After Ragnarok

[LucarioTheKing]

Soon, very Soon is later tonight or tomorrow, and then shall there be Update.

 

[clanky4]

Woah you changed your avatar. I was not prepared for that.

 

[LucarioTheKing]

Woah you changed your avatar. I was not prepared for that.

Dragons are great, this one is decent enough, and I was getting sick of Ragnar's Ugly mug.

 

[clanky4]

They also have a great sound track.

 

[LucarioTheKing]

Chapter 10: Wherein the Great Battle happens.​

The men and women of Nidaros had prepared on the behalf of their King for many moons, and their new king had been quite adamant in his desires, an army of Axeman that would more than double the Norse fighters. Now, they Vi-Kings had no idea what this army would be used for, whispers of conquering the Siamese or the Celts had spread like wildfire, everyone theorizing that the kingdom could be expanded easily, if they aim to wherever. Frey’s old generals all believed that it had more to do with finding and destroying Surtr, and the truly religious believed that the unit was being raised in an effort to bring back Rigg from Valhalla. Many young men were enlisted, sometimes willingly, but most often by force. Still, however, the majority of people found that this time was somewhat prosperous, but not noteworthy,
If, however, you were amongst the privileged few, it was believed, that you knew the true reason. This reason had something to do with Uppsala, and all grew deadly quiet at that idea. However, Gustav and Harald rejoiced in the planned reveal of our plot, which had no confirmed date, no fanfare, was being held in a back alley at night and wouldn’t be a big deal, but that was what they wanted. After all, somebody else has to understand the idea.
The were polishing an axe, specifically the War-Axe of Ragnar, when their king burst into the room, with an army at his back.
Yngvild had taken quite well to Kinghood, his frame having filled out, his beard having grown, and other such things. His current expression was one he had come up with early in his reign, one eye closed, the other eye squinting, one half of his mouth is a frown, and a nostril flaring. It was almost like a code, it told everyone in the palace that something was going to happen whether they liked it or not. This time, he was in full armour, and that silenced his Harald and Gustav.
“Give me the Axe.” Yngvild ordered, “I’m leaving on the reconquest of Uppsala. Preferably today.”
“What if we don’t give you it?” asked the always-curious Harald.
“Then I will gut you, and feed your skin to a rat.” Ungvild said in a way that made it seem serious.
“Of course! But first a question.” replied Gustav.
“What?” inquired Yngvild.
“What’s got you all worked up?”
“Surtr sent me a Swede’s head, threatening to send a thousand more unless I meet him in battle soon.”
Both Harald and Gustav exchanged a knowing look, before handing their leader the War-Axe of Ragnar, and getting their own armour and weapons ready, each took a war horn and blasted it out towards the army. It was a trained response, when the horns blared, the armies would come without fail, as if they were hounds in the guise of men. They would march to the east under the banner of Yngvild, Three Blue Boars over a yellow ground.

Spoiler :

In Asgard meanwhile, Odin was preparing his forces, small though the may be. His Valkyries were awakening the Einharjar of Valhalla, and all were getting ready. But there was one in particular that Odin had to prep, he sighed at the thought, and went into the Raven’s Eyries. There he found Rigg, the great king, standing with both Hugin and Mugin upon his shoulders, eyes closed and mind in prayer. The Raven King then turned to face the Allfather, a deadly calm coming over his features.
“Are you ready for what you must do Rigg?” asked Odin.
“More than ready.” Replied Rigg grimly.
“Well, we should go to lead the troops in the upcoming battle.”
“I suppose.”
The Allfather and the Raven King walked through Valhalla, looking at the still human Einharjar and Valkyries, and both rueing what this trip would transform them into. Both men thought sombre thoughts of the millennia ahead, and each went about readying themselves.
After many hours, the host of Asgard departed for New Midgard, but as the walked along the Rainbow Bridge, Bifrost, a terrible curse came upon them.
The first victims were the Valkyries, whom fused with their horses, creating beings that were called Valkyrintaurs, horses bodies with torsos and bodies of women. The transformation made them more beastly, but added to their grand nobility. Their minds, however, were cracked, and the had very little stability, and many called them mad because of this.
Then the Einharjar succumbed, they transformed into terrible beasts, with the heads of boars, the paws of bears, the claws of panthers, and the bodies of men. They, however, were left with their minds somewhat intact, and they could still wield weapons. Their name was no different than what it was before, although the change was altogether too noticeable to not make an impact.
20,000 ravens flew over the host, and so began the Grand Transformation. Rigg’s hair, and beard were turned into pitch-black feathers, his eyes turned from human eyes, to raven eyes, and he could see all that he wanted to. The ravens flew into his body, merging with Rigg to become one being. Two Pairs of wings sprouted at his back, and in that instant Rigg flew, or was the creature still Rigg? It had many of the same tendencies, but it was much more cold, and calculating. Most agree that it is Rigg to some extent, but he goes by a much different name now, he is called Ravigg, God of Ravens, Night, Strategy, Young Children, and Justice.
Odin sees this and is both pleased, and mortified at the same time, but it was all for a cause more important than any that he had when he was just Tyr, this was one of several events that could decide the fate of the universe.

