Morbolfr sat in the truck, his skin prickling from the fire. The punches and kicks were much easier to ignore than the burning sensation. While he was fire-resistant his nerves were screaming bloody murder.
He rammed the truck through the still-closed garage door. There was no time. He gritted his teeth leaving his precious twin axe behind with that heathen stung even worse than the fire did. He saw Beorg stand outside. He pulled the big truck onto the road driving it toward the worker line blocking the firetrucks.
Honking his horn the lines of workers finally cleared the way for the firetrucks and of course. He rushed away from the scene. The police had yet to arrive on the scene, which was why he made it to the freeway without getting stopped.
From his lips broke a folklore tune in a whistle. While they had just lost one of the collective factories that all clans used for distribution and collection, Morbolfr had saved the most valuable haul. He couldn’t believe that of all things the vault truck was the one not burned to ash. A stroke of luck in this shitshow of a week.
Morbolfr pulled off the freeway to his family's ancestral brewery. The feasting hall would be packed tonight. There were heroes to be celebrated and a war to be announced. Word had gotten out earlier in the day that there would be bloodshed in Pliada City and every clan was on the way as fast as their feet carried.
Nobody wanted to be late or not there. Any man worth his name wanted to turn up for his clan’s honor. Morbolfr couldn’t wait for the Ting Beorg and Marduk had organized.
The entire complex was a fortress, and Morbolfr had made sure that the last thing the maniac would think about tonight was getting in their business again.
There was a war coming and he wouldn’t miss it. His heart was pumping, as he pulled the truck into the security of the parking lot. Men running along with him. Swarming toward the truck in droves from the hall, the tents on the festivity meadow.
Readying himself to not spoil the mood by being his usual frosty self, he took a deep breath, and then he pushed the door open and held his remaining axe over his head.
Standing up high still on the driver’s block he roared out for all to hear far and wide with a mad grin and an excited expression on his face. “WE MADE HIM RUN FER HIS LEYF, THAT GIT! I BLED HIM, LIKE THE WHIMP HE IS! HE RAN LIKE THE COWARD WE KNEW HIM TO BE!”
The reception Morbolfr Krone received was nothing short of fanatical. His people laughed. Nothing was better than bravado and news of a running foe.
“What say you? Am I, Morbolfr, welcome in the Ting? Won’t you have me in your midst?”
The men roared their assent. Morbolfr felt an excited high. There was nothing like the love of one’s people.
He jumped down into the middle of the wild mixture of families, and then from inside the crowd someone shouted. “Not without new pants, ya not!”
Laughter from all sides.
“Yeah, ya come in here like a hero only one cord away from swinging your knob in the wind!”
That one cracked even Morbolfr up. A big man barged through the crowd. “What a son I have! He never calls, and he never writes. My boy is too busy being a man now, winning all the glory for himself. I didn’t raise you to not share, did I?” Next thing he knew he was in a bear hug from his father.
“Come on then, doesn’t one of you ruffians have a spare pair of pants for the man of the hour?!” His father shouted far and wide.
And from out of the gathered men flew a pair of pants. Morbolfr grinned and started pulling down his pants right on the spot to the played protest of the gathered man. He was not ashamed of what he had.
“Oh no, a baby carrot.” Someone shouted pretending to turn away in shock.
“It’s quite cold today, isn’t it?” Another cackled.
“Oh no! He may have bled that prick, but the horror, he took half of Morbolfr’s best piece! Wait till we get him, we’ll avenge ya!”
That one got the crowd howling. Morbolfr didn’t mind the banter on the Ting, and he shot back. “Now your wife won’t complain that I’m too big for her anymore.”
The ice was completely broken, and once he had holstered his pecker they ushered him toward the Ting. Morbolfr grinned and mused, ‘They did well hiding that monster from the eyes of their daughters. The sight alone would ruin them for any other man.’ Though some things one shouldn’t say even during banter.
