The realm of Midgard, a huge plot of vast field and tundra, all bordered by a wall that separated Midgard from the Utgard, beyond the wall one could occasionally see the huge serpent jörmungander from beyond the wall, his huge scaled head scraping the clouds.
Within Midgard stood yggdrasil, a huge tree that stood stretching into unseen heights and was said to be the gaits to the nine primordial realms of the world tree.
On this day there was loss, and the ravens did fly. On this day a man named Bjorn lost his family. Bjorn did not know why Odin had taken them, his wife, his son, all died as an illness preyed on their sensitivities.
Bjorn stood at the door of his domicile, sharpening a spear that for all the fifty seven years he had lived there, had only ever been used as decor, but now?
Now it would be used to spear the heart of the highest god.
In Midgard neighbors were uncommon.
The nearest person to you was a mile away, and they more than likely didn't like you, but Bjorn had a neighbor that he did like, Holder was three trees away and the kindest bard one could possibly meet in a drunken tavern fight, a new and common experience for Bjorn.
When a small village or town had a harsh harvest a goat would die as a sacrifice to the gods, but when the whole of Midgard went into a drought, they took people as their payment, in this case the family of Bjorn.
Bjorn was a big man, physically burly and tall. The man was solidly built like a brick wall, a wall that was currently standing in front of his house, sharpening spear heads.
Holder approaches.
"Ho Bjorn Daggson, what ails you?" He said.
"The gods have my wife and brood. I shall break even."
Holder made a sympathetic look, then gave a crooked grin.
"If in your grieving times you must do what you must, don't regret it and you may still yet find yourself in Odin's hall of Valhalla." Said the bard.
"I think I've all together lost that gleam in my eye, those thoughts remain in my wartorn past." Bjorn sounded, a deep melodic tone that didn't sound like the voice of a man who was accustomed to sorrow. In truth Bjorn was regarded by those who knew him as a silly and emotional man, physically threatening but soft and delightful to be around, that man had all but died since, in his stead stood a man covered in regret, a man who had red markings about his eyes from tears long since shed.
" Bjorn I do wonder what you may think if you were to fail?"
When Bjorn heard this he was set back for a moment.
" You think I would fail? How about this?- when I get Odin's head, I'll send it to you!"
" No need friend… I just hope you will come to your senses. Odin takes many, it's been many years since my father passed."
" This is not the same! Your father was battle-slain… I fear there is no sweet hall for my loved ones. And I will avenge them. Fuck Valhalla. I'd much rather fade in cold helheim where my kin lay." Argued Bjorn.
"Aye, I hear you… and you have my regards. I did not mean to disrespect your word. But I voice this, your name wasn't mentioned in the tales of future Ragnarok, what say you to this?" Asked Holder.
"Enough, I've had enough. Now we head to the tavern… to see me off."
—The two men walked forth to a mead hall a few miles away.---
The room they did enter smelled of stale beer and cooked fish. Familiar characters rested around the room, on all of the chairs and stools, most regarded Bjorn with looks of caution and the smallest thread of optimism.
In the corner sat a man in a red cape, greasy red hair curling out of the left side of his hood.
Bjorn sat down, a stout man at the bar slid him a thing of tankered ale.
Holder began to play some music on a lute over in the corner.
Off of the side of Bjorn's tankered crawled a lowly house spider, it bit him and he slapped it off.
The cloaked man sat down next to Bjorn and un-cloaked.
The man was shorter than Bjorn, he was short and built slightly stout, wide but average with thick scarred arms that crossed in front of him.
The man had enchantingly green eyes and curly red hair that was cut down short, like buzz short, save a short sharp braid down the back of his head and a large tuft of spikey red hair that fell down the left side of his face accompanied by space lamb chop side burns, his lips were lined with loose leather stitches.
"Real good weather for a hike!" Marked the strangers.
"You need not tell me, stranger."
"Aye? Going anywhere special?" Asked the stranger, who seemed to be thinking very seriously about something
"I plan to go hiking real soon… real far away."
"A big guy like you, no doubt. Pray the gods protect you." Grinned the man.
"I need nothing from those lots!"
This made the man grin further
"Y'know I was thinking of taking a hike soon. Maybe we'll see each other again." Bjorn eyed the man as he spoke and his eyes were drawn to his arms, they were a web of knots and runework but attention was drawn to three names that lined his arm.
Norm.
Fen.
And Hel.
A surprisingly large man tapped the stranger by the shoulder and jestured for him to follow. The two vanished into the table and Bjorn was met by Holder.
"Damn, tough crowd." Holder sighed.
"Did you see him?" Bjorn asked.