Hrjólfur Týr Úlfsson

[Ævar Hrafn]

The Death

It was a bright day, the air was chilly and winter was drawing near, out on the field three men stood in the cool breeze. Two of the men had their weapons out and pointed towards the third who was facing them, his eyes blood shot and his muscles rippling slightly, his skin moist with sweat, leaning heavily on his axe and blood dripping from a deep cut behind his left ear. You are bleeding and are exhausted Hrjólfur give up and accept your exile, the Þing even conceded upon allowing you to sail out to Norway on the next merchant ship so you wont be forced to fight for your life.
Hrjólfur started to respond when he heard the sound hoofes coming in their direction from over the hill, he swung around his weapon using his momentum to lift his axe and swing it at the man who had been speaking, he ducked but the axe rended open the flesh on his forehead, splitting open his skull and spilling out a gush of blood and gore accompanied by a suprised yelp from the other man. Hrjólfur ripped his axe from the man's skull and started towards the other man who now held a short sword and a shield.
He had better armour than his partner who was now writhing on the ground trying to hold pressure on the wound which was obviously fatal, but the injured man was in shock and wasn't accepting his inevitable death. The burly man standing infront of him clad in chainmail along with an iron helm threw his short sword at Hrjólfur and struck his right thigh, Hrjólfur was so suprised the man would discard his weapon with no obvious backup weapon he started laughing. Then the other man leaped at Hrjólfur and got so close to him that Hrjólfur's axe was useless, then the man brought his shield up under Hrjólfurs chin.
Hrjólfur felt his jaw break and blood sprayed from his mouth, he fell on his back and spit out two and a half teeth , the other man stood up and was about to kick Hrjólfur in the face, when Hrjólfur ripped the sword from his leg and swung it vigorously in a wide arc striking the mans leg from behind where his leather pants left him open for attack and the sword sliced through the man's leg coming out just above his knee. The man roared in pain screaming for help as the riders came over the hill on Hrjólfurs far right. Hrjólfur tried to stand up but felt woozy and could not think clearly he fell backwards and landed on top of the man that had just lost his leg. The man screamed in agony and Hrjólfur reclaimed the short sword wich had fallen to the ground and cut open the mans throat and stabbed him in intestines spilling out bile. The horrid smell that followed cleared Hrjólfurs senses and he managed to stand up blood gushing from his open wounds, the cut behind his ear and the stab wound where the sword had struck him. He stabbed the sword into the ground and picked up his axe, working himself into a berserker frenzy praying to Thor for strength as the four men closed in on him.

Hrjólfur the man in the lead said, "the Þing was leniant in your case they were going to let you leave, but now you have killed two more men and this can not be abidden", then they all dismounted other than the man who had spoken known as Höskuldur, two of the men advanced on him both using long swords and wearing leather armor.
Hrjólfur let loose a vicious battle cry that startled even the horses then rushed towards them, one of the men backed away one step and lost his balance as Hrjólfur hit the other man in the chest with his axe tearing appart the leather hauberk, revealing a chain tunic under the now cut open leather armor. The man fell on his back from the blow and rolled on the ground to get to his sword, he reached out for the sword, but saw he would not make it since the frenzied Hrjólfur was about to swing at him again, he reached for his longseax unsheathed it and stuck it into Hrjólfurs ribcage, Hrjólfur felt the steel hit his armor and slip through the ring's of his crude chainmail.

Hrjólfur kicked the man back down from his sitting position and cleaved open the mans shoulder, blood was pumping out of the wound in streams of gore and steam was rising from the wound because of the cold and blood was covering the ground beneath the man. Hrjólfur then turned around threw his axe at Höskuldur, but the axe failed to hit Höskuldur but it struck his horse in the head killing it instantly. He then pulled the seax out of his body and stalked towards the man that had cowered away from him when he had let out the battle cry, who was infact Höskuldurs cousin who was known for lack of courage. Höskuldur came towards Hrjólfur with his daggers, and in a blinding flurry of attacks he had landed three shallow slices on Hrjólfurs cheeks. Hrjólfur was losing blood fast and managed to stab his longseax into Höskuld before the man's useless cousin hit Hrjólfur in the lower neck with a solid blow with his sword, snapping Hrjólfurs spinal column but not enough to decapitate him. Hrjólfur was aware long enough to feel his body go limp, he felt helpless he could not defend him self. The last thing he saw was Höskuldur standing up draging the seax out of his side and dropping it infront of his face, reaching for his sword and then there was only darkness.

