Markus 1.1
One thing about the sea, Markus noticed, was that it was rather unpredictable. It was such a common saying, in books, movies, most literature, and even outside of that. He had grown quite sick of it, believing it to be nothing more than a romantic exaggeration. He should’ve known better than to scoff at something with so well-known. Often, there was a good reason for such prevalence.
He couldn’t really be blamed, he told himself. The first two days had been quite uneventful, with calm waters and gentle breezes. It was quite relaxing, honestly. He had gone to beaches, of course, but never spent much time on ships. The one time he had gone on such a trip, he was comfortably lying on a cruise ship. The difference between that and now was enough to go round the Earth; twice over. That was an exaggeration, but you get the point.
‘Calm’ here was relative. The boat was still jumping up and down the seas, but it was tolerable. He would know what a true voyage was like soon enough. But before then, the obstacles were very basic, like learning how to walk. Or how to not get blown off his feet by the odd strong gale. Or how to eat without puking his stomach out. He was truly blessed to not have motion sickness; otherwise, it would have been very fun. Not for him, but for his shipmates.
Walking on deck, even while everything was calm, was hard. While there weren’t any particularly strong waves, that didn’t mean the sea was friendly. He wobbled and tripped. Having to adapt to an entirely different body didn’t help, either. In real life, he was only fit and relatively tall. Bjarni was a giant. Nearly 2 meters high, with massive limbs and disgustingly large muscles. His appearance wasn’t anything to brag about, sadly enough. Dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a whole lot of body hair. He preferred his old body. Hopefully, the other guys had to deal with this too.
He really wouldn’t believe this body was only 18 if he hadn’t experienced it for himself. And there were very… interesting experiences, too.
He shuddered thinking about it.
There were no specialized razors. Instead, he had to make do with knives if he wanted to trim. He hesitated at first, but decided to press on knowing that this was not his real body. So, he cut some stuff off, mainly the chest hair. The beard and long hair he kept, to keep with the culture. He did clean them up and trim them, though. Nearly cut himself in the process. Thankfully, some guys offered their help. He really shouldn’t have attempted such things while he couldn’t even stand properly.
Thankfully, he had a whole two days to adapt. That really shouldn’t have been enough, but, for all his misgivings, this new body was strong, dexterous, and used to physical activity. Not the sea; this guy should have been a newbie too. At least that was a saving grace, the others didn’t look at him too weirdly. They still laughed whenever he fell, though. The bastards.
His other misgiving with his identity was fortunately addressed before it was too late. Bjarni was a horrible name, at least to him. It wasn’t difficult to pronounce; the language abilities were in the package. However, its meaning was complete shit. Seriously, his parents named him Bear. Not that bears weren’t good, but they were nothing more than common beasts. If his parents were going for an animal-based name, they should at least have the decency to name him something enviable. Any magical beast would’ve been better than a bear. And the fact that the name was as common as cabbages did not help, either.
He wasn’t bothered by something so trivial, of course. Not that bothered, anyway. However, if he could do something about it, he would. So, knowing that he had only arrived and no one knew him (as planned by the devs), he changed his name fast. He told everyone about it, shouted if he had to, repeated it if he had to. He had wondered if he would be beaten up and thrown off board, but they accepted it easily. The name raised quite a few eyebrows, but they didn’t think much of it. Most simply found it funny. Even funnier when some realized he was afraid they’d beat him up.
At least, he made an impression. Whether it had been a good impression or not… eh.
Seafaring was also something he had to learn; the ropes, the navigation, the swimming, stuff like that. It took some effort, but it was interesting enough. He was still on the basics, and there was still so much more to learn.
Honestly, the ship was very welcoming. There were around 40 people, including him. They helped him with most things and showed him all that was needed to know. Of course, all of that was spiced with laughter and teasing, but he liked it that way.
Fortunately, he was a new recruit, so he wasn’t laughed at too much; they had other things to do. Things like: fishing (the fish was the size of two normal humans combined, and the line was rushing through wild currents), playing cards (who introduced cards to them??) or drinking (they drank a lot, and he meant A FUCK TON). They did everything jovially, though they were a rough bunch. Fistfights were a common occurrence, none too serious, but blood had to be mopped constantly. And who else would be the janitor but the new blood: Markus and another young man.
