary of him anyway. Silly, scatterbrained things. If it wasn't right in front of them, it may as well not exist.  Giving a huff and a stretch he stood up. His head topped many of the trees in the forest. His little friends, the animals of the understory, the shrubs and rocks, trolls had a unique perspective on all of them. He wandered off, looking for breakfast. This generally consisted of an eclectic range of vegetation and whatever happened to have died around him. His little friends sometimes killed things and didn't bother to eat it so he took care to scoop up the meat for himself. 

He was three bites into a hunk of raw meat when his current batch of little grey friends stiffened, straining to hear something he could not. It happened frequently enough that it did not alarm him. They were sensitive, these odd little wrinkled beings. This time though, it was more than just a momentary alert. A few of the smaller ones called out and ran off into the trees, arms waving in alarm. He hesitated, lowering his food. They would come back, if they could, to tell him what they saw. 

After a time he noticed that all of his friends were beginning to be agitated. The little grey ones, the big brutes, even the shaman rattled their bones and rumbled with agitation. He stood and picked up a log. Still, he hovered. Which way to go? He stepped carefully, going cautiously in a random direction. And he heard it. A thump. And another thump. Like something striking wood. A little streak of grey appeared at his feet.

"Forest Forest Forest Forest!" it screamed, incoherently angry.

"What about the forest?"

But it would not listen. His growl echoed across the hills.

"Show me!" 

The command managed to turn the little creature back the way it came and it began leading him. He had to go slow until the sound of thumping became clear. Now he saw it. A tall tree toppled in the forest. A tree in his forest was being chopped down! 

Everything that they had here, all the trees, all the rocks, all the hillsides, all the creatures, all the bushes. This was their home, all they had ever known. He defended it against the swamp goers and in return the land gave them everything they needed to survive. A tense relationship existed with the skeletons. The undead were...weird. They would attack his little friends with no hesitation at all, but they smelled like they too were a part of this place. He attacked them when they got too obstreperous, otherwise he'd leave them alone.

This creature though, whatever it was. It did not belong. It smelled strange, it was bigger than some of his little friends, smaller than others and it wielded its weapon with deathly intent. His footsteps increased as he spied it. Just in range, he swung his log taking out several trees himself but it was worth it to watch the little thing run in what appeared to be abject terror.

"What are you doing here? Get out of my forest! Get out! Thief! Despoiler! Cretin!"

He chased the strange smelling invader. All the way to the meadows. Which seemed strange, this wasn't usually his territory and he would have thought he'd see another troll here. The invader kept running and in an abundance of caution he turned away. His thumping footsteps retreated back toward the trees, figuring that was enough. He was, therefore, surprised to feel a sting on the back of his arm. He turned, plucked it out and looked dumbfounded at the fiery arrow in his palm. Another fire arrow flew through the air and sank into his chest. That one really hurt! The fire scared his little friends into gibbering terror. They whooped, the bigger, older greys streaming toward the source of the arrows, most of the younger greylings ran in mad circles trying to stay away from the fire. 

The pricks of the arrows lent speed to troll feet. He launched himself through the trees with little regard for anything in his path. He did not stop at the edge of the meadow. He was encouraged when the invader looked to be tiring. Then it made a big mistake. It tripped and he was on it. The log came down and smashed the invader into the hillock until it just didn't move anymore. A shadow formed over the body and he knew it was over. The invader had been defeated. He hovered, torn by his feeling of victory and the pain the arrows had left behind. With a huff, he stomped off, back toward his forest.

It was a scary precedent, seeing this weird creature in his forest. He had a vague recollection of seeing places, built by others, now falling down and abandoned. Could those others have survived? Were they returning to these forests? There was one he could ask. A guardian of these big forests. The God of the boar and the háls. The one who could make the forest move. 

The sacred site of Eikthyr was distressingly empty when he arrived. The ground and surrounding area were covered with distressing remnant bits of bone and broken trees. His large finger scraped the altar stone with uncertainty. But he was gratified to hear a response to his call.

"Old Stomper. What do you do here? You are far from your territory."

"I come seeking wisdom Eikthyr. You who know the meadows. I have seen an invader who shoots arrows of fire and strikes at my trees."

"Ah yes. The murderer of Sif. I have seen it. Odin is returning humans to these lands to defeat us. This human has chosen your lands to get resources from. Have a care. She has a wicked hand with her bow and axe."

"I have felt her weapon, and struck her down, but Sif! Sif is dead?"

"Do you doubt it? When the invader returns, look sharp. She wears Sif's skin as armor. She has declared her intent to do Odin's bidding, returning control of Valheim to the humans. Take care Old Stomper. Take great care or we will all find ourselves second to the humans."

The voice of Eikthyr faded, leaving Stomper in anger and confusion. He returned to his forest slowly. The afternoon wore on but he heard no more thumping of the human's axe. Instead he skirted his own territory into Sif's and there on the coast, he discovered the truth of it. No more greylings inhabited this area. Her cave was abandoned, dusty with her absence. The shields, so carefully prized from the hands of skeletons hung in her cave, but they too were dusty and forgotten. It could not have been long. Her musky scent lingered, though she was not here. 

Night saw him curl up in her den, thinking fondly of the way she liked blueberries and how she was just a little awkward sometimes. His heart ached and his broken, abused skin stung. This would not go unpunished. The next day he woke with purpose and strode out to meet his foe. The greyling army was happy at this turn of events. They shrieked as he told them his plan to decimate everything the human built and then kill her over and over again until she never came back. For him, they ran ahead and began hunting for her. 