The Ascent To Immortality

Hrjólfur awoke on a slab of rock feeling fine, he rose up rubbing the back of his neck and felt no pain, and didnt find any wounds. He concluded he must be in Asgard, he smiled to himself and thought Immortality, fighting, free mead and celebrations so the stories were true. He gathered his things, his axe was leaning onto the altar he had awoken on, his armour was mended and he felt younger than before, although not an old man at the age of 36 he didnt have the same endurance as when he was young, but now he felt as good as ever. He walked out of the chamber he had awoken in and entered a hallway, light shone through the windows in the hallway and Hrjólfur smiled and said to himself "My first day in the realm of the gods" this could get interesting.

[Bograt]

wow what a fantastic story, very bloody, remind me never to annoy a Zerker,

Thanx for a Great Story, Keep em coming :-)

[Ævar Hrafn]

When he got out of the large stone house he had awoken in, he saw an immense city before him he also saw gigantic walls surrounding the city and he figured he must be in the giant walled city of Idavoll, the stone temple was on top of a hill inside the city and looking down from the hill top Hrjólfur could see no people in the city. As he explored the city streets he heard the sound of battle coming from the other side of the walls of this magnificent city, he ran up the street that followed the wall until he found a opening guarded by two stone statues one of Óðinn and the other one of Þór as he passed them and ran out he saw hundreds of Einherjar standing in a circle cheering. He walked over to the cheering Einherjar and saw that there were two men fighting inside the circle that the Einherjar had created.
One of the men was wielding two small wrist blades and was covered in a blue aura and he wasn't moving at all, the other man in the circle was cloaked by a dozen of runes shimmering in the air and then he struck out smashing one leg of the other man who just looked like he was frozen. The leg fell to the ground and smashed into little pieces, each giving Hrjólfur a view of veins, layers of fat, bone and sinew. Then the man dressed in blue was prepairing to slam his staff against the mans head, as soon as he started swinging the other man instantly thawed, screaming out in pain, putting one hand against the blood gushing wound on his leg that had been mauled and broken into fragments; who now had also melted and were covering most of the "arena" with small pieces of gore smearing blood all over the ground. His other hand trying to cover his face from the impending smash from the mans sturdy staff. The staff hit the man's arm and a audible crack of breaking bone could be heard over the savage cheering of the Einherjar. An open wound was now visible on the mans arm, broken bone protrude out of the mans wound, causing a pulsing spout of blood spraying over the crowds around him. The man fell to the ground from the blow of the staff and landed on a pile of his own leg screaming "I will get you next time Dagur" then the sorcerer walked across the battle arena, picked up one of the man's wrist blades and rammed it into his eye-socket. The blade was to wide to fit into the man's eye socket but this didnt stop the mage. The man was stronger than any Hrjólfur had seen before, because even as the thin edges of the blade's serrated steel were chipping he continued pushing it further into the mans skull. The bone around the eye socket broke; the release of pressure caused the mage's hand to slam into the wound as well and buried the weapon deep into the ground.
Then the man stood up walked over to a giant of a man who was clearly disappointed with how the fight had gone, and said "give me what is mine". Hrjólfur who was standing only about two meters away saw the big man hand the mage a ball of what looked like plain iron. The crowds were shouting and cheering for the mage, who Hrjólfur heard was named Dagur from the pleased, and cursing yells from men who had been betting on the fight. Hrjólfur walked up to the giant man who had handed the mage the ball of iron and said, what is going to happen now? The man laughed and said, new to the city are you? Yes I arrived here today and haven't talked to any one yet only saw the fight then came to ask you since the fighter seemed to think you were worth talking to. The man looked at him solemnly and said, well now we drink.

