As the headless wretch turned into the familiar black liquid that allowed the tree to grow its sixth fruit, a new pair of creatures climbed out of the shadowy smoke patches. ‘Harald watch over me!’ Einar prayed as the seventh round began, the pair of frenzied abominations attacking in unison. They fought hard, leaving plenty of claw marks on the seeker’s armour before going down. The eighth round was worse, but the final one was the worst. Einar was riddled with cuts and small stab wounds where the wretches managed to sink their claws into the unprotected areas.
A large gash was bleeding on his left cheek as he ended the last monstrosity. He spat blood on the ground as he watched the ninth fruit rapidly grow on the tree’s branch above the altar. When it grew to its full size, the branches shuddered and the nine fruits snapped off. They didn’t fall on the ground however as an invisible force made them float above the drinking horn where they formed a circle. One by one the fruits got squashed by the mystical force, their glowing juices flowing into the horn. As the last fruit turned into a dried-out pulp, the drinking horn lit up with a myriad of colours.
An unexplainable thirst took hold of Einar as he shambled over to the altar and picked up the horn. Inside it, a light red liquid churned with a faint golden mist swirling above it. The young seeker raised the horn to his mouth and drank it empty in one go. A soothing warmth flowed through his body as his wounds healed without leaving a single scar behind. Einar felt something change in him as if he was now more than he was in every way possible. It was a strange yet welcome sensation. A clattering sound snapped him out of the comfortable sensation as the dried fruits fell on the altar, crumbling into dust, each leaving a tiny glowing seed behind.
‘Perhaps Helga will want these.’ He thought as he put the seeds into his world eater pouch along with the horn he decided to keep as a trophy of the day’s battle. With the trial now over, the village became eerily quiet. The seeker let out a sigh as he put away the crystal effigy before taking a better look at the surrounding ruins. Despite his best efforts, he only found broken pottery and tools. There was nothing of value left behind, making the village a barren land of death. He shook his head, dismissing his greed as he headed back down the mountain path. By the time he reached the foot of the mountain, the sun was close to vanishing from the sky so Einar decided to make use of the light he still had, bursting into a mad run back towards the village.
The darkness of the night caught up with him a good hour later as he finally stopped to make a small fire beside the path. As the flames brightened the forest around him, the young giant decided to climb up onto the tree near the fire. Although he hoped that the fire would keep any of the bored animals away, he didn’t want to risk being attacked while he entered his inner world. Einar felt like he was drifting in the void for a moment before he opened his eyes, the braziers and the stone altar greeting him. He walked closer, touching the small stone figure that depicted a warrior and bright amber words appeared on the stone slab in front of him.
{Name: Einar Arnessen}
{Title: none}
{Ancestry: dragon/human/giant}
{Age: 18}
{Valour: 240}
{Calling: Seeker}
{Renown: unknown}
{Attributes}
* Charm:13
* Deftness: 17
* Divinity: 2
* Grit: 15
* Heart; 21
* Luck: 11
* Might: 26
* Mind: 14
* Soul: 17
Vigour/Spirit/Fortitude
51/51/45
Looking at his attributes explained why he felt different from before. It seemed that drinking the strange nectar he earned through the trial increased all of his attributes by one, although his deftness had risen by three. ‘Nine fruits for the nine attributes.’ The youth thought as he touched the figurine depicting the book and the sword. As the list of his skills appeared, he found new ones recorded.