The human was out again today, and he heard not only the thump of her axe, but the ping of a lode of copper being attacked. What could a human want with a lode of copper metal? His growl again echoed through the forest, ringing off the trees. He saw her dart from the corner of his eye and followed her. She was fast! The deer took no chances with this human, he saw them flee as she ran past, barking in terror. He slowed as he approached a construction he did not recognize. There was a big wall all around what were now rebuilt human dwellings. This place which had once had the wind blowing through it was alive with fire and new wood. He walked the perimeter of the wall reluctantly. Could he just keep her in there? It was possible. But the second his back was turned he felt the sting of her arrows goading him to return once again. The greylings helped him, chasing her back inside her wall, but not before she took down a good handful of them. He bashed the trees close to the wall in order to see her place better, but this had an unintended effect. She had a clear line of sight to him now and her arrows pricked him with terrible accuracy! Groaning in pain, he turned his back on her, intent on finding relief deep within the forest. She refused to give up the battle, however, and chased him.

This tiny human creature. With only an axe, arrows, and a pick. She was tormenting him, destroying his home, killing his friends. He came back again and again, chasing her all the way back to the wall and inside her territory. Each time, she would climb on a rickety collection of wooden pieces in order to get high enough to get the best shots at him. Stomper could see that Eikthyr had spoken true. The human wore the skin of Sif. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze until her head popped off! The battle lasted through the night, until the very early hours of morning. He managed to destroy part of the wall as the sky brightened slightly and he entered the compound intent on wiping out everything when disaster happened. 

Breathing hard from running back and forth all night, Grillain sighted down the end of the arrow. This one had to count. The arrow burst to life as it left the bow and slammed right into the beast's chest. It staggered him and he swayed.

"One more. I just need one more!"

Down on one knee, Stomper looked at the tiny human. 

"Why?" he called, "Odin, why?"

There was no answer for him. The last arrow found his heart and he knew, the darkness would not only claim him, but many of his brethren. This warrior would lay waste to all they had known and loved.

Grillain almost collapsed in relief as the troll fell. She climbed down from her rickety perch. It had been a brilliant plan, keeping him coming back for more until she could destroy him. She stood over the troll triumphantly. His eyes followed her as his breathing weakened. 

"I will destroy every troll on the face of Valheim, just as I destroyed you."

She watched his lips form silent, unintelligible words and then the light in his eyes faded and vanished from Valheim forever.

Episode 3: No Time For Time

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Join me in this week's episode of Dragons and Red Shirts where I wound up running around like a maniac when what I really wanted to do was just enjoy the environment. Dragons and Red Shirts gives me the opportunity to improve my writing skills by creating short stories out of the games I play and stream. This ensures that you, the reader, are getting the best out of me. As is all too common in writing of course, I just couldn't fit everything into this episode because I don't want these to be too long. Things I left out? The defensive wall, the two extra mass attacks by grey dwarves, and death by troll. again. Oh, the morality thing? Dear readers, there will never be a time when I am not concerned with the morality of an action, even in a game. 

—

Following a troll was actually very difficult. Grillain was forced to move from bit of cover to bit of cover as the blue skinned monster paced along the shoreline. Every once in a while it would stop and sniff the air, move a few paces toward Grillain, but then turn back. It was unsure where she was, and lost interest easily. She was persistent though. She wanted to get close enough to bring it down, but in the right spot! In heavy forest she'd be TOO much of a target. That thing ripped up trees like breaking twigs while she had to scramble over rocks, getting tired all the time. Early morning hours passed as she kept following.

"Gr. Stomp. Gr. Stomp. Why don't you just fall off the edge of Valheim you big brute?"

Abruptly the troll disappeared and Grillain blinked.

"I didn't mean that literally. What happened?"

Grillain crept forward, keeping herself hidden. As she got closer her heart sped up and she flared her nostrils to take in more air. A healthy sense of fear seized hold of her. She didn't want the troll breaking her either. As she came to the edge of where she last saw the troll, it's head appeared, moving back and forth. Across the expanse of clearing, Grillain saw the perfect opportunity to get some vital hits in before it came after her. She whipped out her bow and the brand new arrows she had fashioned. The whole head of the wooden arrow was soaked in flammable resin. A tiny piece of flint attached to the bow created a spark as the projectile was loosed so the whole arrow lit up like a tiny bolt of fire as it flew. It set fire to anything it sank into. It was very destructive. 

One, two, three arrows. She got the aim perfect and she saw flares of fire as they hit their target squarely. The troll flung its arms around itself and she could see it move back and forth even faster. At this extreme range she couldn't really tell how hard it had been hit, but she decided to stay where she was and kept firing arrows. 

But why wasn't it moving toward her? Any arrow would tell the beast where she was and it should have come striding over the clearing to beat the unloving crap out of her by now. Her heart calmed after the tenth arrow and she became too curious to resist moving closer. The morning birds had all fallen silent as her arrows passed and all she heard was her own footsteps swishing through the now dry grass. She kept her bow at the ready.

Just past the trees, right up against the shore of the water, the cliff face appeared to have crumbled. The troll angrily stomped back and forth. It's head and shoulders were covered with seared marks and it rumbled weakly. It was obviously close to being defeated. Lifting her bow, Grillain couldn't believe her luck. It was trapped! She sighted down the arrow. Oh elation. What an opportunity! 

Ten seconds later, the arrow hadn't left the bow. 

"What am I doing? It's just…it's just a monster."

Walking around on two legs. With those two eyes. Howling. Trapped. Killing a deer wasn't like this. If it had chased her she wouldn't have had a problem killing it. It was just a troll. The real problem cut into Grillain's chest. Was it an animal, or was it a sentient innocent? 

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a monster. Like the skeletons!"

But it didn't look like a skeleton. It also didn't look like those nasty greylings with their long emaciated fingers. It had clothing. It was also trapped. It didn't feel quite fair. If it had been a deer she would have been more than happy to trap it in one of her three sided nets and shoot it at leisure. But it wasn't an animal. And it was helpless. She didn't want to make it suffer, she just wanted to get rid of it! Her bow raised and then lowered again. The troll let out another howl of pain and Grillain swallowed hard. She raised the bow and sighted very carefully.

