POV: Thyra, the Vanir tracker.
Date: Þórri 18th, 598 AD. (Alt: 30th January, 599 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
A simple day has been passing by, below the notice of her long-term memory. The setting of her patrolling grounds blends in with the work she has been doing for the past month.
It was mellow, a sombrous choir of rustling trees and the bellowing of swaying grass. Few birds chirped and bush-crickets grated upon their hoarse hind legs. The few times that were of note interest either stopped in response to her Vanir caretakers or were false alarms.
From yesterday's strategic meeting, they came to understand better of Heath's own personal convictions and beliefs. His honest explanation of future technologies that he was willing to share and part with, providing something no other allies had been capable of in the past: Tangible hope. For many of the previous works, too many gave promises too grand to keep, and costs too high for equal partnership to be maintained. IE. Hrimthur Thamursson, who had asked their enemy's price for Ásgarðr's walls to be Freyja, Máni (the Norse moon personified) and Sól (the Norse sun personified.)[1]
But Heath's only promises were those already made and examples given with practicality or great possibility, and prices many would dub as bargains or too cheap for the quality of craftsmanship achieved.
Thyra's instincts tell her that he appears trustworthy and able to maintain this selfless resolve many times over. Yet her objective consciousness tells her that their deals are leading them deeper into an impossible chasm they could never escape from. 'Yet I know that none wish to leave.' She internally maffled, finding that the great scientist God does not follow any logic she would find rational. She continued her path, reaching the emptied, ransacked village and stopping there as a checkpoint for defensive positioning.
With only 15 corpses left and 98 mennskr rescued, all had been taken by Heath home, telling that this price was more than enough for the technology provided. Thyra crawled and bowed over every position imaginable in case of hidden enemies or survivors, but found none.
Reaching the 5th house and leaning towards pushing the door in, she earns a signal, swaying her hair in a codified configuration that requires her return to the throne room of the Nature Gods. A quick arrow transport there, and she is in face with her guardian, King Tiwaz. She bows, stating that there have been no new findings and that Heath has made a meticulous job through and around the massacre site. The thorned king nods, allowing her to stand and pushing his crown deeper onto his rising brows in determination.
"Heath, says it, is for, you." He commands in tone, lastly bringing out a suit of runic armour of intricate pattern and of the '*Dyḗusium' material upon its exterior with internal 'celestial bronze' supports for magic that he has made for the renovation of all other armours.[2]
A material strong enough to contend with beings close to the strength of Þórr, with efficiency to surpass. She saw how it was designed, almost ordained to be fitted upon her with its intricacy and impeccability. Never doubting her betters, she puts on the armour in the same chamber in a show of trust, it automatically adjusting for any inaccuracies in measurements. It fitted beautifully upon her, an armour that would surpass the leather she had worn previously. It was also more comfortable, its enchantments in clear play.
She tests it by taking a greave and a backplate of her open vambrace, shooting it with an enhanced blunt arrow that would punch inwards through thickened wrought iron and souls alike. It bounced off, no marks or scratches even made against its paint.
Other beings within the chamber had their own shots against the armour, the Alcis twins, centuries-old jǫtnar who used their powers that harnessed the symbolism of the elks and moose shapeshifted to their strongest form, ramming themselves into the armor against a stone post many times their width, they smashed through, collapsing it down and burying the parts of the set under the rubble. After Mother Jǫrð collected and repaired it back to its original condition, they picked up the armour, finding. . . Nothing, no damage.
The next to test it was Gerðr, the bride of Yngvi (Freyr.) Her powers were more subtle, with her focus as an Ásynja Goddess of Beauty, she used her influence over the material minds of those who had seen her enchanting visage as additional sources of replicated power.
From the time the first myths about her were posited, she had gained partial control over the runes that were indented, forcefully carved, by both her husband and Skírnir. She uses her own intent to externalise the thurs upon her two breasts, back and stomach in specific order, which had symbolised lewdness, frenzy, and unbearable desire. The curses now auto-launching like fanatic guard dogs upon a hater of their favourite idol, they crashed into it with a strength several times greater than her own.