The captain and his second-in-command were interesting. The latter was even more of a giant than Markus. The man, named Adalward, seemed friendly and good-natured enough. He was also very helpful, giving Markus lessons on the basics. The first lesson: do not be scammed. He went for a few rounds of card games with the man. Not even an hour later, he lost almost all of his money. The older man gave him half his money back, saying: “I’m a generous man. I’m imparting to you my infinite wisdom. This is a small price to pay.” After that, he went away, laughing with his new sack of gold.
To be fair, he didn’t have that much money and was told by other crewmates that he’d make it back soon enough. The vice-captain liked to “welcome” new blood with that move. A dick move, he seethed.
The former was a lot different though. The captain was a woman. That was rather shocking, to say the least. He hadn’t expected any females on board and especially had not thought that the captain would be a woman. Not that he had anything against women, but he didn’t think Vikings, and the Norse in general would accept this sort of thing. There were eight other women on the boat, so perhaps it was just natural. Perhaps it was the developers who changed things to make things interesting, or perhaps this was what the culture had truly been like. It might just be this particular ship. He would know in due time, no need to fuss.
Either way, everyone feared and respected her. Her prowess lay in sea-faring and in magic, more specifically, weather magic, which was one of the rarer forms of magic. It was even more fearsome in the sea. And useful, too. She could control the winds, and as such could direct the ship. Not that she had done so since he came onboard, but from the words of the crew, it was a tool in their arsenal.
Captain Alvilda was not sociable by any means, and others were more than fine with that. Markus believed they consider Adalward more of a captain. But from what he’d seen, she was okay with that. Her relationship with her vice was also quite good. That’s what he believed, but Markus had never been good with things like this. So, who knows; they might secretly despise one another. That was highly unlikely; one of them would be dead already if that was the case. Most likely the guy who scammed him.
Anyway, what alarmed him was the way the captain looked at him. Markus didn’t know what kind of emotion those grey eyes carried, but it made him uncomfortable.
One important thing was that his status as a demigod wasn’t known. Markus had considered revealing it, before deciding against it. He didn’t know enough to make that decision.
Also, the prospect of having people worship the ground he stood on was not too enticing.
Well, that was a lie. It would be nice, but only for the first few days. It would likely get too tedious afterwards.
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It was midday when disaster struck. At the time, he was enjoying his lunch. It was a small meal since lunch wasn’t considered too important. It included some roasted fish and some mead. He finished them slowly. Mead was new, and while he tried it expecting it to be unpleasant, he had grown fond of the taste. It shouldn’t be good, should be disgusting, even, but for some reason, he was just drawn to it. The drink was available whenever; it replaced water. Thus, even if he did not like it, he had to.
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Just as he was finishing the last drops, Adalward roared, his gaze hard as steel. “Storm’s coming. Get ready.”
Before he could marvel at how different the normally genial man looked, he was dragged away by Rafn. This man was his unofficial guide-slash-mentor-slash-guard. He was a man too mellow for his own good, a flask of alcohol always ready by his side. Whatever it was that he had been drinking, he kept it solely to himself. And it never seemed to run out; the man was always seen drinking. His rosy cheeks were just a part of him, by now. Along with his plump frame, he looked exactly like a stereotypical jolly drunkard.
He was 62, Markus was told. At that age, most Vikings had retired and settled down in their homeland, full of riches from their travels. That was if they had survived. This man, however, enjoyed life at sea. When asked, Rafn simply said he liked it. Looking at his always red face, he was inclined to believe him.
Markus didn’t have much time to ponder over such matters, as things didn’t look so bright. It was also his first time seeing the Vikings visibly worried. Even the drunkards like Rafn were concerned about the incoming disaster, which was saying something.