They entered the big mead hall full of men and women of all families. The way he walked in made him stand out. His Swaddy brothers truly honored him, even his father walking a step behind him. He had just fought a battle for all, not just one family.
People turned toward the big group streaming into the hall. The entrance Morbolfr had was fit for a War Master or a Clanhead. Honoring a man like that didn’t happen often. He could see women strain their necks. Some young husbands weren’t too happy he would get some invitation to enter the ring to satisfy their need to prove themselves worthy of their lover's hand. Morbolfr foresaw many challenges. He saw some biting their lip, and how could they not? It was only a slight overstatement to call his body fit for a god. He worked on his physique just as much as he worked on sharpening his mind. It was not a surprise that the serum worked on him so much more efficiently than on any other man who just lifted big weights and nothing else. His body was a weapon just as much as his brain, and Morbolfr wore and used both with glee.
The group dispersed after he reached the middle of the hall and touched the wooden pole carved with runes from each family. As he touched the pole the crowd that had walked him in dispersed toward their respective long table sections.
“Come, Morbolfr. We have saved just the right seat for you.” His father put his arm around him. Morbolfr was his father’s pride and joy. A man couldn’t ask for a better son, and his father didn’t shy away from showing Morbolfr how he felt about him even now that he was in his late thirties. When he was by his father’s side he felt like the eighteen-year-old lad on his first Ting all over again. Morbolfr smiled, some things shouldn’t change. No matter his decor and standing in the clan he was his father’s boy even while he was the big man to anybody else.
They walked along the long table. Further and further up. His fellow clansmen nodded at him and greeted him. Morbolfr’s status in his family had skyrocketed over the years, and he now sat up in the front. Finally, at the side of his grandmother. At the head of the table. To his right sat his father and opposite of him sat his mother.
The place in front of him should have been the place of his wife, but that had remained empty for years. Most members of the clans were very understanding and didn’t approach the subject, yet even the empty chair stung.
Beorg entered together with the men from the factory. At least the ones not in the hospital. Morbolfr got up. His family looked for a moment like they wanted to stop him or say something but his grandmother stopped them. Walking back to the middle of the hall, Morbolfr linked up with Beorg.
“Mor, so glad you could make it for my arrival,” Beorg said as he touched the pole. “Saw the truck outside. I’m so glad you thought of it and were able to get that out in one piece.”
Morbolfr nodded. “You know me, I wouldn’t miss your arrival, Beorg.”
Beorg measured him. “Walk with me.”
Morbolfr walked beside him, just a bit behind the man out of deference.
“I heard there were other people with powers in the plant. Is that true?” Beorg said while they walked down the central hallway toward the stage.
“Yes, there were three. Only got the measure of two of them. The man who is going around massacring our people was dangerous. Powerful explosions, never seen anything like it. Then there was what I think was a Carthargian. I think that one came there to steal the very truck I took. Didn’t work with the first one, but protected him still.”
Beorg frowned. “You think they have that kind of muscle, now?”
“I mean they came back and are pushing on our businesses and hitting our routes. Who else?” Morbolfr added.
Beorg nodded. “Just as well, not like they are going to be troubling us after tonight. You did great in there, Mor. Never doubted you for a second.” Beorg pulled out an injector with a purple fluid in it. “Here, wouldn’t want you to wait too long with the neutralization. Oh, and Mor?” The man with the blue tattoos added before they split for their respective tables. “I would be honored if you could give the official speech. I think the Ting would want that.”
The Ting wouldn’t start properly until later in the evening first came the social events. Morbolfr inserted the injector on the way back to the table.
He felt the change in energy suddenly. Exhaustion as his metabolism powered down and Morbolfr’s muscles felt the shift from strong like twenty men to mere mortal again.
The festivities started and the food couldn’t be served fast enough for Morbolfr. His appetite after the injection came with a vengeance.
