Freya: Hymn of the Battle Maidens

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Freya: Hymn of the Battle Maidens

Postby skuld » Sun Jan 22, 2006 9:44 pm

As originally posted by Diov:

::Odin::
Mind reeling, he fell into a slumber…only to be greeted by the images of death and chaos…
---
He watched the sky begin to grow dark, the clouds gathering the far reaches of his vision.

He knew this day. He had known it his entire existence. It was the end. The moment in which all that he has strived for, all that he had made would be destroyed.

"Loki," he heard his own voice call. "Come and bring to me that which you are so willing to give up. Bring me your life, that you might forfeit it. You will have no chance to reclaim that which you are risking now."

Then he waited there, atop the cliff he had mounted for his battle cry, silently. The sky ever growing darker.

Despite his valiant front, he knew that this would be his final battle. For ages he had reigned over those who were living, those who were dead, and those who were seated highest of all. Now he was faced with his own destruction. He would be subject to the same rules he had concieved for all else…the ability to die became a reality.

He heard the wolves howling. Fenrir and his brothers would not wait long for the chance to have his throat.

He remembered the ages of his rule. He had caused the rise and fall of many leaders, been the patron god of the mighty Vikings, and had never stopped in his quest for widsom.

His followers were restless behind him. He heard their voices beginning to rise against the rebel god Loki. He wanted to turn to them and reassure them of their victory, but even now he knew it would be a hollow promise.

Few would live through this day. Few would be left to take up the mightly rule he would lose.

Do not be afraid, my Love...for from the ashes of death comes a new beginning...so shall the world be reborn after this day...
He heard a whisper tell him. If he had not known the voice he would have said it was merely the wind.

Odin raised his mighty axe. His one eye peered off into the black distance.

He didn't fear death. Nay, all this day meant was that he could fight like never before, having no concern of the outcome. His fate had long ago been decided.

The battle for dominion was about to begin…and all who lived waited in anticipation...
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Postby Nawyn » Mon Jan 23, 2006 7:09 am

She hovered in the sky, circling like a bird of prey, waiting for the outcome of the fight below.

It was odd, Sigrun thought, but the approaching of Ragnarok somehow translated into skirmishes all over Midgard. You would think, she thought, that men would finally stop trying to kill each other, now that they know that all will be destroyed without their help. But this did not seem to be the case. She and her sisters had been kept busy for some time now, picking up the fallen warriors from small, personal fights, and taking them to Valhalla.

I suppose I should be grateful, she reprimanded herself. After all, this does mean that there are more to fight with us.

Sigrun told herself that that hardly mattered, since no amount of slain men could stand between Asgard and its fate. She told herself that she should stop thinking on such a small scale, as though she and all the others did not know what the outcome of the battle would be. She told herself to concentrate on nothing but the men below her, one of whom was staggering, but still trying to hold his own.

Perhaps because she had been born in this lifetime as a mortal, and bred to a mortal's way of thinking, it didn't help.

The man fell, blood pouring from a gash that split his head in two. His opponent came closer, poked his foot into the fallen man's side - and choked as, with the desperation of death, his opponent staggered half-upright and shoved a knife hilt-deep into his chest. Both men toppled, and their blood made the snow look garish.

Sigrun shivered involuntarily. And so it will be at the end, she thought, the death of all, the survival of none.

She picked up the two men and returned through the sky to Asgard.
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Postby skuld » Mon Jan 23, 2006 7:53 am

.. Skuld ..

It’s a funny thing about the Valkyries, maidens screaming through a battle field of war-stricken soldiers, carrying their departing souls to feast and fight in the Halls of Valhalla, when they themselves, have never died. It was something that I had struck her with a strange amount of discomfort, is a “I’m-part-goddess” sort of way.

Every time she made it to this part of the world she remembered her re-birth into the Path of the Lady Freyja. It had been so long ago that the details had begun to fade, though. The clear thoughts that had once surrounded it were now dull and lost with many years piled on top of them. She no longer remembered what it was like to exist without her Black Wings, or how to move without her blood soaked armor on.

“You worry to much, Skuld,” she heard the most familiar voice say to her. Hildegard, Shieldmaiden of the Valkyries, second to Freyja, and her best friend. Being a Valkyrie with another Valkyrie is like being with a part of your soul. It’s necessary to have the interaction, and more often that not it is craved, a flesh calling.

“I know,” she whispered. Hilde understood, even better than all the rest of them. It was Hilde’s words that had ended a time of absolute terror through Skuld’s actions. But that was a time long past and not worth remembering. Not really anyway.

“It’s time for us to be getting back,” Audhild reminded them both.

“Of course,” Hilde answered.

“Right,” Skuld finished.

Their winged steeds turned and led the way, back to Folkvangr, back to the Lady whom all of them owed allegiance.

---

A keen set of eyes watched them, and as they turned to leave Skuld felt the glare of her sisters, Urd and Verdandi, the other two thirds of the Great Norns. Skuld held the secrets to the future, and everyone wanted them, with a battle this big coming, who wouldn’t? But it was their promise to the world not to divulge information that would change the course of events. It was their responsibility to keep the true path of fate on target.

“I know, sisters,” Skuld told them. “The secrets of the future are mine and mine alone. Have no fears.”

“But you ride with the Valkyries when you should be tending your jobs as a Norn, young one,” Urd repeated for the eight hundredth time. “Are we not as important and your little, fragile friends?”

Skuld’s head hung.
That wasn’t it at all.
But Skuld knew when all of them would die. And the Death of a Valkyrie was more than a small ordeal.
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Postby Nawyn » Mon Jan 23, 2006 3:29 pm

::Helgi::

Helgi Hundingsbane, slayer of kings, knocked back another mug of mead and set the mug down on the table before him with a satisfied sigh. Turning to his neighbor, he grinned and asked, "Well, Gunter? Shall we have a little fight tomorrow?"