These ghostly apparitions slowly dissipated after expending their own internal reserves, crunching an attack just before mistifying in the air and causing it to be fired upwards into the air from the force, then booming down into the stony ground, cracking it below.
Second testing showed it took only a chip of paint, which then quickly healed itself. "It appears the vanitate had no power." Tuisco's more cynical left head snivelingly comments from its inflected accent that has been around since the 2nd Millennium BC of Germania, the more pragmatic right head that shared its body with its mood-killer of a twin now chastising him for ruining the mood. From behind their heads and hidden under their enlarged pelt, they each grasp one part of a giant club that is lifted over their now-revealed skinny, yet ripped body.[3]
"We are only doing this once." Tuisco's right head chides, helping to hold up his 2 arms from his side of his body in an atomic grip. leading the left to nod and to do the same. ""*Fastinōjanan!"" They cast an accelerating magic from unknown Proto-Germanic chants.
Turning invisible now from the speed, they rotate their body in the air and focus their swivelling strike in full isolation to the connected armour pieces with a fury unmatched. The club's unknown material clambered, cratering the intended target and forcing it into the earth by a distance far enough to then be affected by the soil's instability, now collapsing it under 100s of Long tons of crust. The pressure and heat of it were enough to cook, flatten and mulch a chicken in under a few minutes to an oven paste simultaneously. "*Γrindanan!""
Their feet trample everything below the next blink after, in a manner best comparable to Soru from One Piece, compacting it to stone, then to its own pseudo-bedrock. It was now pressurised thousands of times greater than just a moment prior.
Tuisco's chant was one of incredible delicacy, keeping the ground the same height by supplying his own magic to create extra dirt per jump to not interrupt his technique. After tiring himself, the conjuration is refluxed, all of the temporary excess returning to the aether, making the greave and open vambrace's backplate rise through the earth to then be shone under the light of their hall. Showing that the third round of testing was also a success, only large swathes of paint being damaged that this time is healed a bit slower, but is successful again.
Both heads use all of their hands to stroke each other's goatee beards in contemplation, never seeing such a powerful material in their 3 millennia of existence. They nod, accepting its compromise and leading the final Gods' tests to a conclusion.
The once Lithuanian Pantheon's and now Vanir-allied Beyla (Bubilas) and Austheia charge up next, using their collective power over small life forms, of plants, insects (mostly bees) and Austheia's powers of poisonous, decaying destruction upon the material as inflected curses for force multipliers.
It was quick and loud, yet led to silence. Their androgynous, wooden facial features that were in place above one whose body was a swarming mass of insects and another as a solidified green with flowering protrusions were plastered with surprise from their absent eye sockets in a show that even the powers of the combined Gods of creation and destruction could not affect the material. They left it be now, giving deference for its incredible properties to the final testing dual-headed God, Mannr, son of Tuisco.
The two heads of this younger God were more individualistic to each other, the calmer, more diplomatic head on the right is 'ᛗᚨᚾᚢ (*Manu,)' while the left, more brash one is 'ᛃᛖᛗᛟ (*Yemo.)' Each have their own part, the body only has 2 arms compared to their father's 4, but. . .[4]
Each arm is quintuple the thickness of their father's dualing on each side, bulging with incredible muscle and tendons fully tightened. They call upon their once-human (who ascended in a mountain) golem guardian 'ᛏᚱᛁᛏᛟ (*Trito,)' where all attack in unison with the armour in place by being kept up under a tripartitioning grouping. Each attack was capable of destroying a small hill range on its own, it was a surprise that these Vanir were ever at risk if not for Þórr and Óðinn's existence.
The air itself had ionised into blue and green plasma from the force of the attacks, the heat a threat to the skin of the Vanir-allied Gods. Once it became unbearable, they stopped. The air kept its heat for a while after, showing the potency, and FINALLY it had caused something!