[Bograt]

"he fell on a pile of his own leg" LOL love that line

love this story, making me squirm with all the gore lol

[Ævar Hrafn]

Calling it a bar brawl was doing it injustice, hundreds of vicious Einherjar, men and women slugging it out, then sitting down eating a bit drinking more mead then jump back into the brawl. The large from the fighting arena was called Jötunn.
He had taken Hrjólfur to the bar and been chatting to him since the fight of the two men he now knew as Dagur and Örn. Dagur is a Stormwright, and Örn the man that had been killed earlier today now stood on the other side of the bar from Dagur and kept looking his way, Dagur completely ignoring the man, which was not really a good idea because the man was a Trickster and his patron god Loki, so no one knows what kind of mischief he was planning to unleash in the bar. The only signs of Örn having died earlier that day was that one of his serrated wrist blades was missing all the serrations which had come off when Dagur rammed the blade into the mans face.
Suddenly a chair came flying from the top level of the large building, and it landed on the table in front of Hrjólfur. He jumped back and crashed into a woman holding four mugs of ale. He apologized and she smiled at him, then she dropped three of the mugs and slammed the last one into Hrjólfurs ear, stunning him while she picked up one of the broken chair's legs and smashed it into Hrjólfurs face smacking him to the ground. Then she went to get four more mugs of ale, Hrjólfur embarrassed because the men on the surrounding tables were pointing and laughing at him, stood up and felt his head was bleeding.
Hrjólfur decided he was walking out of the bar when he heard the Stormwright call for him. He walked over to the man who told him to sit down. Hrjólfur sat down the man still had his staff but now the iron ball that Jötunn had handed him earlier that day was stuck in the top of the staff, although it's bashing power had seemed enough with out the iron Hrjólfur could only imagine what kind of damage the man could do with it like this. Dagur told him all kinds of lore about the city Hrjólfur was living in now and he also told him where to go for supplies new weapons and how to get to the playing grounds of this plain. Hrjólfur told him he had already been there, and had seen the fight. At that Dagur glanced over to where the Trickster had been. Hrjólfur looked across the bar as well and the man named Örn was no longer there, this seemed to unsettle Dagur and he said, "Lets get out of here".

[Ævar Hrafn]

As they stepped out of the tavern a cool gust of wind hit them, Dagur drew a deep breath and said "ok so what do you know about this place?" Well only the basic common knowledge, city of the gods, immortals, battle, Hrjólfur glanced over his shoulder and saw a man fall out of the window on the second floor of the tavern; oh and lots of brawls. Dagur stopped and faced Hrjólfur, well there is allot more to it than that. As they continued on through the city of Idavoll watching the adobes of the Einherjar and the giant castle forts of the gods such as Thor's Thrudheim, Dagur proceeded to explain all about the factions and politics of the immortals. Hrjólfur who was never good at politics and had been killed in Midgard because he was condemned by the Þing (council) of Iceland into exile that he did not accept. Dagur told him about the different profession's he could choose to make his own in the plains of the immortals. And of the guilds that mostly didn't agree on any thing at all, then suddenly Dagurs face became serious and he looked like he was listening for some thing.

He signalled Hrjólfur to keep talking and act like nothing was wrong. Then he told Hrjólfur to stretch his back and look up to the right and try to see the abnormal shadow covering the roof of the building to his right, he did this and noticed that there was a large area in the sky where the stars were blocked out by a shadow that could not possibly be cast from the street lights attached to the bottom floor of the building. Hrjólfur looked over at Dagur with a surprised look on his face, "what is it" he whispered. Dagur kept walking and said, well that is a trickster and he is trying to sneak up on me.

Hrjólfur realised this was the same man Dagur had been fighting earlier that day, and he was here for revenge. Moments later Örn walked around a corner of a building about thirty paces ahead of them, yet the conjured shadow that had been moving from building to building still occupied roof of the house next to them. Dagur looked up at the roof of the building, then at Örn and said " brought company this time thief?" Örn glared at him and responded "well I tried a fair fight against my better judgement and this time I went with my gut feeling of playing it dirty." Hrjólfur darted up to the building on his right when he heard a bow being strung. He then slammed against the door with his shoulder, as the door splintered to bits Hrjólfur realised just how much stronger he was now than he had been as a mortal. He called out to Dagur who had just caught an arrow with his bare hand to follow him into the building eliminating all advantage from the elevated position the would be assassins had. Dagur darted into the house and they ran up to the second level where Dagur ripped a door from its hinges and threw it down the stairs resulting in a satisfying grunt of pain from some one on the first floor.

