Rage of the Ancient Gods

Posted: May 25, 2010 in DnD
Tags: , , , , , ,

[The prologue to Ancient Trifles.  It’s not played out by my group but more of a back story to some interesting events.  Another part may follow and I apologize for grammar/spelling mistakes.  This was a quick write up.]

Alvis could sense something was amiss as he stood in the door way of his home.  He scanned the horizon, noting the coming clouds and that the wind was picking up speed; there was a storm coming but it wasn’t a natural one.  Lingering a moment longer on his doorstep, Alvis decided he had to prepare himself for what was to come.  There wasn’t much he could do other than board the windows and doors, and put all of his work back in their boxes, but there was that part of him that wanted to see what They were discussing.  After all it wasn’t often the Gods of Thunder and Lightning met.

Alvis lived like a hermit.  His home was made up of one large room.  To one side was his bed and the few items of clothing he had and along the joining wall sat a simple table and simple chair that served as a place to eat and study.  The books and scrolls he had acquired were scattered about in an order only he understood, while empty chests sat open for the moment Alvis decided to put them aside.  In the middle of his home was  a fire pit, made for cooking, heating his bathing water, and keeping him warm during the winter months.  Though it seemed dreary to alien eyes, Alvis wouldn’t have it any other way.

It hadn’t always been that way.  Years earlier he had just entered the age where his parents began to look into arranging his marriage.  Like those before him, Alvis didn’t mind the idea of a wife and, soon after, a child.  In fact he looked forward to having his own home and farm, and taking care of his family.  It was the evening before his marriage when his view on everything changed drastically.  Alvis looked out his bedroom window and caught a glimpse of the full moon.  The howling of hunting dogs filled the rustling air and, for the briefest of moments, Alvis caught sight of Artemis with her bow at the ready as a shadowy prey bounded away.  In the blink of an eye the Goddess was gone and Alvis felt his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  He had taken the sighting as a blessing until Clio appeared beside him with instructions and promises of unfathomable knowledge and renown.  Alvis had been raised in a pious home and he knew that to deny the Olympians would bring disaster.  Before he knew what was happening he had packed only a few items and had stolen one of the family horses and rode eastward.

Slipping into his home Alvis dutifully began to pick up the old scrolls and ancient tomes, placing them into the chests.  Each year he had to redo the floor of his home, replacing the stone, and he had yet been out to find some choice pieces in an abandoned quarry.  It was thanks to those stones that his home didn’t become flooded with each rain but even if the stones had been replaced there was no guarantee they could withstand the might of Godly storm.

A flash of lightning and roll of thunder announced the presence of the two deities, causing a chill to run through Alvis’ body.  He cautiously peered out one of the windows but only saw the rolling clouds.  Taking in a deep breath he closed the shutters and latched them, doing the same to the remaining windows before barring his door.  Even locked in his simple home Alvis could feel the crackling electricity and the power of the Gods as they approached their meeting ground.  He had very little time to prepare.

With a few simple motions a small fire was conjured in the middle of the fire pit, casting it’s yellow light sheepishly across the stone floor.  By memory alone Alvis found a bag of herbs he grew specifically for this purpose.  He slowly began to remove articles of clothing until all he wore was his tattered pants, his scared flesh viewed by the Gods alone.  Kneeling before the fire Alvis took out a small handful of herbs and tossed them into the fire.  The fire roared, flashing with multi-hued flames before spewing thick smoke into the man’s face.  He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes as he felt his body go limp.

Even after many journeys astral travel was always a daunting task for Alvis but his curiosity was stronger than his fears.  He sent himself spiraling upwards, tearing through the clouds until he felt the oppressive energies that belonged to powerful beings.  Within seconds Alvis found himself standing at the feet of Thor and Zeus, though neither God seemed to have noticed him.  The mortal fell to his knees in awe of them both, his heart pounding in his chest as loud as the thunder that sounded around him.

Zeus, the older out of the two, spoke first, “Could this meeting not wait?”

“We are facing dark days, Thunder God,” Thor replied.

“It is one of your brethren, not mine, that has passed,” Zeus frowned.

Passed?’ Alvis thought.  ‘I have heard no word of an Æsir nor Vanir passing.’

A look of growing annoyance flashed across Thor’s face.  “This one death effects us all.  Have your oracles and prophets no ears?”

“Those touched by our power have no such problems,” Zeus spat.  “Tell me why you called for me or leave me be until the meeting in Pythiria.”

“They have found your son,” Thor said softly, “the one that will take your place.”

Zeus’ eyes widened and the electricity that had danced around him only seconds before seemed to disappear.  “This cannot be….”

A sudden flash of lightening caused Alvis to shield his eyes.  When he was able to see, the Olympian thunder God was gone and Thor stood alone.  The mortal looked up at the impressive figure and he soon felt the color drain from his face.  The blonde hair of the thunder God darkened into a color as black as pitch, and his thick muscled formed turned lean.  No longer was he clad in armor but shrouded in rags.

“Loki,” Alvis breathed.  He did not worship the Norse Gods but he knew of them and of their past.  While it wasn’t surprising to see the man shifting forms, it was his lack of usual regalia that struck him.  Loki was fond of fine things but here he wore the rags of a beggar.

“Return to Midgard, human,” Loki seethed, wheeling around on Alvis.  “We have a job for you.”

Alvis felt fear wreak havoc in his mind as Loki spoke to him and as he felt his astral form tumbling back towards his body he caught sight of another form standing beside the Trickster.  Al he could see before he was enveloped by darkness was a cloaked, feminine form holding a golden light.

  1. Spring says:

    Wow, this is gonna be good, I can tell! I look forward to reading the next part. If you decided to write it, that is. 🙂

  2. Fay Fuentes says:

    Heh I am honestly the only reply to your great writing?!?

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