There were small shavings from the edges of the plating. Which were then automatically repaired and their divine attributes succeedingly reabsorbing existent power from being attacked by a Deity. The trio that had attacked together looked defeated, giving an OK hand sign in showing that it was his best he could do. Thyra puts the armour back on, now understanding its veracious strength and that it was something that would be impossible to pay off. 'Yet I know he would not ask of me, even with our less-than-good first meeting.'
She breathed out gently, bowing down to King Tiwaz again before leaving the hall and covering her bases to scout every scoured building clean. The armour felt similarly to a second skin, even allowing senses of touch through without feeling pain on its panelling.
In case any outsiders may see the similarly hyper-modern armour upon her form, she hides it underneath multiple layers of pelts she had hunted and tanned herself, creating a long brown cape that worked aesthetically with her dark chestnut hair. Lastly, to keep it held upon her armour, she sets a lock of sinew that is then strung as a shoulder-hoist, which made it so even if she was running, it would be kept still. Upon the pre-built tool belt, there were some additional tools such as self-generating fire-starters, chemical insecticides, a nigh-unbreakable wire saw and an infinite water purifier straw.
"Even I am not that paranoid." Thyra reflects jokily with self-awareness. Knowing it was for any and all situations. She uses the wire saw by zig-zagging the sharp edge against a log, its sharp edge quickly cutting through the oak in Model minutes.
Lastly, by fraying it with her magically formed arrow, the inside of the wood was mixed and arranged with leather scraps. She then directs the fire-starter into the more flammable resinous extracts, igniting it with an incredibly vibrant white flame near-instantaneously. "Oh, I like this~. . ." Thyra places it upon the belt again for later. The night is now passing calmly without the usual hassle of rubbing the inside of the cut log with a traditional bow-stick tool. Tying it all up with leftover fibrous strings, she sat upon the forest floor, slowly drifting to sleep.
*Rustling* "*Hᵉm?*What?" Thyra snaps to position with unnatural grace, curving out her chargable bow with a magic arrow already forming, nocked and set to be fired. She uses her heightened senses to spot the general location of this commotion.
She climbs up a taller tree using her new sabatons as the climbing gear, jamming them in like climbing axes. She lurches forward upon a branch, soon finding that it was a group of pilgrims who had come from the north of the mountain range. They were passing by slowly, watching their step in not to be caught during the dead of night. She undraws, dissipating the arrow spell and instead trailing behind them by soundlessly bounding between trees. She heard some of their conversations within the carriage, they were seeking asylum.
"Chalcedonians, this far beyond the Byzantium?" She talked to herself, wondering how Christians had come this far beyond their borders. She knew of them from talks by the Vanir Pantheon's territories being encroached by the southern God 𐤉𐤄𐤅𐤄 (Yahweh) and their Abrahamic sects.
"They are at risk from the vittra seeing their God here as a being to drive out, which could sour relations. I see no other way." She chose an option that she rarely ever chose if not for the armour she wore: To meet with strangers without weapons ready. She jumped down from the tree, hailing the travellers who sought refuge. "I am Thyra, Guardian of these woods. I hear you seek asylum?" She invokes the magic of her armour to glow through her leather, showing she was serious in her title.
". . . Yes! We, free people, hope to find the nearest Settlement by the Noviomagus, but we have no boat to pass the sea." The leader of their caravan spoke honestly, seeing that the stranger had no weapon, yet showing confidence in presenting themselves fully.
"Then may I suggest something you may never have experienced before?" Thyra sees their heads roll slightly in confusion, but with no answer, she continued. "I have a power known as gate magic. Allowing me to travel to any location I may know." She explained, even giving an example by opening two gates in front of them and walking through and to the other side. And luckily this was not the 9th century or later, for this would have been seen as evil Satanic witchcraft, but instead, they saw it as a Wiccan's miracle.