Meanwhile on New Midgard, the armies of Frey stood outside of the City of Uppsala, which was under the control of Surtr, they saw the scorched remains of walls, and many buildings, though the monument Yngvild had erected as a podium still stood, a cruel mockery of the man who had created the city, regular patrols of spearmen kept the enslaved Swedes and Danes inside the city, the terrible black and red banner of Surtr looking everywhere, as if each was a part of the Allfather’s allseeing eyes. The whole thing was a testament to hatred of the world as it was, and the ever burning bonfires added an eery feeling.
“By Thor’s Ghost.” Muttered Harald, who had been sent to check on the state of defenses. “The Surtrians turned this town into a forretress.”
Harald ran towards the camp that the army had set up, and bolted towards the tent that had been set up for Yngvild. The men of the army were preparing, sharpening their axes, shining their armour, telling as many as they can their wills, the usual preparations for a terrible battle.
As Harald rather loudly burst into the tent, he found Yngvild conversing with a strange creature, and a One Eyed man. The man looked almost like Odin, but wasn’t otherworldly enough, but the creature was the interesting one. Harald looked upon this man, and saw a face that was familiar, but a beard that looked as though it was made of feathers was almost the end of all doubt, it was of the same cut as someone, but Harald couldn’t place it, then he saw the mischievous glint in the eyes, and he knew without a doubt that he was Rigg brought back from the grave. The black wings offset this, as did the raven eyes, but it was clearly the same man.
“Ah, Harald, excellent, Odin and Ravigg were telling me of the state of defenses, and I have decided that we will be attacking the city on the morrow.” said Yngvild, acting as if having their patron god and their first king, now another god, talking to him was no big deal.
Harald put aside his awe, and left, knowing that legend would be made that morning.

The Morning had come, and the armies of Surtr and Frey stood across from each other, and both glared. The strange forces on both sides were noteworthy, after all, there were Fire Giants on one side, and Valkyrintaurs, Einharjar, two gods, and one future god on the other. Both sides were waiting for some invisible, imperceivable signal to engage, and you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. THen, the signal was given, and the two sides rushed at each other, both wanting to win in this deadly embrace, a cloud of ravens hovered over the battlefield, and were a formidable weapon in the hands of Ravigg, who directed them to capture the Surtrians and take them to a place in between the worlds, to be brought back at the end of the battle.
Yngvild felt the presence of Surtr long before he actually saw him, and even the chaos of battle seemed to melt before him. He was emitting heat that turned his golden armor into molten metal, and any blade that happened to touch the armour melted into a mess that dressed the battlefield in a silver pool of hurt. The flaming beard, and hair of Surtr spread a web of scars over every part of his body. His sword was living fire, and his eyes burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.
Yngvild walked towards him, bearing the War-Axe of Ragnar, and a brilliant blue light pulsated from him in a strange way, and Yngvild grew and seemed to have hair made of pure gold.
The Axe hit the molten armour of Surtr, and did barely anything, or at least, it seemed so, but then a frost set upon the gash, and froze that part of the armour.
Then Surtr slashed at Yngvild’s Arm, and fused his armour together, not just itself was fused, but it became one with his arm, and Yngvild could still move it.
Yngvild Struck again, and caused a shockwave of cold, freezing many people on both side, and killing many Fire Giants. Surtr’s armour showed another gash.
The exchange continued as such, with Yngvild slowly becoming one with his armour, and Surtr becoming more and more wounded, until a great bolt came down from the sky.
In that bolt, the magic was given to Yngvild, and he used but a single spell, it created a sea in Surtr mind, snuffing out the blazes that was his thoughts.
When the field looked upon the battle, they found Yngvild, triumphantly holding Surtr’s head.

