Abasi's Story

Staghelm reached frantically for the purple gemstone skeleton key on the rooftop, moving it slightly with the tip of his middle finger. But the key was just a hair's breath out of reach as the pliosaur closed in on his convertiboat, again trying to bite into the capsule with its elongated snout.

As it bumped into the side of the capsized vessel, the key would slide away from Svegdir Staghelm into the reach of the man behind him, who quickly grabbed it with his freehand before handing it forward to the boat's captain. At that moment, the frustrated Xamatohades would brush up against the side of the convertiboat before withdrawing back into the depths from whence it came.

The pliosaur would not go unscathed. The boat was now capsized, but the rooftop covering was very different from the underbelly of the explorer's capsule, being magically scaled armour aligned with razor sharp edges. The bimini-like roofing would almost filet the creature's face as it brushed its head against the topside of the boat. A trail of blood would follow the pliosaur as it swam away. The injuries would be minor and not life threatening, but the sea monster would learn from these scrapes against its tough scaley skin as it retreated into the darkness.

"Look, it is leaving. It is not following," Jonah Marksberg said as he pointed to the withdrawing beast outside his mirror-glassed window.

Svegdir Staghelm quickly pushed one lever on his control panel while pulling the other, and soon the convertiboat would roll sideways like a football, uncapsizing itself with remarkable ease. Everyone else would regain their composure as they reached the surface of the river and looked around to the banks ahead. The sketch artist once again would open his drawing book and start to draw the landscapes in front of him as Svegdir placed his skeleton key string necklace back around his neck and steered his vessel up the Grigori River towards the open lake in the center of Dracos Valley.

The sketch artist's name was Birger Torvesson, and he was the son of a talented woodworker named Torve Niallesson, a great descendant of Norse-Gaelic bloodlines. Torve's great great grandmother had been a Gaelic Celt descended from Coirpre mac Néill, one of the legendary Kings of Tara which existed in Dalraida since old times. Torve's great great grandfather had been a Swedish Norseman descended from Egil Vendelcrow of the House of Scylfings, which itself had belonged to the House of Ynglings long long ago. Birger Torvesson had followed in his father's footsteps by becoming an artist. Only instead of working with wood, Birger decided to make sketchings instead. He knew all different styles of Celtic knotwork, or Icovellavna and Old Norse sketchwork including the Vendel style, Oseberg style, Broa style, Borre style, Jelling style, Mammen style, Urnes style, and his personal favorite, Ringerike style which he used most often, especially when drawing the flora and fauna he was witnessing on the river banks of Xamoyos.

Birger would make light sketches of the sharp-toothed Xamatohades pliosaur that his team had encountered underwater, along with the small pod of manatee-like Xamatospondylus fish eaters that had surfaced around the convertiboat. He drew the rather large Xamatosuchus crocodilians which were basking on the shore, and the small pterosaurs that were flying around them. He took a few small notes, writing in Old Norse calligraphy while also making sketches of some of the plants and trees near the river bank. Jonah Marksberg was still surveying the area and keeping a watchful eye out for any more predators which might attack, while Svegdir Staghelm focused on piloting their small-sized vessel closer to the inlands. They were heading through Lake Dinesair, straight into the heart of Dracos Valley, but after their close encounter with the long-nosed pliosaur, Svegdir would not dare to lift back the protective bimini-like rooftop on their convertiboat until he was sure they had made it safely to the shore.

"How's our oxygen level?" Svegdir Staghelm asked curiously, seeming remarkably calm for someone who had almost just been eaten. Jonah tapped his finger against the strange barometric apparatus on the center console beside him. This small glass-like vertical narrow tube system measured the atmospheric pressure, temperature, water and oxygen levels inside the convertiboat without using batteries or electricity. It also provided a fairly accurate reading for the atmospheric pressure, sea levels and temperature outside the boat as well, giving the small band of Empyrean Norse explorers a better understanding of the environment around them.

"70%, looking good so far, we've got about another week or two before we start to suffocate in here," Jonah replied, before checking the other readings on the strange apparatus before looking around.