The fighters from today's battle, those who could make it here, flexed their muscles, showed off their injuries, and told the story of the fight. Each in their way embellishes and retells their part in the events of the events in question. Morbolfr laughed. By the end of the evening, the story will be about how they have fought there against all odds prevailing against overwhelming numbers. It was just the way his people told stories. Everyone here knew that they had fought a three-meter-tall troll that caused explosions whenever he sneezed. Morbolfr’s wolfish grin was showing as he started to devour his third roasted chicken.
Different families entertained at their tables or showed off a performance on the main stage. Korga’s daughter was running this Ting’s kitchen at Beorg’s and Marduk’s request and Morbolfr was glad they had insisted on it. He was running through plates as if they were not continuously refilled.
Mead was yet to be served. Traditionally they were not allowed to drink before the Thing officially started. Morbolfr didn’t mind as his only concern at this very moment was the next plate. He snatched a backed potato from his father’s reserve plate without any shame or remorse. His mother scolded him playfully the other men laughed his father played the aggrieved victim.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
This continued until an old man with blue tattoos, the Thain of Beorg’s clan, took the stage and bellowed, “Friends, Friends. It is getting late already, and you all had time to treat your wounds and reconnect with your clans, so now I would like to get the main event started.” All around the hall mugs were hitting tables and feet began stumping their approval.
“I see that we think as one! I knew the thirst for mead would make you more reasonable.” Laughter filled the hall. “But I can’t say that I’m the right man to open up this Ting tonight.”
Morbolfr had used the time to clean his hand and mouth with a towel, as he knew he would be called up to the stage. But he remained in his seat for now, filling his mug halfway with water.
“Morbolfr Krone, where are ya? Ya scoundrel, stop hyding beneyth ya mommy's dress, will ya? Come out, come up here and open the Ting, ya milk-drinking, short-bearded, little girl.”
Morbolfr got up and his father beamed with honest happiness for him. Then his clan’s long table exploded in cheers. Morbolfr raised his mug to his clan and the head of his family. His grandmother gave him a dignified approving nod.
He walked up to the stage and the man who had called him out raised his arms high. This was his moment. A victory in spirit for his people. Honor that other clans could only dream of garnering from the Bear Clan.
Morbolfr embraced the man that had called him up there to honor him. Head of the Bear’s old but still strong as his clan's totem animal. He was nothing like his son. Not as regal and elegant. No, this man was built like a mountain. nearly two meters tall and broad shoulders still swollen with muscles. Medals in the flesh, ink always refreshed, telling of his mighty works. He did all for his clan and all other clans.
The man waved up a young boy with a stand and a microphone. Morbolfr had memories of watching young Beorg carry a similar stand on this stage. He had watched it from afar all the end from his clan’s table. That was then. His eyes looked into the mighty and packed hall. This was now. “You honor me, Barnard.”
“Nay, ya get exactly what ya deserve, boy. I remember when ya was just a wee lad Beorg and you came so far. Just look at yaself. Makes me all sentimental. Get this over with, lad. I’m thirsty, ya hear.”
Morbolfr grinned and then he was alone on the stage. The musicians stood visibly stacked behind the curtains to the side. All were waiting and listening for him.
“You,” He began his speech turning to the silent room. “The man, driving the loads. The lad takes care of his family’s responsibilities while his father toils tirelessly for the clans. You! Who you run without rest and complaint from one burning fire to the next. The man who defends his family’s members against foes hellbent on taking what's OURS. The good man coming out to help the boys picked on by a state that doesn’t understand honor or actual community.”
The hall supported each of his sentences with a stomp of their feet, and a clunk of their mugs on their tables.
“The mothers and fathers give us the will when we feel tired. You, the strength in the arm of the family. You honor me.”
Morbolfr paused looking at his family’s table.
“I wish I could bring you fine people news of a grand victory, but sadly the danger to your sons is not over. We tried to get rid of one enemy before we chased out the rats scurrying into our pantry, but the Gods of War saw not fit to give us his skull today.”