They rushed to the third floor where a ladder ascended to the roof of the building, there were two rooms on the top floor and the doors to both rooms were open. Hrjólfur reached for the axe he had strapped to his back, even though it was not meant for use inside buildings or any area where he had little space to manoeuvre. Dagur reached into a pouch that was tailored to the inside of his cloak, Hrjólfur noticed he picked up a little vial of clear liquid and threw it inside on of the rooms on the floor, a blinding flash followed along with a shout of pain, they both rushed into the room where a man wielding a long dagger along with a throwing knife stood stunned, the man was wearing tight black clothes to go unnoticed at night.

The man seemed to regain his senses and threw the knife at them they both managed to dodge and Hrjólfur reached for the small knife pulled it out of the wall, and threw it at the man striking him in the left shoulder as he was reaching for his other dagger. The knife pierced the mans shoulder making a thudding sound as it struck the wall behind the man, Hrjólfur had only a split second to stare in awe at his what his own immortal strength had achieved before he heard Örn finally come up the stairs to the floor they were on.
Dagur exited the room again to face down Örn; meanwhile Hrjólfur picked up his axe and swung at the other man. The assassin seemed to phase out of view and as Hrjólfur was trying to figure out what he had just seen a cut on his face seemed to come out of nowhere but he felt the impact of the weapon, then he realised that the man was a mage of sort, just like Dagur. Hrjólfur began to swing his axe wildly at nothing flailing his weapon into thin air when he felt the shaft of the axe make contact with some thing that he could not see with his own eyes. He followed up on the place where he had felt the axe strike some thing, but hit nothing instead he felt a blade slip through his side between his ribs and puncture a lung on his right side. He let go of the axe with his right hand and slammed his elbow backward, hitting the mans nose and out of nowhere the man appeared, blood gushing out of his face. The man had dropped one of his blades and Hrjólfur swung his axe at the mans hand as he tried to reach for it, quickly realising he would not make it the man lept to his feat and instead reached into his belt pouch, drawing out another throwing knife.

This time the knife did not miss but struck Hrjólfur in the right shoulder, Hrjólfurs right side was now incapacitated and he had to use his left arm to swing the axe, although the axes weight was no problem the angles from which he was swinging were. On an upward swing Hrjólfur made contact with the man's hip, ripping open his side. Entrails dropping out of his body since Hrólfur had sliced open the nameless assassins abdominal area, the man with a surprised look on his face dropped his knifes and tried to push his own guts back into his body. Needless to say he did not succeed and as he fell to his knees his fingers punctured his intestines, releasing horrible smell and body gas into the air and as soon as the man died the corpse lost its bowels spreading blood and excrement over the floor.
Hrjólfur entered the corridor outside where Dagur was pinned down, a dirk through each of his hands pinned him to the floor and Örn stood over him with Dagur's own staff on a downward swing towards the mages face. Hrjólfur sprinted towards the trickster slamming into his back just after the staff struck the floor; Dagur had dislocated his shoulder and managed to get out of the way just as Hrjólfur had tackled the man from behind. Throwing Örn down the stairs only seemed to make the man angrier. Hrjólfur ripped the daggers out of Dagurs hands releasing him, Dagur picked up his staff and Hrjólfur noticed that as soon as he touched the staff his hands healed. Örn came running up the stairs but when he saw Dagur wielding his staff he ran back down and wasn't to be seen for the rest of the night.

[Bograt]

Fantasatic stuff Ævar, keep it coming, love the tricksters :-)

[Adeon]

A very nice story

[Leageth]

Hell YAh! I wanted to be a stormwright before, but now I REALY REALLY wanna be a stormwright. Keep up the awesome story!