"I'm not seeing any water levels inside the boat. Nothing on the floor either. Our armour is still looking good. I don't see any punctures. Everything looks alright", Jonah informed Svegdir, who was too busy controlling the boat to look behind him.

"That's good. What is our current location?" Svegdir Staghelm asked as he steered the karve closer to land, passing over the center of the lake. Jonah Marksberg would look at the strange Norse barometric apparatus again before looking at the other two karls behind him, who were already pulling out their magnetic water compasses and small wooden sundials. One of them would pull out his portable silver canteen mess-kit and poor a small bit of water into a pot, placing the round 70mm wooden compass into the water while the other karl waited for an indication of where to place the small wooden sundial. Within about thirty seconds, they had their answers from the gnomons on the shadow board.

"We are about seven feet below sea level, heading south-south east. Both gnomons are in alignment, one with the latitude, and the other with the sun. It's about mid-day," Jonah Marksberg commented, nodding to the karls behind him as they put their belongings away. Karvi-1 was coasting smoothly now over Lake Dineasair as the Empyrean Norsemen prepared to reach the shore and step out on to land for the first time in months since they had journied across the stars.

Birger Torvesson continued to draw in his leather bound sketchbook using predatory rock snail purple ink, or red ink made from the gum of acacia trees mixed with dragon's blood resin and wine, which he kept in a couple of thick ceramic white glass jars with screw top lids, and a feather pen made from one of the quills of a common Ellarian falcon. He sometimes added shading to his simple Nordic sketches using a crude coal paraffin crayon or thin black chalk made from a flake of shale rock he had found at one of the sea basins on Gaia, and although his crayon had snapped in half when the pliosaur attacked the boat, it still worked just the same. In fact, he now had two black crayons that he could utilize.

He also had begun drawing a map of Lake Dinesair and Grigori River based on a copy of the previous map of Xamayos etched from Bastion IV's orbit. Birger's keen eye for detail, combining his view of the shoreline around the lake with the practically satellite view of the continent on his other map, enabled him to draw a rather precise rendition of the lake, measuring its size and shape quite accurately for a medieval artist. He also drew up a fanciful knotwork of all the different animals he saw, from the giant red-toothed whale that had lunged up out of the water, to the spinosaurs and hadrosaurs on the lake's shores. But this wasn't just a part-time hobby for the talented sketch artist, it was a very important occupation. His reconnaissance on this exploration would be very useful to King Halfdan and the Empyrean Norse Kingdom at large, and he knew that he had to focus and pay great attention to everything around him.

As the Karvi-1 reached the shoreline, the small band of five Norse explorers would gather their belongings and prepare to embrace the new land. All of them were freemen, but they had temporarily elected the convertiboat's captain Svegdir Staghelm to be their leader, and discussed their most useful services amongst themselves, deciding who would be better at doing what as the Karvi-1 drifted smoothly halfway up on to the grassy bank before coming to a halt. Then everyone would stop and look around silently and cautiously as a pair of Xamatosaurolophus approached their convertiboat, seeming more curious than dangerous at that moment. The hadrosaurs wouldn't see the Norsemen through their mirror-glassed windows, only a smooth reflective silver almond-shaped pod about 25 feet in length which bobbed slowly against the shoreline halfway out of the water without making any sound.

The Norsemen would grip their gold incrested silver shields firmly and ready their golden weapons. Svegdir Staghelm had a silver +VLFBERHT+ long sword and Jonah Marksberg had a golden Frankish-style skeggöx, while Birger Torvesson and the other two Norsemen had simple golden höggspjóts, krókspjóts and atgeirs. Each of them also had their own personal seax and carving knife, a small medicine pouch for treating minor illnesses and injuries, an aluminum canteen mess-kit set for cooking and eating, a rolled up fur blanket or sleeping bag made from bear skin or buffalo hide, a hiking bag containing extra shirt tunics, socks or stockings, trousers, mittens or gloves and undergarments for which to stay dry, healthy, clean and warm. Each of them also had a small hygiene kit or tool pouch attached to their hips, beside their medicine bags.