Spoiler :

Odin was not used to having the company of another Aesir, and Ravigg was one that he had hoped to put off creating, but that couldn’t be helped. The two had similar thought processes, and both were insanely powerful, but there was one other, and he still had a legacy to leave.

 

[CaterpillarKing]

They also have a great sound track.

 

[LucarioTheKing]

Interlude Between the Ages.​

Yngvild looked up from his deathbed, and he saw no one, that was fine, he thought. After all, my daughter has to lead the Vi-Kings now, she can’t spend the entire day by my side. He looked at his arms, part man, but coated in metal, the aftermath of his battle with Surtr, he saw memories flash before his eyes, the Creation of the New Slavery Act after the war, the Surtrians would become the slaves, at least for a couple generations, as any who distinguished themselves, be it on the field of battle or in some other way, would be given the title of False Vi-King, and left to live their life.
He saw his daughter, her red-gold hair shining with an unearthly glow, her face lit with joy, her proving herself to be the most capable to rule only three months back.
He saw the death of Gustav, and of Harald, for they died at the same time. he saw the arrows protruding out of the heads, ending all conscious thought, and destroying their life sources.
As Yngvild lost himself in the flood of memories, a man appeared, or at least a part man. Any who had peered into the room would have mistaken this man for an angel, but he was nowhere near as holy, and many times more powerful. His hair had been replaced with black feathers, his eyes were yellow and black, and his wings sprouted out, as if they wanted to escape from his body.
“King Yngvild.” said the Raven King. “Your time is almost up, are you ready for the rest of your fate?”
Yngvild sighed, and that sigh turned into a coughing fit, he had long ago surrendered himself to his fate, and now it was not as big of a deal as it should have been.
“Alright, there’s no one left to say goodbye to anyhow.” replied Yngvild.
“Excellent, then all you have to do is touch me, and we will leave this world.” replied the Raven King.
Yngvild, reached out his dying hand towards the Raven King, and in that grasp he joined with the soul of the man who had been Rigg, and ascended with him to Asgard, during that ascenion, the world had generations pass, and all was well with the world.

 

[Pliped]

Dont know why I hadnt already subbed this enjoying it

 

[LucarioTheKing]

Sorry for the lack of updating for both this and Hoboken, I got Crusader Kings 2, and it has kinda been eating up my time, but expect an update for both by Thursday.

 

[clanky4]

Sorry for the lack of updating for both this and Hoboken, I got Crusader Kings 2, and it has kinda been eating up my time, but expect an update for both by Thursday.

We must learn to truly appreciate the irony of playing civ4 turning into a chore.

 

[LucarioTheKing]

We must learn to truly appreciate the irony of playing civ4 turning into a chore.

Yeah, for me it's worse than that, I have played far-ish into the future of the game, it's just the writing.

 

[Moai_Spammer]

We must learn to truly appreciate the irony of playing civ4 turning into a chore.

brother, i more than appreciate the irony, i friggin asked the irony out for brunch in a buddhist pagoda and ended up passionately knocking the irony up with a bunch of stories, walking out on my young, developing narratives only to return and say im sorry, while playing favorites to the youngest ones.

for every RT, TD, and Constantinople, who care and see their stories get good homes and jobs and go to college

you got procrastiholics like this guy

Spoiler :

the genius of this analogy didnt quite hit me until i wrote it

seriously, ima make a quote for dis

"The author is to the story as the parent is to the child"

oh and somewhere along i hit the 1700 post mark

 

[LucarioTheKing]

I actually really care for this story, it's the ideas in my head that I hold back on, it was just a case of an awesome game being new to me. Anyways, I now present...