[Ævar Hrafn]

Hrjólfur was learning from Dagur a lot about how the Einherjar lived and what they did all day to keep them self entertained; most of it was combat, drinking and listening to Skalds who told stories of the gods and of the Einherjar themselves. Hrjólfur and Dagur had gone to the guild house of Dagur's clan, The Order of Frost. There he got a good meal and drink and also a bed to rest in. Dagur told him that his wounds would have healed by tomorrow and then they would go out and find something to do outside of the city. Hrjólfur woke up to the sound of someone knocking at his door; he grabbed his seax and walked to the door. He opened and greeted Dagur with a strong handshake and asked what they would be doing today. Dagur told him they would be going to the boundaries of Myrkvid where things were that needed killing. After getting food and drink, Hrjólfur was given a Medallion of Frost so he could enter the guild hall without the company of Dagur. Hrjólfur took the medallion happily, thinking that this was a place as good as any to sleep, drink and eat.
Hrjólfur and his companion headed north out of the great city of Idavoll heading towards the great and dangerous forest called Myrkvid (Icelandic: Dark Forest) in search of Huldrefolk and other beasts. On the boundaries of the forest they stopped and Hrjólfur noticed that there were no sounds of birds or other critters coming from the forest, just the creaking of the wood as the trees swayed in the wind and the quiet breathing coming from Dagur. It was so still that Hrjólfur heard his own heartbeat pulsing in his ear, there was great power in this forest of this he was sure when he faced the forest it was almost like facing a giant fire he felt warm on his face and had to look away from time to time, because the power was just too much for him to handle, Dagur on the other hand just stared into the forest without blinking. Moments later Dagur walked forward, Hrjólfur followed reluctantly at first, but then caught up with him and put his right hand on the hilt of his seax, moving towards the forest ready to face anything, he thought.

[Ævar Hrafn]

Dagur and Hrjólfur had been walking in Myrkvid for about half an hour when they entered a small clearing. Hrjólfur was thankful for getting out of the grips of the forest for even a small amount of time. He felt as if the Forest was forcing its power on him to see how much he could take without buckling from the immense force flowing from this ancient forest that even the gods felt uneasy about entering. The only thing they had seen other than trees, grass and other plants was some ruins that Dagur had said was part of the old wall around Idavoll. As they continued forward through the bushes they heard a strange voice speaking in a language that sounded more like someone was clearing his throat than he was actually speaking, but it was replied to in the same strange dialect in a more raspy voice. Hrjólfur, who had taken a bow out of the armory in the Guild house of The order of Frost, cocked an arrow on the string and pulled back waiting for the voices to pass them by. As the Huldrefolk passed them, Dagur threw a vial of clear liquid at the one on the right; as the crystal vial broke the man turned around and ran for them. His compatriot turned around and pulled out a bow, Hrjólfur released the arrow and hit the creature in the throat ripping out his jugular vein and the man dropped only moments later, spraying blood over the small clearing they had been running from. The other one that had run towards them Hrjólfur now noticed had stopped and just stood there while Dagur walked up to him and smiled, then he picked up a small rock walked back to Hrjólfur nodded at him then threw the rock at the frozen beast and hit him in the eye, the huldre warrior smashed, the upper right half of his face missing, the potion had not frozen him solid though so brain and blood started leaking out slowly. Hrjólfur walked up to the one he had hit with the arrow and picked up his backpack, it had 10 arrows in it, he took the arrows and backpack but discarded the moldy looking bread and the foul smelling water that had also been in there.
As they continued onward into the forest, they saw smoke and felt the smell of burning wood. They snuck upon a large clearing hiding in one of the larger bushes surrounding the relatively clear area. This appeared to be the main camp of the Huldrefolk warriors, since they had four tents and they counted at least fifteen warriors and two Shamans. Hrjólfur laid his axe on the ground and grabbed the bow, he cocked an arrow on the string and aimed for one of the shamans. Dagur told him to wait for his signal; he then placed his backpack on the ground and reached into it, pulled out a hardcover gem encrusted tome and started to read out from the book. After about two minutes a blue aura surrounded them; he then turned a few pages and started to read out again, this time Hrjólfur did not see or sense any effect when Dagur finished. Hrjólfur asked what the spell had done, Dagur smiled at him and told him to fire at the shaman. Hrjólfur pulled the arrow back aimed down the shaft of the arrow at the head of the elder looking shaman who was talking to the other one, who appeared to be only half the age of the one Hrjólfur was preparing to execute.