As a preventative measure, since the Norsemen had only a limited supply of rations, Svegdir Staghelm would hold on to the food satchel, which was very light, consisting of mostly dried reindeer meat jerky and sugarless loafed bread, with a few ripe apples, and a jug of beer for sustenance. This small supply of food would give them the nutrients and vitamins they needed to conserve their energy, but it would only sustain them for a few days. Svegdir knew that they would have to move quickly and work together to set up their base camp. He would glance over his shoulder, looking at Jonah for a second before nodding quietly. Jonah would nod back before pulling on one of the levers in the center console, and soon the curious hadrosaurs would hear a slightly mechanized sound coming from the convertiboat's bimini-like magical silver scale armour rooftop as it started to peel and lift back slowly like the metal visor on a helmet, releasing the wall of Nordic round shields as the Empyrean Norsemen gripped the handles and tucked them closely against their bodies.

Svegdir and Jonah would stare up silently at the
four legged duck-billed dinosaurs, unsure what to make of them. The Norsemen would remain motionless, looking up at the hairless beasts while trying to decide if they were friendly or not. Birger Torvesson gripped the shaft of his atgeir firmly while gazing up at the skies, noticing another small pterosaur gliding overhead. After a moment of heavy caution, the Norsemen would jump out of the boat and drag it further up on to the grassy shore until the ground started to feel harder and dryer beneath their leather laced shoes and soft animal skin boots. Once they got high enough up the incline away from the lake, the five of them would work together to flip the convertiboat over on one side, propping the other side up with one of the mounted oars on the inner side panels of every boat to be used in case of emergency.

The Norsemen were a tall, paler skinned, stouty folk with a variety of hair colors and styles. Svegdir Staghelm, who hadn't been wearing his personally unique antlered helmet, had brownish black long straight freely flowing hair with a short but scruffy goatee and brown eyes. Jonah Marksberg had green eyes, short messy reddish blonde hair and a yellowish orange beard which had been braided thin. Birger Torvesson had darker, wavier reddish brown hair which had been braided back into a long ponytail that just hung loosely over the back of his neck. The other two Norsemen looked equally different, one having a dirty blonde comb over haircut which hung over the side of his face, while the rest of his head had been shaved close to the skin on either side. The last man had long free flowing light brown wavy hair with a curly beard and short mustache, and hazel colored eyes. All five of them were wearing bright blue long sleeved shirt tunics with open laced collars and brown baggy legged trousers which flared loosely before being tucked into their high blue wool socks or skin boots. They were also all wearing decorative costume jewelry, each one different from the other, but all of them wore tiny golden Mjolnir-hammer pendant necklaces which draped down to the center of their chests, serving to remind them of their strength and faith as they started to survey the area and setup camp on a small inclined hill slope.

The Norsemen ignored the large dinosaurs and other animals in their vicinity, for now, as they continued to look around at the surrounding landscape, blending in with the flock, barely noticeable to the large fern eating giants scattered all around them as they worked quickly and stealthily to secure the area as fast as possible, each one sticking together as a small team to accomplish a few basic tasks with precision and a timely plan. They had capsized their boat and set it on the top of a hill on the incline, so that the convertiboat would be concealed from view on the far side of the hill facing away from the lake.

The two lesser spoken karls in blue uniforms would immediately get to work on reinforcing the convertiboat by fashioning a wall, a small three foot tall crawl-in entrance way and a lean-to rooftop overhang using the buffalo skins and bear hides as tarps or curtains, staking the leather coverings down to the ground using some of the local sticks and twigs they found laying about on the nearby shore. They also dug a small fire pit directly in front of the entrance way, placing a ring of smooth lake stones around the pit, directly in the middle underneath the slanted overhang shelter they had created with leather, stakes and string. As one of them ran around collecting any sun-baked driftwood, fallen seed pods, sticks and twigs, the other karl would work on starting the fire using his knife and a tiny flint stone he kept in his tool pouch. He would also work on building a cone-shaped rain collector which doubled as a water purifier using sea salt, charcoal, small flat stones, and a small copper ring using a pigskin sack.