"A little fight?" scoffed Gunter. "I'll tear you to pieces!"

Helgi winced - Gunter could be counted on to keep his word on promises such as that. "Just don't make the All-Father angry again! Do I have to remind you what happened the last time you tore me to pieces?"

He sat back with a smirk as a cloud passed over Gunter's face at the memory. They were expected to brawl, the denizens of Valhalla - it was what they had been selected for, after all, and fighting each other was excellent training for the war. But sometimes, the warriors got a little too enthusiastic, and when Odin came to restore them all to life, he did not mind giving the sharp side of his tongue to those who had made his job difficult. Helgi and Gunter's last fight had been a fine lesson in why one should not anger Odin.

"All right," Gunter muttered. "I won't tear you to pieces. I'll just decapitate you. All right?"

Relieved, Helgi punched Gunter companionably in the arm. "What makes you think you'll get close enough?" he teased.

It was odd, he thought, reaching across the table for some of that night's delicious beef, that he should talk so nonchalantly about being decapitated. Odd for a mortal, that is. Back before he had died, he knew perfectly well that he would have shoved his sword hilt-deep into anyone who had even insinuated that they would so much as scratch him. But in Valhalla, where the men fought, died, were revived, and feasted well every day, one tended to become somewhat lax about one's military prowess.

Helgi didn't usually think about such things, and it irked him a bit. Sigrun was the one who worried about that. She put it down to having been born mortal. Helgi tended to believe that she over-thought the issue - he always shrugged it off. Perhaps it was the rumor circulating throughout Valhalla that Ragnarok was coming that made him so uncharacteristically contemplative.

He threw off the thought. It did no good to dwell on that sort of thing. It would happen when it happened, and he would put up a good fight, a fine fight, a fight worthy of songs and legends.

In the meantime, he would eat this piece of beef, laugh with his comrades, and wait for Sigrun to get back.
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Postby Nawyn » Mon Jan 23, 2006 3:30 pm

::Sigrun::

As soon as Sigrun had returned to Folkvangr, she went in search of Mistingard.

The Valkyrie was never difficult to find - Mistingard could be counted on to be always in her room. Carrying the two warriors, Sigrun entered, as usual, without knocking.

"Good evening," remarked Mistingard, a slight smile twisting her lips at the sight of her fellow Valkyrie. "You had some success, I gather."

"Some." Sigrun hefted the men so that she could grip them better. "This one is good," she said, nodding to the first man who had fallen, the one who had tricked his opponent. "But the other seemed a bit thick. I wanted your opinion."

Mistingard frowned. "And why is that? You hardly ever need advice."

"Because," said Sigrun, "I do not want to reject this man and give him to Hel for the battle."

The Valkyrie's face cleared, and she nodded. "Then don't," she said simply. "One more man will make no difference to the final outcome, so you had best do what you think right. And I confess, I would feel better if even a stupid man fought on our side, rather than on Loki's."

"As would I," Sigrun admitted.

Still lugging the two dead men, she retreated, leaving Mistingard to her solitude.
Last edited by Nawyn on Mon Jan 23, 2006 9:16 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Postby Nawyn » Mon Jan 23, 2006 3:30 pm

OOC: So, so sorry! I triple-posted without realizing that I'd done it! I don't know if posts can be deleted - if they can, I'll get rid of these as soon as I find out. :blush: I'm sorry!
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Postby freaky_vampire_chick » Tue Jan 24, 2006 11:04 pm

As Sigyn turned to empty the bowl, Loki's skin burned in horrible, firey agony. But in his mind, the ice of the Fimbulwinter cooled his fever, and his mind dwelled on Midgard, where the never ending winter had destroyed the morality of mankind. Constant feuding and conflict foretold the drawing to the end of the near timeless chase through the heavens of Sol and Mani by the wolves, Skoll and Hati. Soon enough, Loki's mind echoed in and out, around and back, soon enough! His own wolf would open his jaws wide, scraping the heavens and the earth...................and they would be FREE! The third cock would crow, raising the dead, calling to Hel. On Vigrid would they gather - to face their fates, with roars of defiance, daring to defy even the norn, knowing what was to come, but willing to battle on, having no choice, but welcoming it anyway.

Sigyn replaced the bowl, easing her husband's pain, searching his face for what she already knew she would see there - his release, his regathering of all his foul offspring and allies about him, his rebirth - only to walk the road to destrcution. Loki looked back at his wife, this goddess whom he had so vilely tricked into marriage, by the murder of her betrothed, and he wondered not, nor cared, what she thought of his pending release and the coming battle. Goddess of Fidelity, Odin had bound her to him for all eternity, until the end, until --Ragnarok.
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Postby elerrina_narloth » Thu Oct 19, 2006 9:43 pm

::Mistingard::

Mistingard sat alone after the leaving of Sigrun. She enjoyed her solitude, relished it even. For a moment she listened to the silence, then rose and went to sit before her mirror. She slowly brushed her long, red hair. Mistingard was not vain, and vanity to not urge to brush her hair so thoroughly and carefully as she did. It was her thinking really, her end was coming, she knew this. It could not really be said that she cared really.
A strange smile came over her ruddy face. There was no joy in it, only a strange resignation, and an unexplainable nonchalance.
"The end. Fighting. Blood. Death. So I have always known it would be! I do not regret it, though many seem to. The end will see me ready for it."
With her words, Mistingard rose and smoothed her now perfect and silky hair. She went out of her room and considered going to watch the battle and perhaps gather fallen, but her mind was only half decided. Slowly she walked the halls, alone with her dark thoughts, and her twisted smile......
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