[Ævar Hrafn]

Then two things happened in the blink of an eye, a ball of what looked like liquid fire engulfed half of the clearing, turning at least 7 of the warriors into brittle ashen molds of what they had been; the corpses still stood exactly as they had been before they were burned but were now only a husk of ash and perhaps bone, if the fire had not seeped into that as well; the second thing that happened was that Hrjólfur fired his arrow at the Shaman. The arrow flew true, but what Hrjólfur had not expected was that the arrow would turn into a large icicle slamming into the Huldre’s skull piercing through and hitting the younger one in the left shoulder tearing into his right shoulder and pinning him to the ground under the corpse of his comrade who was leaking brain and clear liquid from his eye on his chest and face. Hrjólfur then dropped his bow, picked up his two-handed axe and stormed into the camp. Confusion and chaos was the only thing stopping the huldres from charging at him all at once, but Hrjólfur slammed the double-bladed axe through the midget-like body of a young huldre warrior. He then spun around and thrust his boot into the gut of another adult warrior knocking him to the ground. As he continued the spin, he saw the huldre was laying on a rock with both his arms covering his head and completed the spin with a downward swing of his axe cutting through meat and bone, decapitating the huldre also slicing through both his wrists at the ulna so there were three large open wounds pulsing blood, which stopped bleeding fairly quickly since it was spraying out quite a distance about four feet or so.
Hrjólfur, who was now covered with blood, looked to the other side of the camp where the huldres were heading to, a woman in an orange robe with iron crests on her shoulders and forearms was holding a blade almost as big as his axe except that her blade was made out of pure flame and appeared to have no handle, but looked like it was infused to her forearm and as the flaming blade made contact with the steel weapons of the huldres in front of her the scalding flames of her sword slipped right trough cutting the weapons in two. The blade had the same effect on flesh and she finished mopping up the warriors in no time. Meanwhile Dagur had walked up to the surviving huldre shaman and smashed his skull in with the end of his cane that held the large iron ball that glowed in an ethereal blue every time he wielded it in combat.
Hrjólfur walked up to Dagur and asked who the woman was. Dagur only said,"She is a pyromancer, a clan as unlike mine as possible. They have an affinity for the flame as where I command the frost." She walked towards them, the blade of fire shrank back, molded into a hand and then turned from flame to flesh. Hrjólfur just stared at the pyromancer in awe and was dumbfounded by this stun, whereas Dagur greeted her with a nod of respect for her power. She smiled and asked,"What business does a stormwright and a guildless have in the forest of power?" - "I am showing him the plains to help him prepare for the choice of guild. He has already accepted the Medallion of Frost if not only for a place to sleep and eat." Hrjólfur looked away at this, because those were the exact reasons for his acceptance of the medallion. "Well, my name is Erin Logadóttir, but we would do well to leave the forest now before it gets dark, so that you don’t encounter the more dangerous breed of huldres or something worse. I know at least I am heading out", the pyromancer said. Dagur nodded,"Yes, we must head out soon. At last, I did not come in here to get my friend killed, but only to show him the forest and let him get to know the overpowering effect the magic of the plains can have. I have found that Myrkvid is potent in magical energy and can be suffocating at time." Erin nodded at this and then walked over to the corpses of the shamans, Hrjólfur walked over to the scorched warriors and pushed one of the ashen statues, his hand dug through the ash opening small pockets of air that had formed when the flesh had been incinerated releasing the smell of roasted meat, his hand then made contact with the skull of the huldre toppling over the skeleton sending the ash off with the wind. He then entered the two tents that had not burnt down and found some items worth taking with him, most notable a map of the forest probably made by adding together information from scout patrols. There were some markers on the map that Hrjólfur could not understand, for they were not written in the runes used by men, but in a strange written language where the letters most resembled the text in Dagur’s tome. Hrjólfur walked over to Dagur and Erin, and handed the Stormwright the map. Dagur looked at it, nodded and put it into his backpack; then he picked up his cane and braced his backpack over his left shoulder.
As they prepared to make their way towards the city, they asked Erin what she had been doing out there alone, and she told them that she had left the city with two of her friends, but both had fallen to a wolf, as tall as a man with a pelt as white as snow, yet it seemed that it had appeared out of nowhere in the green and lush forest. Jumping the strongest of them first, it took down the warrior in the group, sinking its fangs into the shoulder of the man tearing flesh from his collar bone, finally snapping the bone rendering his arm useless. Then it moved its jaw a few inches and tore the mans throat out spraying its beautiful fur with blood spraying arcs of it all over the clearing as the jugular vein of the barbarian hung out of his throat. Erin had summoned a spear that had only a small iron spike at the end, but it glowed an electric blue and as she threw it at the wolf, the wolf moved out of the way easily – which was an amazing feat considering the wolf's size – and then it bit down on the shaft of the spear making the radiating tip of the weapon lose its blue spark and fall into the mud of the battle field.
The third of her party had been an assassin – a trickster skilled in manipulating shadow and magic; a follower of Loki – the trickster had reached to his belt to grab some sort of a wood and metal contraption and had thrown it in the direction of the wolf, the item had then morphed into a large forked spear which had been striking at the wolf like it was being wielded by a giant; piercing the wolfs sides, legs and back the fork was spinning so fast around the wolf that the animal could not keep up while the weapon had been driving itself into the wolf at an increasing pace drawing the strength and will of this giant beast.
The man-high wolf then gave up on fending of the fork and lunged at the trickster. The trickster was caught off guard, since he had been controlling the fork through magic. The beast ripped apart the tendons in his right arm and as soon as the wolf had struck him the weapon had impaled into the beasts back. Howling the wolf sliced open the mans stomach and tore him to shreds. Erin had been watching hopelessly, as the wolf had been eating her friend, snapping tendons in his neck slowly grating through flesh bone and sinew. She then had gathered her bearings and had used her energy to start a spell. As she had finished the spell, arrows of fire had hurdled at the wolf and as it had looked up it had got struck in one eye, its nose and four times in the side.
The wolf had been feeling a primal urge to just leap at the woman, but had been holding back. He had understood that the woman could have possibly defeated him, since he had already been wounded, bleeding and burning now, since his pelt was on fire from the magical arrows. The wolf had lifted the corpse of the larger man easily with its massive jaw, then had sprinted away into the forest and Erin had gathered the possessions of her friends, the magical trident that belonged to the trickster, the massive hammer that the warrior used and her own belongings and had headed to the boarders of the forest. She had then heard the camping huldres and had decided to kill them all to get her revenge at the forest for sending the wolf at her. She had incinerated half the population of the camp and then they had showed up - that was her story of what had happened today.