By placing the fire pit under the lean-to roofop and in front of the entrance, the fire would be smaller and the smoke easily directed and dispersed, concealing the Nordic camp even better by masking the billows of smoke and directing the direction of the smoke away from their camp while simultaneously providing an in-flow of heat and warmth to the interior of their boat shelter, protecting both the entrance and the fire from rain. Birger Torvesson continued to keep his eyes open and his ears peeled on everything around him as he stood on the slope of the hill, drawing the styracoxamos that roamed freely, standing with his back to the armored silver diagonal back side of the boat shelter, which formed both the rear wall and the slightly slanted rooftop, and was actually the boat's keel and underbelly.

Jonah Marksberg and Svegdir Staghelm had a more dangerous plan involving their own personal buddy system, as they quickly went about cutting their way through all the very tall high grass in a circle around the hill to create a sort of open yard for which to have a better visual of the immediate area around their tent-like small hut. He collected the long stalks and grass clippings, using them to make a primitive grass bed interior floor matting for the shelter, and for braiding rope or string from the hairs and splines. They also gathered any long broken bones or small fallen trees they could find from any of the nearby trampled foliage, allowing the terrestrial herbivore giants to do some of the hard work for them as Jonah used his longer handled hatchet-like Frankish axe to cut off the branches and start forming piles once the small trees had been dragged back to camp.

The entrance to the shelter on the hill incline would face the lake. Svegdir Staghelm would also make use of the hadrosaurid's footprints on the shore near the lake at the bottom of the hill, turning them into small mudhole fishing ponds for catching food and bait, digging narrow trenches which allowed some fish to swim in, but not out. He began studying the shoreline and the water, taking a mental note of the sand, the dirt, the rocks and pebbles, the driftwood, any shells and seaweed, kelp or whatever else his eyes could observe and his mind could digest. He kept one hand always rested on the hilt of his sword, even while he was working, knowing that the strange new land was likely full of hidden dangers, and that something else like the pliosaur could jump out at any moment. His band had to move quickly.

Wolfgang Yorisson and his band of four rescuers docked their convertiboat in Hanger II as the landing team used flags and hand signals to guide them in. For this task, they had to open the pod doors, meaning that Hanger II would be temporarily exposed to the exosphere of Bastion IV where there would be extremely low densities of oxygen. To prevent the landing team from suffocating or passing out in the very high altitudes, they would guide the Karvi-2 home from behind the thick air-tight pressurized transparent glass wall of the Landing Control Station, a separate room connected to Hanger II for this exact purpose. Once Karvi-2 had landed safely, the thick pod doors were sealed shut again, and oxygen was quickly released through the opening air vents into the hanger. Wolfgang and Kelsey waited patiently to lift back the bimini-like rooftop of their convertiboat until it was safe. One of the messengers in the control station would pull the plug out of the large curling sheep horn megaphone protruding through the wall and spoke into it, his voice amplified by the horn.

"Wolfgang Yorisson, report to the captain's chamber. Jarl Goffre would like to have a word with you, in private" the messenger said nonchalantly.

Once they were cleared to step out of the vehicle, Wolfgang Yorisson and his band left the escape pod's hanger and made their way to the bridge, passing up several other rooms and corridors including the engineering station, the green houses, the mess hall, med bay, weapon defense systems, gender-neutral restrooms and the workout station, as well as many personal lockers and living quarters, passing through one thick air-tight gate after another before reaching the bridge. There, the small band of rescuers would split up and go their separate ways as Wolfgang Yorisson stood at the foot of the guarded ramp leading to the captain's quarters, nodding to the two guards in black bear-hide covered purple uniforms whilst tucking his silver helmet under his arm. There was a great deal of commotion throughout the longship as everyone was excited and gossiping about their near-death experience and the Stjörnhestr's sudden last minute evasive maneuvers around the much larger Aschen Conflagration, with the jarl Goffre Alvisson and his leading pilots being the talk of the ship.

A few minutes later, another tall armed guardian in a black bear-hide covered purple uniform would walk down the ramp, and nod his head respectfully to Wolfgang Yorisson before addressing him. "The Jarl will see you now," he said before accompanying Wolfgang up the ramp to the open doorway of the captain's chamber. Once he stepped inside, the doors would seal shut behind him. Wolfgang gazed around the room, which was actually located inside the gold plated horse-bust prow of the space-faring longship, marvelling at the luxurious surroundings before looking at Jarl Goffre, who was still gazing out of his round mirror-glass silver horse-eye window with his back to Wolfgang and his arms folded behind him, staring at the Hastiti Class cruiser as it slowly drifted further and further away from his view.