The troll hit the ground without another sound, but Grillain didn't feel any better. She skinned it swiftly. The thick blue hide would make excellent armor. Surprisingly, it also had coins on it in a little belt pouch. What would a monster want with coins? She took them with gentle fingers. Did this change how she felt about trolls? Absolutely not! They were dangerous monsters who needed to be cleared out of this land so that Valheim could once more be populated by Odin's chosen. The crack of thunder echoed a gust of wind. Without another thought, she took her prizes, including the trolls head, and walked home through the rain. 

"I need a break."

The morning's rays peeked through a thin edge of roof thatching into Grillain's eyes. As always, she felt no urge to turn over and go back to sleep. She just sat up, clear eyed and ready to go. It was another invaluable benefit to this place that was not the home she'd known.  

Her path was not for wood today, nor for metals, nor for Prey. Today was just for her. She wanted to wander, she wanted to seek and see what she would find. all her tools went into her pack or onto her belt. Her hammer, her pick, her good sharp axe. It was only at the last moment on the way out the door she snatched up the almost forgotten bow and plenty of arrows. With the troll dead she wasn't likely to see any action but perhaps a few greylings. 

The coast was quiet and she used a torch to light her way for a while. The lapping of the waves on the shoreline was peaceful. Fog rolled in, it's misty tendrils tentative across the green grass. It was not intrusive to her view, only ornamental. She continued on, past where she'd killed the troll, past where she'd mined tin. She left the smells and bright sounds of the meadows for the deeper, earthier environment of the Black Forest. The rocky cliffs were a bit more dangerous, the waves crashing a bit harder. 

Upon one of these cliffs, tucked away into a pocket overlooking the ocean, was an old structure. It didn't look exactly like a house, though it was small enough to be one. It had a tall roof and was a bit longer than the normal places she'd seen. A strange urge grabbed her and she took out her hammer, easily replacing panels and securing them so the whole place was once again solid.  She set up a box and a bench in the corner and the urge fled, as if it had been satisfied. She left a few arrows and berries in the box as a tribute to whichever spirit happened to inhabit this place. It hadn't taken long and she was back on her way quickly. 

Soon enough the rocky shoreline became difficult to traverse. She realized the rocks were becoming bigger, until she found herself standing on one big enough to run on. That was odd. She'd never noticed anything this big except when she entered the barrow…

Grillain froze. Very carefully she slid down and around the pile until she came face to face with the giant shadowed entry way. This was definitely a troll den. Her eyes watered slightly. It even smelled like it! Surely this was where the troll had lived. What did it look like inside, she wondered.

Carefully she crept forward, past the opening, into the dark smelly interior. It was surprisingly bare here. The walls weren't dripping with slime or feces. However, whether it was the shifting of the rock or what Grillain really thought it was, a short deep rumbling sound caused Grillain to reverse course and scramble headlong out of the cave. Her feet didn't stop once outside but kept taking her back along her course, tripping and scuffling until she reached the dubious safety of the actual Black Forest where blueberry shrubs and thistle bristled in the light that filtered through the canopy of fir and pine trees. 

Once at a normal walk, she tried to catch her breath and calm her heartbeat.

"This is not what I had in mind for a day off."

Only one little greyling attempted to confront her which she dispatched with ease and an arrogant chuckle

"They can't even get close to me anymore."

A tightening of her shoulders and chest caused her to take a deep breath in an attempt to relax once again, but it was futile. Mayyyybe she should find some wood. Plenty of pines here. She'd grab a bit and just go. The bronze axe bit satisfyingly into the pine. Three strikes later and it toppled. But along with the crashing of the pine came the crashing of other things. Greylings and larger greylings with antlers sticking out of them. Were these things attracted to the sound of her axe?

She took down the greylings with ease. Turning to face the bigger one, she received a faceful of green mist. Instantly her face and front were burning in agony. The pain made her feel as if her skin were melting. She wanted to rip it off her own head it hurt so badly. She had to get away! Had to! She staggered to the side as the greyling muttered some kind of spell and hurled another cloud. The things eyes blazed through the misty green fog. She began running and didn't stop. She ran into more than one tree. She didn't even slow down until she realized she was no longer surrounded by trees. She was in a meadow, north of her original home base. 

Clean, fresh air soothed her lungs and face. Only the quiet sounds of barking deer greeted her. Until the boar decided she was too close. A solid WHUMP right in her midsection drove her into the sodden grassy soil. She weakly flailed her axe but it got away. It whirled for a second run at her. WHUMP. She almost felt like laughing. She couldn't be killed by a PIG. She couldn't! After five or six swings she finally brought the thing down right in her lap. It bled its life away there while she leaned back on the grassy hump. 

Once she had finally gotten her breath back she opened her eyes and looked around. What a wonderful meadow! It was bright and clear and she could see the Black Forest from here. If she built a barn, she could fill it with boxes and store wood here on her way back home. It would give her a safe place to run to. The rest of the boars in the meadow gave her a respectful berth of space as she used the remaining wood she had on hand to make a single wall. Wearily she stuffed food into her mouth and felt strength begin to return to her limbs as she dragged herself up to go get more wood. 

A short trip through the wooded area of the meadow should have been quiet and peaceful. 

….should have been.

She found that it didn't matter where she tried to cut down a tree, within seconds she was surrounded by greyling monstrosities! Growling, snarling, spitting mist and threatening to tear her limb from limb. As she finally got rid of the last one, she realized she was lost. Not lost-lost. Her mental map showed her she was a long ways away from where she had planned to build a storage barn, but she was lost. She didn't know exactly what was around here. She stumbled over several large piles of what looked like shiny rock and discovered to her great pleasure, it was copper! Copper mines within striking distance of the meadow! 