[Ævar Hrafn]

Content with her explanation, the men and her headed out of the forest, as soon as she had done a visit to the bush she had come from at the start of the fight to retrieve the great hammer and a few other objects some of which she had told them about and some of which they did not recognize. The three of them had started walking while Erin had told the two men her story of the day; they were making their way over a ridge of stone covered in moss, grass and other vegetation, when a crossbow bolt darted out of the shadows in front of them to the right. The bolt struck Dagurs staff and shattered against the magically hardened wood in his cane. Dagur still got a large splinter from the bolt in his chin rending open a wound on his cheek that was deep enough to be open into his mouth. He fell to the ground in surprise bleeding uncontrollably; he was having trouble breathing since he was choking on blood. Erin walked over to him and laid her hand on the wound, Dagur then fell unconscious from pain as Erin burned the wound shut. Hrjólfur had grabbed his bow and fired an arrow into the bushes the bolt had come from.
Dagur came to half an hour later; they had waited for him to wake up before pressing on to the boarder of the forest. The attacker had not shown himself at all since he had fired the bolt and Dagur had a suspicion that Örn the trickster, who wanted the Sphere of frost that was suspended on the end of his cane and that gave Dagur his control over the element of cold. Dagur put his hand against his cheek where he had been hit; He could feel a large scar over his cheek where it had opened up after the bolt. He leaned forward had a sip of water and they continued on warily. They made it to the City all right and decided to meet up in the tavern after Erin had met up with her compatriots and they had changed out of their battle gear. Erin had turned left when they entered the city but Hrjólfur and Dagur headed right, walking up the hill towards the guild house of the Order of Frost.

[Taedrun]

Great story and nice storytelling. Thanks for sharing!