Silence. There was naught to be heard in the dark void Asgeirr found himself in. Before him sat a dog, focusing him with its brown eyes. Asgeirr was unsure of what to do now, it just seemed strange to him, to finally stand before Hroddveig's mongrel, the fabled gift from the dark gods, that told those it found worthy about the future, the present, the past and the will of the gods! "You have finally come.", the seer suddenly broke the silence. "I know, what you seek. You shall not have it easily, Asgeirr, for the God's have plans!" The Canine figure of the seer seemed to grow, a dark air surrounding him, even darker than the darkness that made up the void they were in. Asgeirr could feel his body cool out, his strength dwindling away the longer the seer spoke. Suddenly, his surroundings changed in the blink of an eye. He was struck down by pain. He couldn't see at first, his vision was blurred by tears of pain...and something different. He could feel his skin boiling, his bones shifting, piercing through his flesh, his organs, he coughed blood, fell to his knees, coughed more, his hands touching the...ground?! He froze, blood tripping from his chin, his shoulders, his torn up arms. His hands dug into strange, wet grass. "You're no longer Hroddveig's servant, Asgeirr. Our masters require you to go to the lands of the southern weaklings!" Asgeirr looked up. Where the dog stood before, now was a foul, deep purple mist, with eyes like gleaming coals, the grass below it withering and twisting. "Go now, child, you have a long journey before you..." was the last thing Asgeirr could hear.
Well, this is the next one for you dear readers. I've tried, but I have a feeling this one turned out bad. Might be wrong, lemme know eh?
YOU ARE READING
THE SAGA OF ASGEIRR
Fantasy"Greetings, stranger, come, have a seat and listen. Let me tell you the Saga of Asgeirr, chosen of the gods! A tool of the gods' will, gifted with suffering and hardship, and other things that the gods seldom give. Interested? Come then, let us see...