But the greatest was yet to come. For as she entered what appeared to be another meadow, she realized it was man made, not natural. It was cleared ground, with buildings. Big, well built buildings. A whole village! At this point, she could have cried with relief. She didn't have to build more buildings on her own! She just had to fix these and then fill them with boxes! Her exhausting day off was at an end as she chose a building to repair and got it in shape within just a short time. She didn't even bother building a fire. She just dropped to the ground after closing the door.

"Thank you Odin."

Above her, on the roof, the Valkyrie landed silently and cleaned its claws, looking around curiously.

Valheim: Episode 2

Welcome to Dragons & Redshirts where I give you, the listener a tiny look in at my life as I practice my professional writing! Catch all the podcast episodes on your favorite podcatcher or go to Linda Teppler.com to check out all my work. This series is about my adventures playing Valheim, an RPG by Iron Gate studios based in Sweden.  In Episode 2 Grillain encounters more than she was ready for! In a way this episode reflects life. It feels very much like I'm beset on all sides by things I can't do anything about because here in our part of Oregon we're pretty much in a lockdown with no visible end in sight. This can really cause a person to question the reason they even exist. I am really glad I have gaming to fall back into. This early into spring, there's not much I can plant outside, so you wind up in your own head a lot. 

That can be good...or it can be very...very scary…

__

Building a house shouldn't be this hard, should it? The magnificent skeleton of the house stood out proudly on the ground she had cleared. She had struggled to reach the roof beams to lay the thatched panels into their slots. She struggled even harder to make sure they were positioned correctly. If they didn't meet at just the right angle they…

An ominous creaking caught her attention. Seconds later a crack gave her warning she couldn't ignore and she leaped desperately for the slat attached to the one solid structure in the whole place, the fireplace. A rush of exploding wood shards rained down on her as she held her arms over her face. 

"No...no no no! Not again!" 

The wail did nothing to alter her predicament. What was left of the roof trembled and another beam tipped in slow motion and fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Why won't this work?" she yelled. 

She leaned over to pick up a cracked beam.

"It's not strong enough." 

She let it fall to the ground. 

"I'll have to get stronger wood. But I need a better axe."

Kicking the remaining wood into a heap, she tossed a few pieces into the fire to keep it going and walked out into the warm afternoon. She was glad she had built a small longhouse first. She at least had a warm, dry home to build out from. It didn't offer much of a view though. Not the spectacular view she really wanted at least.

The shore with its softly lapping waves called to her and she spent some time wading in the water, looking for stones. In a pile of mud she spied a smooth looking gray rock. She dug it out and a smile touched her lips. Flint. Greedily she looked for more. Concentrating on what was in front of her, she wasn't paying much attention to the sounds around her. The soft "churr" she usually heard from the squat, slow, water creatures residing there had shifted in tone to more of a warning growl. Oblivious she seized another piece of flint and felt sharp teeth sink into her ankle. 

She gave a yelp and automatically the axe she always had to hand descended, crunching into the creature's skull. She picked up the mashed little monstrosity and checked her ankle. A few swishes in the water and it was good as new. The creature, however, was done for. She frowned. It was so weird. An odd product of an odd realm. It had no real "body" except for the space up front where all its guts were squished. It looked for all the world like something a head would sit on. 

"Like a neck," she muttered. 

She sliced open the body cavity and spilled the guts into the water, then stuffed it into her bag next to the flint. Glittering eyes stared at her accusingly from deeper in the water. She lifted her stone axe and they vanished into the depths. She went back to her flint hunt.

To her amusement, nothing but the tail of the creature was edible. To her gratification it was very delicious. Fatty and sweet, it reminded her of the raw salmon her father had sometimes given her with taro root. A little more "meaty" but still really good. After dinner she set her flint on the workbench. Two strikes later and she had a sharper axe than she had ever had with stone. And more secure.  She turned to her testing block and placed a stick of wood on it. The flint axe sliced through it like butter and she grinned. Now I am ready, she thought. It was time. 

Sleep had been slow in coming, but curling up on the floor in front of the fire, she felt reassured. Finally she let herself slip down into the depths of unconsciousness. When she awoke it was late morning. She was glad she had already taken the opportunity to hunt and had filled up her boxes with food, for now she needed it. She stuffed her pack with it and dozens of arrows. Her new flint axe went to her belt, her simple crude bow on her back. This left her free to heft a wooden shield she had made in one hand and the two sets of antlers as a sacrifice in the other. As she walked she wondered about her lust for the mission ahead. Victory was in her veins, as it had been in her father's. She was happy doing this. Much happier than she had ever been as a child, puttering around a house while her father left her behind to go out hunting or scavenging. 

"You are like a wild mare little girl. Always straining to do more than you are fit for!"

When she refused to cook for him, he chuckled at her, a deep, humorous sound. He snatched her up and tickled her until she was too tired to be mean to him anymore. As she grew, he tickled less, and taught more, letting her rein out until it was she who hunted and foraged on her own, taking down a six point deer with a single arrow. Supposedly this Prey was kin to the deer she was used to hunting. If so it would be a breeze to take it down. 

It was a long walk to Eikthyr's altar. When she arrived she thought she saw a familiar figure on one of the surrounding stones, but at a second glance she saw nothing and put it down to a waving branch. She took in the stone altar on a slight rise, at the head of it was a stone inscribed with the same type of runes she had originally seen in her summoning spot. She bravely touched the glowing runes and the words inscribed themselves in her mind.

Hunt His Kin. 

“Well, I've done that."

Lifting herself to her feet she readied herself. Darkness had fallen. She laid the antlers on the altar and took up her bow, nocking an arrow. 

"EIKTHYR! I COME FOR YOU!"

A sound of rattling chains swept across the altar and just past her raced an arc of pale purple energy, coming together at the far end of the site. For a second she felt her blood freeze in her veins. The creature was deer shaped, but that was where the resemblance stopped. 