Chapter 12: Wherein the Centuries Pass, and the Wolf and Serpent arise.​

The hall was in disrepair, the banners were faded, and the throne was webbed with cracks. Only ghosts and memories wandered the halls, and the scorch marks in nearly every room betrayed the fate which had befallen the inhabitants, and the ashes had long since scattered. Ancient texts had been turned into kindle for the blaze, and the only boundaries that the fire took any notice of had been the crypt, and the walls. The few remaining materials that were somewhat intact had been taken by the inhabitants of Nidaros to use as this, that, or the other thing. A few of the homeless had taken to using the hall as their home, and the stench wandered casually through the windows.
The Queen had little reason to worry of her family’s hall, as there were other, more important things to do, or at least that’s what her advisors said. The ‘slaves’, if you could find any, were not of the mind to do work, and many an artist, musician or inventors lived during that time, but there was something missing. The world didn’t have the same kind of spark as it had during the days of Ravigg, Yngvild, and the rest, and many a life went by where nothing momentous happened, asides from a generation of the fittest `people being lost in an effort to found a second city.

The citizens of Uppsala had been discriminated against, albeit lightly, for their lack of resistance to the Surtrians all those generations ago. But most was peaceful, and the world was well.

In the very bowels of the earth, something started moving, indecisively, as if they had no clue as to what they were doing, and the Earth got colder as the being moved, and wild men moved towards Uppsala, and the Dark Serpent rose again from the seas, all the living gods, whether they had their own peoples, or helped Odin, took notice, and Fimbulwinter started again.

It was terribly cold. The well had frozen over, the roads and houses disapeared into little more than snow. In the snow covered houses, one could find mangled corpses, and find pawprints laid out in blood from outside the house. It had been a small village, but when the warriors had come, they stripped the village of it’s stockade, and that had let in the wolves, and the wolves had let in this terrible winter.
Olav wandered through these streets, marveling at the destruction that winter had brought with it. He was an unimportant foot soldier, who had been assigned to investigating this Godforsaken village because his commanders were craven weaklings. His eyes burned red with intensity, his charcoal black beard was poorly kept, and seemed to be everywhere, spreading out like a fan. In his hand, there was a well worn spear, betraying decades of use. His helmet was simple leather, hardened into it’s current state by ice.
Damn, Olav thought. They aren’t anywhere near here by now.
Olav walked down the remnants of the town towards his horse, a rare creature, only given out rarely. It was the main reason Olav had agreed to do it, and it was quite useful. He then saw what he was looking for, the lookout tower, a massive structure, that was said to have been built for Odin himself, if one chose to believe the tales of old, which Olav did not.
The tower’s ladder was splintering, and for every fung he climbed, Olav got a handful of anguish.
Why are their so many splinters? thought Olav.
When he reached the top, hours later, he found a terrible sight when he looked towards Uppsala, thousands upon thousands of men dressed in armour of silver, marching towards the city. Even though he wasn’t religious, Olav thought towards an old myth, and found it’s most famous line tucked within the crevasses of his mind.
“Loki’s spawn shall come in many forms, and their wrath shall be felt many times.”
As he said that, a giant wolf leaped onto the tower, and then Olav didn’t have to worry about ever becoming religious, as his life was ended right there.

Spoiler :

 

[LucarioTheKing]

Update soon, have to play out the next bit... and write the story.

 

[clanky4]

I don't blame ya for not trudging on through. Barbarians are one of the reasons I don't like vanilla all that much.

 

[LucarioTheKing]

I've played, or at least tried to play, a couple times, and every time, I either forget to save, or forget to take screenshots. This will be updated, it's just going to end up a story of futility more likely than not. After all, the year is 350 b.c. and no other nation has made a significant impact on the history of my country, not one!

 

[CaterpillarKing]

Are you sure you are just too weak to make other nations want to make an impact?