"You wanted to see me My Lord?" Wolfgang inquired, a bit confused and curious as to why the jarl had summoned him. Goffre Alvisson continued to keep his eyes on the Aschen cruiser while addressing him. "Go ahead, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable," Jarl Goffre suggested, motioning to the bottle of mead on the table, sitting between two cow horn cups. Wolfgang cocked an eyebrow before slowly walking over to the expensive hand-crafted oakwood table. He picked up the bottle of mead and filled both cups before taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs with grey and white furry wolfskin coverings. "Isn't she magnificent?" the jarl asked, still gazing out of the window. "My Lord?" the karl asked, unsure exactly what the jarl was referring to. "You know what this means, Wolfgang? It means the sagas were right. The world tree is bigger than we could have ever imagined," Jarl Goffre said, still smiling with awe at the size of the much larger Aschen cruiser as it faded in the distance.

Wolfgang Yorisson picked up one of the cow horn cups and took a swig of mead. "That was a good call you made back there, Jarl, everyone on the ship is talking about it," he forwarded. Jarl Goffre gazed out at the stars and the Norse constellations, pointing to one tiny twinkling star in the heavens above and tapping his fingertip on the window, smiling at what he knew that dot to be, the entire Sirius System, the distant solar system of Gaia, their home planet. Goffre Alvisson turned around and walked over to the oakwood table, a look of absolute gladness in his eyes. "And what about the others? Who are they?" the jarl asked, almost as if testing Wolfgang's knowledge. Wolfgang just shook his head, unsure what to say. "Some say they are the Aesir, making their way back to Asgard, or the Angels of the Hvitkristr... others think they might be the Jotnar, or Tunglalfar from another dimension," Wolfgang recalled, repeating the same gossip he had heard on the bridge below. "And what about you Wolfgang, what do you think? Do you believe any of that to be true? Do you believe they are really gods?" Goffre asked inquisitively.

Wolfgang thought about that question silently for a moment, taking another swig of mead before wiping his mouth on his blue shirt sleeve and shaking his head. "No," he answered. "And why not?" immediately asked the jarl. Wolfgang looked down at the table, contemplating his own answer as if he had not really been sure of it himself. "Because..." he hesitated. Jarl Goffre leaned over the table closer to him, looking into Wolfgang's eyes. "Because?" he asked, urging him to finish his reasoning. Wolfgang paused for a moment, then looked up at him. "Because... If that was true, then why did they run from us?"

Wolfgang had a point. Jarl Goffre nodded and smiled, refilling the karl's cup before picking up the other cup of mead and raising it in the air. "My sediments exactly," he said, offering a toast to Wolfgang before taking a swig of mead. "I knew you were a smart man Wolfgang, which is why I have another favor to ask you... I wonder if you wouldn't mind going down to check on our fellowmen, and see how Svegdir Staghelm is doing. Now that I know for sure we're not alone in the galaxy, I'm beginning to wonder if they might not be either," Jarl Goffre suggested.

Wolfgang Yorisson just nodded quietly, taking another swig of mead before turning to gaze out of the window at the continent of Xamoyos below.

The Empyrean Norse encampment was underway. The gang's shelter had been constructed, the fire was going, the fishing traps were set and the rain catcher was complete. Svegdir Staghelm and Jonah Marksberg had finished clearing the area surrounding their campsite and had already started on building a wooden fence around the shelter at the base of the hill. Birger Torvesson had finished drawing a rough map of the immediate area and was still on the hill slope, sketching the different things he saw in his leather bound journal. He watched quietly as a few species of small flying animals landed on the silver rooftop of the shelter, and as they perched themselves in place, he started to draw them as well. The other two karls, Borstein and Danegh, had left the fire burning as they ventured off further into the brush to look for any recognizable nuts and berries, and anything else which they might be able to forage and store for later.