Mad red eyes stared down from a height of ten feet or more. Chains covered the massively muscled stag and atop its head were dozens and dozens of points on bone antlers dripping with what she swore had to be the blood of its enemies. It reared tall shaking its head as lightning surrounded it. She had just enough time to snatch up her shield before a wave of pulsed lightning came at her, crashing into the shield so hard it drove her back several feet. Sound and lightning had confused her but she stood and grabbed the bow again, sending a series of arrows at her Prey.

The fight became a series of equal hiding behind her shield, and whipping her axe at his legs and head. He would dodge away from her and she moved from shield and axe to bow, letting fly her projectiles at him. Maddened at her ability to hit him from afar he charged again and again, striking her with antler and hoof.

For an age she held her own, but once, just once, she forgot to raise her shield as he struck. His stomp of lightning sent her tumbling painfully to the ground. The darkness wrapped her up and blinded her. She scrambled for the altar, hiding behind it and hoping she had long enough to make sure she had enough arrows to finish the job. Axe in hand she let him come to her snuffling along the length of the altar while she calmed her breathing. The pain of her wounds lanced through her. She desperately wanted to gasp but bit her cheek hard to keep her mind on the sound of Eikthyr's hooves clapping the stone while his growl made sweat bead along her face as well as the hairs on her neck rise. A gigantic flaming red eye slid into view and she slammed her axe right into his teeth. 

With a roar he danced back, fleeing the second swipe of her axe. Dropping the axe to the ground she sacrificed her melee weapon for the bow and with cold surety she pulled the string back. 

His damaged jaw hung loose, but his anger had not been spent. Turning back he crashed forward, blinded by his own blood, crashing into trees. As he spied her he charged once more, wheezing and stumbling. She let loose the arrow and watched it fly, and sink into his throat. With a groan, he finally gave in, his head folding forward onto the ground, unable to lift the giant racks of bone. She watched the eyes lose their intense brilliance and fade as his magical life bled away. 

Raising her arms, she howled out her triumph over her Prey. Taking out a knife she sliced her hand and inscribed deep red lines into her shield followed by a bloody handprint in the center. Her pride knew no bounds as she approached her Prey and reached for it, but it had one more surprise for her. As she took hold of one of the massive bone antlers, Eikthyr's giant body dissolved into a pool of supernatural energy leaving behind only the antlers and a perfectly formed trophy of Eikthyr's head. 

On the runestone, the Valkyrie screamed and Grillain could swear she heard approval in its cry. 

*You have done well Warrior. Take your trophy to the Summoning circle and discover Eikthyr's gift.*

With that, the creature vanished, leaping into the air and becoming as the wind, blown from Grillain's sight. Happily, Grillain packed up and ignoring the lancing pain of her wounds, started off at once at a brisk trot. She reached the Summoning Circle much sooner than she had gotten to Eikthyr's altar. The Valkyrie was already there, ruffling its feathers and dipping its head in eager anticipation. A brief look around proved that there was a hook on each of the stones surrounding the circle. She approached the inscription of the deer head. With an almost gentle reverence, she secured the trophy head to the hook, hoping Odin would be pleased with her. 

No sooner had she stepped back than the scream of the Valkyrie and another voice spoke, becoming one, deep, resonant voice.

"So you were my death. So small for one so powerful. Tell Odin he may have broken my form, but the Wilderness shall never submit!"

The same malevolent purple energy surrounded the trophy and with no warning, slammed into Grillain. The hand of power held her. All her hurts and pains vanished in that moment. She felt not the malevolence, but a peaceful stamina suffuse her mind and body. Then it dropped her on the stone carelessly and the only thing remaining was the glowing red within the trophy's eyes. She wondered if it honored her or mocked her.

*Eikthyr has granted you his power. Use it well Warrior. You will find your next Prey in the depths of the Black Forest. Go, explore, conquer, and survive. The Elder awaits!*

Grillain was too excited to wait for the next day. Once at home, she immediately set one of the hard antlers into one of her longest pieces of wood. Wet sinew secured the antler. As it dried, she prepared to leave again, giddy with her success. More meat, more berries and one more longing look at her half finished shell of a home.

"I will finish you!"

 Then she was off again, trotting along the coast. 

Her first lucky strike came as she spied something that looked similar to flint, but much brighter and shinier in the sandy puddles where the tide water had pulled away. Setting her antler pick to the shiny metal, she raised it and then brought it down firmly. It took many strikes, but eventually the chunk of metal burst apart and she was able to pick up pieces to put into her pack. While studying a chunk, a fluttering squawk brought her attention around. The Valkyrie stood looking at her. Was it...following her?

*I will appear from time to time Warrior. To make sure you have the teaching you require. That metal will require smelting. The smelting will require charcoal. Create a Kiln for charcoal and a smelter to melt the metal down. To create these you will require surtling cores. Search for them in the dark places beneath the earth.*

Before Grillain could look up the Valkyrie had vanished, triggering yet another memory. Her father talking of working metal. It was a difficult task and one which almost none of them undertook. It was one of the rare times her father was reluctant to do something. He preferred wood. he traded for the metal tools and arrow heads he needed. Grillain never used metal for her arrow heads. She used power and accuracy as her guide.

That accuracy helped her now as she pushed away from the coast and headed inland. She moved quickly. Almost TOO quickly. A heavy shaking beneath her feet stopped her as she passed from the meadows into the edge of where her mental map told her the Black Forest began. She'd been looking at the pine trees with their tall, strong trunks. Surely those trees would give her the wood she needed to build her house! Now she scuttled into a stand of fir trees and peeked out. Far through the trees, she saw a gigantic blue figure moving. It was barely a shadow. Was it the Elder? No. Her mental map did not include a marking for the next Prey. And if she hadn't made the sacrifice, would it appear on it's own? She didn't think so. This was just another monster. One she wasn't ready to take on.  A low rumbling growl echoed through the quiet forest, reinforcing her healthy avoidance strategy. She turned away and moved further into the Black Forest along another path. 