He gestured through the room.
“The Carthaginians think they can come here and steal from YOU.”
*THUMP*
“They set themselves up in this city, OUR home. Thinking they can take what we conquered with barely any effort. You didn’t chase them to the sea. Because YOU are reasonable people.”
*THUMP*
“Well, tonight I ask you to be unreasonable. After tonight, they will never set foot in your house again! We go out TONIGHT.”
*THUMP*
“Let’s tell them: Come out, Come out and face you like men!”
*THUMP THUMP*
“Aye, tonight let the streets run red with blood. We root them out. They will learn having a business here not under our protection is most unwise. Reckless even!”
*THUMP*
“You know where they hide. We were too accommodating. Tonight they send an enforcer to our doors to fight by the maniac side. Thinking they would crush you! But I was there! I saw him and I’m NOT impressed! Are you?”
A resounding, “NO!” roared through the hall.
“Nay!” Morbolfr agreed after the hall was silent again. “Ta that I drink.”
Morbolfr raised his mug, and then slowly turned it spilling the water on the floor. “But not with this, I’m not!”
Laughter rang out. “Bring out the Viking's Blood! Bring out the MEAD! WE are oh so thirsty!”
Then the young maidens of the clans came out with the mead carafes and one came up to the stage. The beauty was roughly twenty-two and had just received her first tattoos on her temples. Blue flower crest spreading beautifully toward the corners of her eyes. Morbolfr felt something he hadn’t felt in a while. A desire he had thought dead. He let her fill his cup with cherry mead. The Viking’s Blood. Whichever drink was called for first was the one the speaker would receive. It felt like fate that he had chosen the cherry mead.
He locked eyes with the woman. ‘Oh, the weakness of the flesh. Gods give me strength!’ He felt his heart throb when she gave him a shy smile, and without realizing it for a moment his old warm heart-melting smile softened his wolfish grin. The young woman looked away as her cheeks flushed red, and Morbolfr had never felt younger in the last six years than in this moment.
Tearing his gaze from the red-haired beauty and her big blue eyes took effort.
Looking back into the hall he felt like something in him had changed. As though he had just come out of a deep dark fey forest after a long time. A whole new man. Reborn.
He raised his mug. Stretching his neck watching as a wave of raising mugs answered his call. When the last young lads at the end of the table raise their mugs as well his eyes sought out the heads of each of the clan tables.
One by one they too raised their mugs. “Then drink ya fill, lads and lassies! Tonight may our foes tremble in fear! We’re coming for ‘em and they’ll die the cowards they are!” And with that, he emptied his mug in one go.
“Aaaah! That tastes like-” The rest of his words drown in the hall erupting in a unison choir.
“NOT ENOUGH! BRING ME ANOTHER!” Morbolfr and the entire hall threw down their mugs to the ground.
“Aye, that makes it officially a Ting,” Morbolfr put the microphone back in its stand, and the same maiden that filled his mug before came to bring him a new mug.
“Thanks, beautiful. Why don’t you come over and I introduce you to my family. They’ll eat you right up, what say you…” Morbolfr trailed off the sentence waiting for her to tell him her name.
“Freya” The girl introduced herself, her cheeks flushing even more.
“Indeed, that sounds like the truth. I feel in love already.” Morbolfr said, picking her up and putting her on his shoulder in a seated position with just one arm. She was light as a feather to him. “Come then.”
As Morbolfr carried off lovely Freya, the musician stormed the stage, ready to properly kick off the festivities. Only for a few hours would they gather in this merry way, and afterward they would go to war.
The music began to twirl a Swaddy tune that was as old as their people’s proud history.
Women pulled their husbands to dance around the central pole. Maidens choose a dance partner or are asked to dance themself. Morbolfr returned to his table as his grandmother got up. Seeing him bring over a woman made her eyes light up, and not just hers, but his mother’s and father’s eyes too.