Borstein and Danegh would use the buddy system, bringing their golden dwarf-crafted spears with them as they wandered off into the bushes, cautiously observing the nearby fauna to see what the giant herbivores had deemed edible. Borstein found a small pile of animal droppings on the ground and crouched down to examine it. He waved his hand over the pellets to see if they were fresh, and, finding the dung to be cold and almost dry, he picked up a small portion of it with his fingertips and sniffed it, breaking the grassy substance apart with his fingers to examine whatever might be contained within. Not surprisingly, Borstein found what he was looking for. There in the animal's droppings, he found berries, and he wiped his fingers on his pants before scouting the area to see if he could find a source.

In the meantime, Danegh had spotted a strange looking tree that was rather foreign to him, and a large rodent-like creature similar to a big squirrel, or even maybe a lemur of some kind, that had been clinging to the side of the tree watching him with bulging eyes. That's not a possom, he thought, but it would sure do the trick. Danegh tried to hook the creature with his spear, but it quickly lept off the tree and darted off into the bushes. He wasn't about to give up that easily though, as he swung around the tree and chased the critter into the foliage. Back at camp, Svegdir Staghelm was using a rock to hammer down a fence post into the ground when suddenly he struck something beneath the soil. There was something hard under the surface obstructing his project. He removed the fence post, pulled out his small seax and began digging. What he found was another rock about the size of a softball. But it wasn't just any rock. It was a diamond, larger than any diamond he had ever seen before. Svegdir couldn't believe his own eyes. Not even a whole hour on this new land, and already he was richer than any other karl in the entire kingdom. But now was not the time to be greedy. He quickly dug another hole and reburied his newfound treasure close to where he would put his next fence post, with plans of coming back to it later.

Birger Torvesson watched as the winged rabbit with razor sharp pointy teeth flew down out of nowhere and attacked the sun-bathing pterosaurs, scuffling for a moment before they all flew away. What a very peculiar place, he thought to himself, deciding it might be better for him to return to the shelter and check on the fire. Jonah Marksberg continued to strip and chop wood with his long-handled Danish axe, fashioning thick long pointed stakes to be used for fencing, while making a pile of bark and other scrap wood to be used in the fire. "Did you see that?" Birger asked. "See what?" asked Jonah, who was apparently too busy to notice anything at the moment. Birger Torvesson just shook his head, and started adding dry bark to the fire. He then sat down in front of the fire pit and opened his book, proceeding to make another rough sketch of what he had seen.

Borstein had found a small patch of shrubs with blue colored berries on them similar to the ones he had seen in the animal droppings. He started to pick the small berries and place them in his belt pouch. Borstein was a skilled Norse survivalist who knew better than to just eat some random wild berries, but he collected a whole bunch of them and stored them for later. "Danegh, come see this. Look at these berries I just found." Borstein said as he started to pick the small blue hued seeds and place them in his bag. But Danegh didn't respond. He had instead went chasing after the squirrely rodent with his spear, heading off into the brush. So consumed were they in what they had been doing, Borstein and Danegh had unknowingly strayed too far away from one another. Danegh would chase the critter to its underground burrow and smile. The creature was trapped now, he thought, as he snuck up to the entrance of the burrow and prepared to thrust his spear into the hole. But just then, something caught his ear.

"H...eeeeelp meeeeeee."

Danegh heard something which sounded like a human voice calling out for help. But he didn't recognize the person's voice. It didn't sound very familiar to him, or like any of the Norsemen he had arrived with at the valley. "Borstein? Borstein, is that you?" Danegh asked before clutching his spear with both hands and going deeper into the bushes to investigate the origin of the distress call.

"Odin's gallows, you look like shit,", Borstein said as the sauropod took a car-sized dump. He watched as the dung beetles proceeded to climb on top of the dino poo. He then turned to look behind him. "Heheh, Danegh, look at the size of the giant's dung. It's like a mountain," he chuckled. But nobody was behind him. Danegh wasn't there. He had wandered too far away from Borstein and away from the base camp. Borstein soon stopped smiling. He narrowed his eyes when he didn't hear anything from Danegh, and picking his spear up off of the ground with one hand, Borstein went looking for his fellowman.