She smelled moss and the clean scent of sprinklings of pine needles from somewhere. The heavy earthy smell of a healthy forest. The twittering of birds. She was so relaxed she almost didn't realize she had gotten to the pine trees, until she looked up and realized the magnificent tree before her was almost nothing but a trunk, rising toward the sky, reaching for the light with everything it could pour into its woody being. She patted it fondlly.

"You will help me make a great house!"

She set the edge of her flint axe to the pine tree. For something so tall, so strong, her axe bit into it readily. in only a short amount of time, the pine was tumbling from the heights to land with a crash on the forest floor. A few strikes and logs were ready to split. Stretching her muscles, she prepared to begin to chop again and that was when she heard the noises that were not normal forest sounds.

Chittering. Hissing. Growling. Rattling. ….Rattling? Where would…

Bony monstrosities rose up in front of her as if they had appeared from the ether. One after another, they moved slow, but they had weapons. Bows?  Skeletons!

Grillain brought her shield up just in time to deflect the first arrow. She waded in behind the shield. It took at least three strikes before the skeletons fell to pieces, but more were coming. And behind them came the creatures that had been following her from the beginning. Angry little grey creatures that grunted and spit. A whole pack of them had gained enough bravery to attack her here, in a place so unfamiliar to her. Suddenly, Grillain was on the defensive, 

"This was a mistake."

She couldn't face them all. A skeleton got in a hit that brought her to her knees. She tried to turn and run, tripping over shrubs and the pine log she'd been chopping. She couldn't get to her feet! She couldn't run fast enough! She swung helplessly around her. As she looked up they swarmed over her, blocking her view of the fast advancing afternoon sun and even the World Tree. 

More pain and then darkness.

A breath of fresh air. Hard stone beneath her. Her naked parts were again covered with little. Was she dead? Could she die? Confusion had invaded her mind. Where had she gone? The eyes of the Eikthyr trophy glared down at her. The Summoning Circle. She hadn't even activated Eikthyrs power, she'd been too focused. She patted herself as she sat up. No wounds, but she felt weak. 

Above the Eikthyr trophy the Valkyrie sat waiting patiently for her to notice it. She got to her feet.

"What...happened?"

*Each time you are defeated, you will re-appear in your summoning place. If you wish you were home, make yourself a bed and bind yourself to it. When you are struck down you will lose some of what you were. It is inevitable. You will also have to retrieve anything you carried. Your day is almost over Warrior. If you are defeated too many times there will be nothing left of you to summon.*

Sighing in chagrin, Grillain began her ground eating trot. If she could be put down by such a weak little enemy like skeletons, then what was she doing here? how could she hope to destroy all the Forsaken? Dispirited, her thoughts trended toward a downward spiral. Death was nothing for a Viking. She had never been afraid of it. There had been some in her village who were afraid of death. The old woman who made pots. She was terrified that there was actually nothing after death. Grillain thought that would be peaceful, though her destiny had involved a bit more responsibility. Why had Odin chosen her? Her life had been ordinary, if a bit lonely. She had gotten used to being alone, though. It didn't bother her as it did when she was a child.

Her thoughts churned. The appearance of the skeletons. Tales told her that skeletons only occurred where death was. Was the appearance of the skeletons proof she would find that place or places? Approaching the place of her defeat, she slowed and went as stealthily as she dared. The skeletons and angry greylings had abandoned her. It was the work of just a moment to grab her shield, good flint axe, and bag containing arrows, bow, torches, food, and metals. The chunks of metal. She didn't want to lose them. Nor the wood she had managed to pick up. Anxiously she retraced her steps to an abandoned house closer to the coast and stored her valuables there. 

Upon her next return she saw the skeletons moving around what looked like a pile of large rocks. Taking out her bow she began a battle that was less a battle and more target practice. She preferred killing things from afar, though it did not fire her blood as the axe and shield did.

The dark space on one end of the pile of rocks proved to be an entrance. It was a narrow, pitchy place. Definitely an unmarked barrow. Who had been buried here, in such a place? One of the previous inhabitants? Perhaps one of the skeletons. She lit a torch and carried her axe in the other hand. There was a quiet solitude as she traversed the flat stones leading downward. The quiet both comforted and disturbed her. She strained to hear more sounds as the darkness enveloped her. She was aware of coming to a fourier with doors. She was concentrating so hard on the sounds that when a skeleton did appear it took her by surprise, She yelled and hit it so hard that one hit sent the spiritual conglomeration slamming into the wall, scattering its bones to the four corners of the room. She breathed a sigh of relief. They weren't very dangerous, just intimidating with their chattering and clattering. She gathered up the bones. These would work very well with some deer hide to make a good cape for herself. No doubt there would be other uses for them too. In picking up the bones she also discovered tiny yellow mushrooms. These would be very good to eat along with the berries and meat! A few of them eaten raw on the spot tasted delicious and chased away the last remnants of the weakness of defeat. 

She hefted her axe and torch again, approaching the doors. The first room contained nothing but dust. The second, a chest with invaluable arrows. There were also some dusty coins and glittering pieces of amber on the floor, but she left those behind. What use were treasures she couldn't spend? She could always return for them if she discovered a use. Her purpose here was not to decorate herself, it was to destroy the evil infesting Valheim. 

As she reached for the last door she stopped. Yes. That was still her purpose. Wasn't it? Odin had charged her with making Valheim safe. She had all eternity if necessary to do it. The last room was a long way down a sloping stone hall. The sounds of rock shifting in the earth around her startled her and she broke out in a slight sweat. being defeated by a cave-in would be humiliating. Other sounds behind the door she came to were now familiar sounds. Rattling. So there were skeletons behind the door. Gripping her axe and torch tightly, she flung open the barrier. She felt vindicated with every skeleton she obliterated.