As he stared into the distance, he noticed a vast sea of dark grey clouds coming. In a matter of seconds, sunlight disappeared. Thunder roared as lightning flashed through the air. The rain was bucketing down at the sea, while the gale smashed against the ship and its poor sailors. They had removed the sails, but it that wasn’t the only problem. The waves rocked the ship to a tipping point, with the sailors on deck doing their best to save themselves.
Markus had never believed in gods, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to receive divine judgement. This couldn’t be natural, or it might just be, considering the world he was currently living in. He knew a violent storm was coming. All of them had known that. But even then, they were smashed by the tempests and blinded by the white streaks of lightning. Markus himself was clinging onto a rope, while his left arm gripped the mast. Beside him, Rafn fared no better, though the man was visibly calmer. His fat kept flinging around, which would’ve been hilarious if Markus wasn’t literally dying.
Markus shouted; his voice was barely audible in the storm. “What do we do!? What the fuck do we do!?”
Shouting back, Rafn replied. “NOTHING. We wait.”
“Where’s the captain’s MAGIC?!”
“If she can’t, then-”
A torrent of rain smashed onto his body, nearly throwing the man off the deck. Markus winced at the sight before he himself became the victim of the downpour. As things calmed down for a brief moment, Rafn spat out a mouthful of blood. “Later, Markus, LATER!”
The storm raged on for minutes on end. He was covered with wounds, from flying debris, from the cutting wind, from the water smashing against his flesh. The latter was especially painful; the salt made him seethe in pain.
At that point, Markus believed he would die, along with everyone on board. ‘A disappointing end to a brief adventure.’ That was what he would’ve thought if he wasn’t the one experiencing it. Being in a storm this severe was already intense as it was. He didn’t need any more excitement, thank you very much.
As he pondered over his nearing death, time seemed to stop. In a split second, all the dark clouds, the high winds and the mighty waves disappeared. The seas were calm again, the skies a startling blue. The shining sun shed light on the soaked soldiers.
He’d have calmed down and relaxed if it wasn’t for the looming ships that surrounded them.
It was a fleet of dark grey ships, each brimming with sailors. The boats were ginormous, each as large, if not larger than their own vessel. And their ship was definitely among one of the largest ships out here on the open seas. Few ships had four floors.
Their enemies were all tall, slim, with a dark sense of beauty. They had a certain gloominess around them; a creepy aura that covered their entire fleet. Their sheer numbers sent a chill down Markus’ spine. That was discounting the unnatural light and glow that each one of them emitted.
“Who are they?”
Rafn revealed a grim look. “No idea. They don’t seem to have good intentions, so be ready.”
At that moment, Adalward shouted: “STATE YOUR INTENTIONS!”
On hearing that, all of those men roared with laughter, a steep contrast to their gloomy appearances. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so ominous. As they slowly stopped laughing, one said. “Isn’t obvious? You trespass our waters, you pay the price for it. It’s very simple, really. Do you pirates not know logic? Or have all your brains dissolved from all the drinking?”
The entire crew tensed up. They were all strong individuals (Markus’ strength was debatable-but he was the oddity), but they knew a difficult, if not hopeless, battle when they see one. With how vastly outnumbered they were, they didn’t stand a chance. Not after being worn down and battered in the storm; some of them were barely conscious. Not when they understood that the earlier storm could likely be replicated. They readied their blades and their axes, fixed their helmets and stood tall. Death was nearing them, but at least, Valhalla would welcome them. And if they were to enter the Halls of Heroes, then they’d rather be there looking as suave and confident as possible.
“There’s no need to spill blood, is there? I have a much better solution. Why don’t you give me all your valuables-your silver and gold, your armour and equipment? I’ll leave you with your rations, so you won’t die. Don’t you want to keep your life? Life is more precious than a few coins, isn’t it?”
Hearing this, Markus felt relieved. Could they actually survive this tribulation? This was an unexpected chance.
Just as he thought that a voice spoke up. “Actually, we’re fine. Just come at us.”
Markus stared at Alvilda who just came out. “Captain….?”