"I know the general location of your base by the edge of the Ulpia Noviomagus. To prove I am truthful, how about I enter there, bring an item only available from that location and bring it back to show you?" Thyra gave a responsible answer in the hopes of presenting what is real.
"Will you truly do that for us?" One of the young friar boys who is learning the ropes asks in the background, hopeful from the few scavengable resources through their trek. "Of course, any specific items you would wish for me to bring to show honesty?" She sees them think, the elder now choosing an Inscriptorum Navicarum for necessary road travel once arriving there. "How much would this cost in the settlement?" She takes out her small rucksack behind her belt, juggling to get Norse coinage out, but is stopped by an urgent voice.
"Let us pay, fair lady. We wish to only get what can be honoured by us." Their driver now enters the main storage of the carriage, lastly bringing out 5 Follides and 10 Nummi, the cost for one new book of travels. "We will wait for you this side of the gate." He nods, passing the money.
"Then you will see me in a moment." Thyra walks in, seeing the settlement as it was, large and made of stone housing and pavement, she walks through and finds a paper store, finally buying one of the more aged books for 4 Follides and 6 Nummi. She returns just as quickly, giving the spare change to the old passer. "*!*This is genuine, and I see previous workings of people who had bought and returned the book." He checks all valid information involving it, and from his own memory, seeing it was fairly accurate. "What you say is true."
"Do you wish for me to wait on the other side, or help you bring your luggage through?" Thyra asks, hoping to be helpful to these mortals who were rather kind to her. "That would be asking too much. Thank you, but we must be strong." The elder returns to his driver's seat.
"We will follow you." He grabs the reins, letting all of the asylum seekers sit within. She walks through, and they follow the same path, reaching their destination in days rather than the months expected. From within their robes and of their hats like the Lappvattnet artifact, they bow in a show of gratitude to Thyra, a total stranger who gave them a life-saving process to reach civilisation. "How may we repay you?" The driver asks, now off the seat and hoping to make it even.
"Give good word that if there are more who wish to travel through the woods beyond the northern sea, that they should pass near the location you were at (Vąxjǫ forest.) For me to help." She saw them nod in full agreement, also trying to give her their money, but she refused.
"I hope all of you have a blessed day." She says a more neutral response that could work with any religion, helping them calm down and leaving them with a happier mood by the end of it. She leaves through the same gate, grateful that it was a successful, painless travel. She finishes up the campfire again by covering it with a wet soaking by first light, with her now ready to return to the Vanaheimr common grounds, where the many families that are under their protection stay for peaceful lives. Like serfs to a benevolent lord.
She greets many along the way, finding that there had been many talks about a concept known as 'technology,' which is to be introduced to them soon by an outsider. 'Too much, great scientist God.' She kept with the honourable naming scheme, but it is overkill.
Either way, it was another nice, but this time, memorable day. Even getting to help manage 10 sent over Auto golems and 1 Bus golem. (a separate pool from the Cavern's.)
[1] Name used from God of War, as the original myths had them unnamed.
[2] ᛉ (Protection / Shield / Elk,) ᛇ (Yggdrasil / Yew Tree / Dream Rune,) ᚱ (Horse / Ride / Journey / Thor Rune,) ᛟ (Heritage / Estate Rune,) ᚾ (Need / Hardship Rune,) ᛗ (Man / Human / Self Rune,) ᚠ (Cattle / Livestock / Wealth Rune,) ᛖ (Horse / Twin Forces Rune,) and ᚨ (Odin / Inspiration / Wisdom Rune.)
[3] Based on a scene with multiple Vanir Gods, with one appearing double headed, aged grey and with the left having a flush goatee and the right having a more bushy version. Named after the Tacitus' accounts of the Germanic God Tuisto but with proper etymological roots.
[4] Names are based on the Proto-Indo-European reconstructed myth of *Manu, *Yemo and *Trito.