It was a close fight. There were half a dozen skeletons. It was sheer luck that she discovered another weapon. Her torch. She only meant to push a few of them back with its light, but the skeleton didn't seem afraid of the torch. Instead it walked right into her swing and it blazed up, catching fire. An unearthly scream echoed in the chamber as it ran blindly, setting yet other skeletons on fire. Yet she had no time to celebrate as a breathy moaning enveloped her. Thoughts of rage, of lonely despair invaded Grillain's mind. There was no point to life. There was no point to anything. She should just—  That was as far as the alien thought got when Grillain's weapon swept in. The desperate, desolate thoughts vanished as the ghost was destroyed.

As the quiet settled, Grillain heard her own feet scraping the dirt on the floor as she turned around and around again, making sure there were no more enemies to face. Then she noticed the glow. Tiny cube shaped objects were set on stands around the room. There was no doubt that these were the surtling cores that the Valkyrie had spoken of. They were eerily beautiful. The orange and red colors licking the inner surfaces of the cube intrigued her. The outer black edging was a material she was not familiar with. It was smooth and cool while the rest of the core felt warm to the touch. Did the cubes hold fire? As she inspected the one in her hands a skeleton rattled its way up behind her and she absently whacked it while still looking at the core.

Gathering up as much as she could possibly hold, which was every core and almost every bone and mushroom in all the hallways she made her way back out of the barrow. 

"Sleep well, you who are dead. Do not come back to life for I shall destroy you again."

She was tired as she exited the barrow and began making her way home through the dark that had fallen. It had been a day of firsts. Her first good axe, her first Prey, her first mine, her first special tree. The many monsters she had never seen before,  and now a new power source which would allow her to smelt metal for the first time. She wondered if she could really consider being defeated a first. She'd died before. She decided that she would consider it her first death here in this new realm. 

What firsts would fall into her hands the next time she ventured out?

 —

If you'd like to see Valheim in action, check out the Twitch link on my website every Friday at 10:30 a.m. pacific time! 

Valheim: Episode 1

Episode 1 or How I Became A Stoner

"Am I dead?"

Grillain's first thoughts were not coherent. She was flying. Or rather she was sitting on something that flew. Warm musky feathers tickled her legs. 

*You have been saved from purgatory warrior. Odin has decreed you be given the chance to prove yourself.*

Oh yes, the battle. The shining spear, buried in her chest. Then nothing. Was this a second chance?

*Not in the home you remember. Odin has directed I take you to another realm. You will face dangerous creatures you are not familiar with there. In order to gain Odin's regard, you must slay the Forsaken and drive their creatures from the face of Valheim, making it safe once more for Odin's Chosen.*

Grillain felt strange. This creature's physical voice was the cry of a hawk or a crow, but its thoughts were so much sweeter to her, almost musical. Was it magic? Was not the practice of magic forbidden by her father? Only the Shaman could conduct magical rituals. 

*Do you not recognize the messenger of Odin? Am I not the same Valkyrie that gathered you from the claws of death to cradle your soul and protect it? I who choose who lives and who dies, have you forgotten me so soon, Grillain?*

No! No she had not forgotten. She was just confused. She concentrated on her gratitude. The harsh cries calmed. Where were they? How long had they traveled?

*Look yon below you. There is your new home.*

And below, spread beyond the dark wings of the Valkyrie lay mist shrouded forests. It was familiar, very much like her home. When she looked upward it was hard to concentrate. The clouds seemed to shroud her eyesight in confusion. She dragged her view to the ground which approached rapidly now. Yet, she was not afraid. Even as the ground rushed to meet them. 

Once more she awoke. Her thoughts now were not confused, or her awareness fuzzy. She felt hard stone beneath her, the cool of morning air around her. She lifted herself from the ground. In front of her, perched on a cracked stone inscribed with runic writing was the Valkyrie. It spread its wings to gain her attention. It's appearance shifted, moving between woman and crow with no rhyme or reason. Fearlessly Grillain stood before it. 

*Your first task to prove yourself is to slay the Forsaken Eikthyr. Read this stone to find the location of your first Prey.*

The Valkyries nails scraped the greenery covering the runes. Then it was lifting itself back into the sky, blending with the light. 

*Fight and survive warrior!*

As the Valkyrie vanished, Grillain realized the sky held another vision. The branch of a tree so big it could only be the World Tree. It's solid surface was sprinkled with all kinds of glittering lines and tufts of greenery. She felt awed in its presence. Odin had looked upon her with favor, granting her a great task. But who were these Forsaken? 

The dawn rays warmed her face as Grillain knelt next to the rock and tugged the greenery away. As her fingers found the runes, they glowed an eerie red. She snatched her fingers away and stared at them, but the light did not cling to them, so she put her hand back to the rock. In her head, a mental map drew itself. Her eyes widened in surprise. She instinctively knew where to find this first monstrous beast. A stag with antlers of bone, flaming eyes and a thunderclap for an attack. The visual in her mind of this prey was intimidating, but with the right weapon…

A stiff breeze reminded Grillain she was clad in little but the thin skins that covered her most naked of parts. First, she would have to survive. And she knew how to do that. Fire. Shelter. Food.  She gathered wood and stone swiftly, finding many loose branches. She was frustrated at not finding the stones she wanted and forayed further and further from the summoning circle. Until she had a home, she could not stray far from this place. It was all she knew.

A patch of open ground that barely justified itself as a meadow provided her first opportunity to build something that would give her shelter. She laid down the wood and created a rough hut. Of sorts. The roof did not meet. There was no chimney. Her stomach growled and soft cramps in her gut drove her out of the meager shelter to find something to eat. 

The first handful of red berries was sweet and delicious. She stuffed herself on them until she could eat no more. Then she continued to search for stones. For she could make no campfire without enough rocks to make at least a ring for the wood! As the afternoon waned, her search became a bit desperate. She just couldn't see them and she needed to make an axe or she could not cut trees to get enough wood for a proper home. No stones for a fire meant she could not eat meat without getting sick. That is if she could even kill something. As fiercely strong as she was she doubted she could pit her bare hands against a boar! And she heard them out there in the wilderness, squealing. 