Back at base camp, Birger and Jonah stopped what they were doing and looked at the newer, larger pterosaur with the jagged beak as it squawked at them. Neither one of them said anything or did anything but stared at the large flying creature for a moment as if listening to its opinion. Or maybe it's advice? After an ackward moment of staring at the pterosaur silently as if they didn't understand what it's squawk was about, Birger and Jonah went back to work, doing whatever they had been doing, which was mostly chopping wood and tending to the fire while detailing information about the new land they were in. Svegdir continued to build the fence around the shelter, shaking his head.

As Danegh went searching for the source of the distress call, he heard it again. "Hellllp.. Bornstein... meeeeeeeeee" Danegh eventually stopped. Suddenly, a xamatorapter rose its head up out of the bushes and looked at him, wiggling its feathery mane. It snarled at him. Danegh didn't know what to make of it. He raised his spear in front of him and pointed it at the raptor, but didn't move. He was on alert now, but had no idea that Erin was there, and wasn't even thinking about the possibility of her presence at that time. All he could see was a snickering reptile with a lot of sharp teeth and claws. He hadn't worn armor. All he had was a spear and his blue coat to protect him. He stared at the raptor as it snarled at him, and for a moment, Danegh snarled back.

Danegh soon found the origin of the human-like distress call. It had been a raptor, and it wasn't alone either. Three more raptors came running up from behind the first one to see what it had found. Danegh gripped his spear and gritted his teeth, bracing himself for an ambush. What were these beings who stood before him? Were they dwarves, or giants perhaps? Danegh had heard old stories about the dwarves and giants being able to shapeshift into animals and take on the personification of the forest. But those were ancient myths, and he wasn't expecting he'd ever run into a band of them on this new land.

Danegh glared at the Xamatorapter for a moment, gripping his spear with both hands as he pointed the spear point at the bipedal creature, so similar to one of Odin's ravens that it had to be a spirit. "Odin," Danegh said, forgetting all about the distress call for a moment. He stared at the raptor curiously, letting down his spear to accept his fate in the talons of the ravens, when suddenly a metal egg hit the ground and rolled between them, exploding in a flash of white light. Danegh would take a knee and divert his eyes with one arm, still holding his spear. He was blinded.

Back at the camp, Birger started to get an erie feeling about whether or not they should have camped on the slope, as he looked up at the Gladioxamos and took note of its creepy bird-like demeanor. As a male perched beside her, Birger grabbed his notebook again and made a sketch of the differences between the two, though it never occurred to him that one was male and one female. Just as the pterosaurs would be surprised to find that they had perched on elven silver, which their weight and claws could neither scratch nor bend, for it had been forged by enchantment to protect the Empyrean Norse starships in the vacuum of space.

Svegdir Staghelm and Jonah Marksberg finished building the fences around the hill and began working on the other fences around their boat house. Borstein walked back to camp, looking disgruntled as he walked up the hill. "Where's Danegh? He's supposed to be helping me find some food," Borstein said, upset that someone would leave such an important task and return to base. But Danegh wasn't there. "I don't know. We thought he was with you," Staghelm answered, still hammering down his final post. Borstein looked over to Birger and Jonah, before turning around and looking back towards the thick brush at the treeline. He raised his his hands and cupped his mouth to shout Danegh's name, but Svegdir quickly stopped what he was doing and placed his hand over Borstein's mouth to silence him before he could make a big sound.

Birger's ear twitched at the sound of the creeping treetops. He would take note of it, and the strange looking fruit as it hit the earth with a plop. Svegdir looked suspiciously at Borstein before gazing into the thicket. One of his team members was missing in action. His primary objective had changed. He lowered his hand from over Borstein's mouth, but motioned for him to be silent as he gazed over at the spikey fruit, before gazing into the woods again. Svegdir and Borstein then both walked down the open hill together, heading into the dangerous forest to look for Danegh.

Birger Bengtson was the most talented artist during the Golden Age of what seemed to be a rising Nordic Empire, and Bengtson was a real Renaissance man, similar in comparison with other great artists like Michelangelo in his own right. Only his style was different, and his sketch work was rudimentary, more similar to carpentry designs than to sculptures or paintings. But he wrote in a similar linear script from left to right, using runic characters that seemed more fitting for wood or stone carvings than for papyrus or canvas.