They looked so hopeful and Morbolfr wondered why he had denied them, and himself, this happiness for so long. A small sting of sadness snuck into his heart when he looked at the empty chair opposite him. But then Freya, now sitting in his lap pulled him softly by his nose so that he look at her once again.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Morbolfr?” She said and his heart swelled with love and warmth.
The music got louder and his family and clan at the table couldn’t get enough of lovely Freya. His mother particularly looked about ready to get them married right on the spot. While Morbolfr was glad Freya was liked by his family he got the sneaking suspicion that his grandmother and mother conspired with the Bear Clan, at least the mother of Freya, to get them to meet.
Morbolfr would have hated the thought up until the moment he had looked into Freya’s eyes. He felt his soul breathe in her arms.
The singers on the stage took a short break and were immediately served food and mead. There was just no festivity if the entertainment gave up halfway through the evening. So to supply them with a deserved breather the fire spitters, sword swallowers, and jugglers took the stage again.
Two hours into the festivities the head of the clan returned and their marching order came down the chain of command. Morbolfr wouldn’t partake in the next steps of the events.
He had done his duty for the evening. Usually, he would have gone with the other men anyway, but as his hand gently caressed Freya’s cheek today he felt like he had earned himself a break.
An hour later, Beorg’s voice tore him out of his contemplation and admiration of lovely Freya. “Well, well I couldn’t help but notice that the mood is a bit down right now. Where is Winnie’s boy? Where are ya? Stop hiding behind your grandmother and get up here. Today’s the day you’ll show ‘em what you got. I’ve been waiting a long time for this one, let me tell ya.”
Everybody's head turned toward Marduk’s table. His son got up with confidence. Morbolfr could tell from the frown on his father’s forehead that something was happening that he had not been informed about beforehand.
The mood changed throughout the entire hall. People held their breath. This could become a very difficult situation. Beorg carried on undeterred.
“When Gunnar approached me months ago I was skeptical, but he wouldn’t just let things go. He was persistent. Wherever I went he would already be there trying to talk to me.” Beorg began his trademarked yarn spinning. “I, of course, avoided him trying not to go over my good friend's head. By the way, love ya, Winnie, don’t be mad about this.” He waves his hand dismissively like he is just remembering he was in the middle of telling a story. “Anyways, so wherever I went he was already waiting. Sitting in the hedges. Hiding in the cushions of my favorite spot in the lounge. There was no shaking this man. I became paranoid about it. So, eventually, I go up to him and say: ‘Ya know I’m flattered and all that, but I don’t think we’d work out…I don’t swing that way….ya know ya being a redhead just isn’t doing it for me.’ ” Beorg paused for a second almost breaking character. Morbolfr could see the man was fighting the urge to not show that he was on the verge of laughing. And some in the hall chuckled and laughed with him sensing that this wouldn’t be some untoward scheme. “And he said to me: ‘Well, ya ain’t much to look at either, but that’s not why I’m trying to speak with ya.’ The poor lad was so serious, apologized to me even. But the matter was important. So anyways that’s how I found out my eldest daughter had a boyfriend, Winnie, can you believe that?“
Morbolfr look over at the table and saw that Marduk could not believe what he was hearing.
“Yeah, and I said to him Gunnar, Gunnar I said, that can’t be right. My bright star doesn’t have a boyfriend. He agrees with me completely, of course. So, that is how I learned that tonight’s the night of the really big question.” Beorg ended his tale as Gunnar finally reached the main stage, and he threw the microphone at him in an easy-to-catch way.
Gunnar caught it gracefully, and behind him the musicians got ready. “This song I sing for you, Rosel.”
Morbolfr’s mouth had fallen open. He wasn’t often speechless, but that had completely blindsided him. A huge smile formed on his face. He looked back to Marduk’s table where the father sat stunned, lost for words, flabbergasted even. Morbolfr laughed, that never happened before.
The boy had talent in buckets too. The song went great with the love theme.