The darkness fell and she continued her search, up against a hillside now. Her hands finally falling upon a small pile of flat stones. Enough for a fire at the very least. She perhaps could stretch this to an axe. 

The chill of the night assaulted her, making her skin and bones ache as she made her way back to her chosen spot, but what she found a short ways from the rocky hillside made her stop thinking about the cold. In the dark she crashed against a structure. She knew it was not a tree because the planks were flat and there was a doorway. In the cold, hungry, and focused, she did not question how it got there. It would need repair. She sat inside, stuffing herself on more berries and then carefully sliding a sturdy flat stone with an edge into a forked piece of wood, she tied it tightly together with vines until she was sure it wouldn't fall apart. 

The axe was primitive but who would be there to see her use it? As she leaned back to take her first swing at a tree, a clear memory of her father invaded her mind. Tall, sturdy, with long dusty hair always flying everywhere. A giant of a man teaching a tiny little girl how to cut down a tree. 

"Do not fear the axe Grillain. Vikings fear nothing. Make your strikes strong and sure. Make each one better than the previous one. This will be your task your whole life. To be a better axe wielder every time you pick one up."

He cared for the child that may or may not have been his. He showed her everything. From how to find food to how to shield bash an enemy before crushing their skull. As each axe stroke fell, Grillain increasingly dwelled upon the man she would certainly never see again. You might have thought it was raining by the time the tree fell as grateful tears washed her face clean. Grillain watched with satisfaction as the tree came down and down,  and a moan of exasperation left her lips as the tree caught in the giant fork of another tree, lifting its end away from her grasp. It was hung up and she could not reach it. 

Doggedly she dragged herself to the tree that held onto her wood and set the edge of her axe to it. If she could not reach the original tree, she'd make it all come down! A noise in the forest gave her pause. Not a bird, not the squeal of a boar or the bark of deer. It was a threatening growl. Something she surely did not wish to court. Ferociously, she began to swing.

It took twice as long to make this tree come down and as it did, she dodged its fall by mere inches. It ripped and tore its way through the heights, slamming into another tree, and that tree into another, and that tree into yet another. Grillain set her hands to her face as she thought the whole forest itself might come down around her ears! Instead she wound up with piles and piles of useful wood which she felt was only justice. The entire night had passed and she had endured the growls of those unidentified monsters somewhere near her. 

She became aware that she did not feel tired. It was only when she got hungry that she felt weary and needed rest. Was this what death was? Here in one of the other realms, she was different somehow. As she got back into her almost good shelter she knew her axe was at its limit of usefulness. She would have to sharpen it to use it again or make another. She also had no fire. Dawn had come again and she realized she had survived one whole day in this new place. 

There was no time to celebrate however. She set the stones in a circle in a pocket she had designed and lit the fire. She was gratified when the fire blazed up in happy comfort. Busily she set about repairing the walls after creating a rude workbench from her stock of wood. In her remaining time she wedged the axe on the workbench and chipped at the edge to sharpen it. Creating a door wasn't too hard and now she truly had safety. Solid walls around her reinforced the idea of safety. Fire, Shelter, Food. She had all three. Today would mean more searching, more chopping. Her mental map told her she had a long way to walk before she reached her first Prey. Today she would concentrate on fixing this shelter to become more permanent. She couldn't have just shelter, she had to have a home. 

Over the next hours, she collected many pieces of wood, berries, and mushrooms. She grinned, knowing that her father used these mushrooms for more than just food. Fermented, they became a powerful vision inducer. Her father did enjoy visions, though she herself had never tried them. She had no idea how it felt. She laid them carefully in a box she had created. Raw, they were perfectly normal mushrooms. Late in the day she caught her first meat. An old boar had been too slow to get out of the way and she swiftly put it out of its misery. She hung the meat over the fire with satisfaction. 

As the meat sizzled, she noticed the fire acting strangely. It would sputter and then seem to go out. Her heart fell as she saw this behavior. There was plenty of fuel and it wasn't raining. The fire was choking. Outside she noticed there were many trees all around the house. She cut down a few of them, hoping to open up the canopy. As each fell, she prayed it would not hit the ragged little shelter. Nothing worked. In exasperation, she tore out a part of the wall on the other side of the house where the sky was clearer and created a mini fireplace on that side. Laboriously she carried each piece of the fire over, using more of her precious stash of rocks which now dwindled to just 2. For just long enough, the fire blazed to cook two pieces of meat. She sighed with relief, but the fire decided that enough was enough and she was left with her disappointment and a cooling hearth for company. 

The meat was good, if a touch tough and chewy. Old, crippled boar was not the easiest to eat, but it was food. With a determined sigh and a now full stomach, she cast herself once more into the wilds. Her stone axe was sharp, her eye keen. A little stream led her to a sloping rocky hill where she discovered more old, unused buildings. Where had the people gone? 

Exiting the tree line laid out a picturesque moment that stole the very breath from her body. A long field of bumpy grass and a few shrubs splayed down to a shore near a vast body of water. The sun was sparkling off the water, throwing orange light across the dewy grass. Up above in the sky the branches of the World Tree were a glorious counterpoint to the simple pleasure of looking upon the calm, peaceful scene. 

The quintessential Viking homeland. The pale land leading to the glorious ocean. Forests all around provided all the wood you could ever need and bulged with animals to hunt for meat, for skin, for antler and bone. A true base from which to strike out. To make a mighty weapon to hunt her first Prey. Her father would look down from Valhalla and cheer her accomplishments. Odin himself would be appeased as she conquered this land. If only she could find enough stone...

With a quick, confident step, she strode out across the field to claim her patch of land. Her home.