Noticing her serious look, Markus decided to see what she was up to, as did most of the crew. She calmly continued. “Earlier, I foresaw a storm. I knew of its relative size and intensity, which was why I was not concerned. To say I was surprised when I saw the magnitude of this disaster, would be an understatement. Something was wrong. Someone must’ve tampered with it. So, as I dissipated the storm, I checked the surrounding areas. I know how many of you are here. Or aren’t here, to be exact. To be honest though, I know enough to spot the difference between an illusion and the real thing. And your tricks are getting old.”
As she said so, he waved his hands and their entire fleet disappeared. All but one. On board, the leader said nothing. His darkened expression spoke volumes of what he was feeling, though.
The creepy glow that covered their people had ceased to exist. They were still a bunch of dark, brooding, unnaturally tall men- no, humanoids. However, they did not seem nearly as intimidating. They would most likely still easily slaughter him, given the chance. He shouldn’t get too complacent. Even if the others survived, he had a feeling he himself wouldn’t.
Huh, I can actually see that far away. I have very good eyesight. Note to self: check if this body has other surprises.
“You got me. You got me good.” The gloomy leader said. As he continued, he sneered. “However, you are but a single mage. Do you honestly think you stand a chance against my three?”
“Actually, I do. There’s a difference in quality, you know.”
Their leader had a predatory grin. “Really? Let us see, then. Let us see if you can maintain your arrogance. Let us see if you surface dwellers have what it takes.”
“No. There’s no need. As you’ve said, there’s no need to spill blood.”
“Are you reconsidering my offer then?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a tad disappointed since my blood is boiling after all that big talk. Maybe I’m not as generous as before, you know. I can reconsider my decision if you come with me, though.” His lecherous smile aroused the roars of their side.
“No. I won’t give you my supplies and my treasures. I can give you this though.” Alvilda held out a small token. “Feel free to inspect it.”
“Toss it over.” The man’s tone was not pleasant, his excitement visibly evaporating. She threw it in the air and the wind brought it to the other ship. After a moment of silence, Markus heard a long sigh. Then the leader grunted. “You’re my brother’s friend, so we won’t do anything. Of course, pay up first.”
Expecting this, Alvilda once again had the wind do her bidding. This time, she sent a chest to them. “2 silvers a person. Or has the toll gone up?”
“No, it hasn’t.” He gestured toward one of his men, “Check it,” before turning back at the Vikings. He said, begrudgingly. “Anyways, my brother should be at home. If you two want to catch up or whatever, then come.”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
Adalward lightly chuckled. “If you want to go, then say it. I and the crew have no complaints. And it’s not an everyday thing to see the home of these people.”
“Hm… I suppose. ‘Kay, I’ve made up my mind. We’ll go.”
He then said to their leader. “We won’t stay long. Don’t worry. Oh, and are you Drastion or Marlenos?”
“Drastion. He told you about us?”
“Just a passing mention. We didn’t have that much time.”
The man shrugged: “Putting that aside, we’ll have to go now. Come with us. We’ll lead the way.”
Now much calmer, the crew went to work. They put down the sails, and with a wave of her hands, the winds were on their side again.
As the two ships sailed side by side, Markus could look at these weird people more carefully. He wondered aloud to Rafn. “You know who they are?”
The man shrugged, chugged his flask, and then pointed at Adalward with one hand and knocked on Markus’ forehead with the other.
“Ah yeah.”
Markus did what the man suggested and asked the vice-captain the same question. The big man replied. “They should be the Finfolk. A race of sorcerers and shapeshifters. They aren’t too well known, but these waters are controlled by them. Currently, we are heading for their ancestral home, Finfolkaheem. If you’re wondering why I didn’t realize it sooner, their magic messes with one’s senses. And one’s mind, too. Alvilda knows them personally, while I just have second-hand knowledge.”
“Huh.”
Adalward smiled. “Huh indeed. Anyway, it’s quite normal for us to go to places no humans venture to and meet races that exist only in legends and myths. Just try to stay calm when the time comes, okay? Once you get used to it, you can’t escape this life.”
Markus nodded. His mind was still processing what had happened. An obscure race of sea men sounded quite interesting.
Either way, he found himself grinning at the prospect of a good little adventure. At the end of the day, that was what he had signed up for: a good time.