Are
By the gods, new, old, of this world or the one left in the wake of time, barely a week had passed but it felt like it was a whole lifetime ago since the waves claimed them. Dragging him down to a watery grave and spitting him out as far from reality as one could come. A tale of gods and men he'd wound up in. Finding himself thrown between all the things the stories had spoken of, that Roar had spoken of, magic, tricky deities and shapeshifters just waiting to go at each other. Conflicts he knew nothing about, still he stood fast behind what little friends he had made. Not as a hero or warrior, but as the good man he strove to be. Disregarding the fact that the whole display had been more along the lines of mewling coward frozen in place by fear than the stoicism he had in mind.
A simple cobbler walked the settlement. Keeping busy had been just enough to keep it all contained, shoes by day and stones by night. Working 'til his fingers bled and training 'til his muscles cried. Trading one pain for another and falling down half dead in his cot was exactly the kind of life he'd been proud to lead a short while ago. Yet he was left longing for more. The blasted thief had put delusions of grandeur in his head, as if the calling of Valhall hadn't been tantalizing enough already. Resisting it was no match when life was comfortable and love was close by. Now though, a dead man in a new world, it was closer than ever before. A second chance to prove one's worth.
A chuckle and a shake of his head cleared the racing mind of such folly. Einhärj or not only time would tell, but at that moment there was far more pressing matters to attend to. Such as making friends of those close enough to his home to smell the tanning when the wind pulled north. Shoes, bags and belts helped, but a helping hand and kind words couldn't hurt either. Enough of an excuse to get out of the lonely hovel, his little nest of worry.
"Heil ok sæl!" he shouted as he approached the next house in line on his crusade of labor. "I bring good tidings hard work and able hands!" Are added and put on his best smile, knowing far too well he must look like a vagabond with his clothes in a bundle and wearing as little his decency would allow despite the nipping cold.
A simple cobbler walked the settlement. Keeping busy had been just enough to keep it all contained, shoes by day and stones by night. Working 'til his fingers bled and training 'til his muscles cried. Trading one pain for another and falling down half dead in his cot was exactly the kind of life he'd been proud to lead a short while ago. Yet he was left longing for more. The blasted thief had put delusions of grandeur in his head, as if the calling of Valhall hadn't been tantalizing enough already. Resisting it was no match when life was comfortable and love was close by. Now though, a dead man in a new world, it was closer than ever before. A second chance to prove one's worth.
A chuckle and a shake of his head cleared the racing mind of such folly. Einhärj or not only time would tell, but at that moment there was far more pressing matters to attend to. Such as making friends of those close enough to his home to smell the tanning when the wind pulled north. Shoes, bags and belts helped, but a helping hand and kind words couldn't hurt either. Enough of an excuse to get out of the lonely hovel, his little nest of worry.
"Heil ok sæl!" he shouted as he approached the next house in line on his crusade of labor. "I bring good tidings hard work and able hands!" Are added and put on his best smile, knowing far too well he must look like a vagabond with his clothes in a bundle and wearing as little his decency would allow despite the nipping cold.