Freya got up from his lap for the first time in hours pulling him by his hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Morbolfr could dance, but he had to be dragged to the dancefloor nonetheless. He enjoyed it, once they started dancing.
By the end of the song Morbolfr held Freya in a close hug, her blonde-haired head resting on his shoulder.
Gunnar made quite the show of the song and got back up from the stage floor and said, “So, Rosel, will you marry me?”
The entire hall turned its head toward the woman he asked for her hand. She sat in the chair in the chair beet red. Poor Rosel hadn’t seen it coming.
It was shaping up to be the best Ting in a long while.
_________________________________________________________
*2 am Pliada City*
Konno Namon’s phone began to ring just around 1 am. He is already awake because he had been expecting trouble and spent the last week preparing for it. He called in more men, stocked up on machine guns and even hand grenades, and even hired some of the Triades from the West Coast and had them flown in.
Their business in the south had made them more wealthy than the clans knew and once their effort was channeled after leaving Akasha Ulundi and Pliada City their business improved. This time they were ready for war.
Or so he thought, as he picked up the phone to another location under attack.
The clans were out for blood and their war was no longer hidden attacks. His people were racing through the streets hitting them left and right while being under fire themselves.
Both sides were taking horrible losses. He was expecting a call from the clan heads after the first exchanges of fire and hits to organize a negotiation.
When that didn’t happen he began organizing his troops for a long night of all-out war. Waking his men from their sleep and coordinating meet-ups and regroupings. Evacuating merchandise and resources to safer locations. He went on the defensive and while bloody they were holding out.
After tonight, there would be no doubt that his boys were here to stay. The Swaddies would run in their head against his nests and this time their little trick, whatever it was that gave some of them the strength of powered men, wouldn’t help them.
He had given some higher caliber anti-tank weapons to every nest. Courtesy of some corrupt national guard munitions warehouse.
His enemies were in for a night of bloodshed, and Konno was too.
“Any word on the trucks on the south side?” he said when finally picking up the phone.
“One got hit. The driver got out and escaped to another route and jumped on a different truck. Was the decoy truck too, great plan, boss.” His man on South End informed him. “It won’t be long till they reach here. More boys are gathering here by the minute. We’re loading the big guns.”
Konno sighed. “Need any more man you just call. I got some reserves I can send over if nothing crazy happens.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Any movement from the PD so far?”
Konno scoffed. “Always conveniently a step behind or just barely on the edges, you know how they are. Don’t hold back on their account. This is about your survival. It’s self-defense, after all.”
The man on the other end laughed. “It is, isn’t it? Alright, I’ll leave you to it, boss.”
“See you in the morning, Clip,” Konno said and hung up. He lit a cigar and sat back down waiting. Outside of his office, his men were busy loading and checking their guns. He had hired some proper veterans, and they were anxious to be let off the leash. The connections they came along with were also a nice addition and served him well over the years. Tonight, they would earn their pay sevenfold.
He holstered the pistol on his table. Standing up from his desk, he opened a hidden stash, pulled out two hand grenades, and secured them on his shoulder holster. Stepping to the window above the low streets of the city, Konno took a deep drag from his cigar and puffed a ring at the window. Watching as the smoke collided with the glass without passing through.
“And just like that, you can’t reach me.” He said watching from his highrise window as smoke and fire spread through the city. Fire trucks barrel from one place to the next, and police rush everywhere like they were actually stopping anything or even had a clue of what just kicked off in their city.
He saw bands of the Swaddies roam the streets. No doubt taunting and chasing down any man they could get their hands on. He pitied those uninvolved about to get under bats and chains. The poor souls that were found by stray bullets not meant for them were a sad reality of rough seas. There would be losses tonight, on both sides. They may have the numbers and sometimes powers, but Konno had an arsenal that would have everyone scratch their head in confusion and shock come morning.
“So let it be war,” Konno sneered at the window.