{Climbing}
{A warrior must know how to reach his opponents, no matter how high they might be. Every fifth level will increase your fortitude and your vigour by 1. Every tenth rank increases your deftness by 1 and grants a minor perk. Every twenty-fifth rank allows you to choose a specialization.}
{Rank: 9 (beginner)}
{Rank progression: 7/10}
{Fortitude increase: 1}
{Vigour increase: 1}
{Perks:}
{Running}
{A warrior must know when to run and when to stay still. Every fifth level will increase your fortitude by 2 and your vigour by 1. Every tenth rank increases your deftness by 1 and grants a minor perk. Every twenty-fifth rank allows you to choose a specialization.}
{Rank: 16(beginner)}
{Rank progression: 7/20}
{Fortitude increase: 6}
{Deftness increase: 1}
{Vigour increase: 3}
{Perks: firm pace,}
{Sword mastery}
{The path of the sword is narrow and sharp, yet long and gruelling. Wield your blade with skill and determination. Every fifth rank increases the harm you cause with your weapon by 1. Every tenth rank increases your deftness by 1 and grants a minor perk. Every twenty-fifth rank allows you to choose a specialization.}
{Rank: 18 (beginner)}
{Rank progression: 19/20}
{Deftness increase: 1}
{Harm addition: 3}
{Perks: firm grasp}
The three new skills all had their obvious uses, and the additional fortitude and vigour were also noteworthy. Seeing that he wasn’t far from reaching the tenth level of mastery in climbing, Einar decided to later spend some time practicing on the nearby trees. ‘Increasing my deftness seems to bring a lot of benefits.’ He thought as he touched the stone figure depicting a warrior stepping on his fallen enemies. As he did so, three new records appeared on the stone wall, depicting the monsters he had to face that day.
{Bestiary}
{Draugr peasant}
Charm:2-3
Deftness: 6-9
Divinity: 1
Grit: 6-7
Heart; 7-8
Luck: 3-5
Might: 4-7
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Mind: 2-4
Soul: 2-3
{Draugr warrior}
Charm:2-3
Deftness: 7-11
Divinity: 1
Grit: 6-9
Heart; 7-10
Luck: 4-6
Might: 6-12
Mind: 4-5
Soul: 3-4
{Netherworld wretch}
Charm1-2
Deftness: 8-14
Divinity: 3
Grit: 7-11
Heart; 9-14
Luck: 4-6
Might: 9-15
Mind: 5-7
Soul: 6-8
‘They were formidable foes, especially in larger numbers. Although it’s strange that I wouldn’t get any valour after defeating them, but it was likely part of my offering to the Gods overseeing the trial.’ Einar figured as he sat down, ready to leave his inner world, the air shifting for a moment as his sight darkened. The next moment when he opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the tree he climbed up on. Remembering his previous decision, the young giant climbed off, only to climb up onto a different tree.
He repeated the process several times before he felt a slight shiver run along his spine. His grip suddenly felt a bit firmer, his movements more fluid and somewhat faster. ‘I guess that does it.’ The youth hummed to himself as he returned to the small campfire. After eating some of his dwindling food supplies, he put more wood on the fire and lay down to sleep. By the time he woke up again, a faint light could be seen on the edge of the distant horizon. ‘Time to go.’ He thought as he stomped out the remaining embers of the fire.
His camping gear got packed away in a minute and Einar began to run along the path with all of his might. Hours went by with only the sounds of the forest accompanying him with the occasional birds and deer he scared away. The sun was already falling when he reached the entrance of the village, large beads of sweat rolling down his face and beneath his armour. His first goal was to head over to the shrine and talk to Helga.
“Welcome back,” the priestesses greeted him without even turning around. “You have returned sooner than I expected.”
“I was running a lot.”
“Yes,” Helga nodded as she turned around, a slight grimace on her face. “I can smell it.”
“Oh,” Einar stepped back awkwardly as he sniffed himself. “I do stink a bit.”
“I smelled worse. Now come; tell me what happened at the trial.”
The young giant sat down on a stump chair and recalled the ordeals he had to face. Helga listened to his tale while nodding from time to time. When he was done, the priestess let out a relieved sigh.
“I’m glad to hear everything went well. As for those seeds and the horn; give them to me. I know exactly what to do with them.”
Einar reached into his world eater pouch and retrieved the simple horn along with the seeds. The priestesses took them and headed toward the shrine where he gained his bound arms and armour.
“Bring me a handful of camomile, rosemary and thyme!” She called out to one of her helpers in the near distance.
A bit after the priestess and Einar reached the shrine, the young woman brought over the requested herbs.
“These horns have a ceremonial function, but that’s not all they were meant for. Once a God-marked proved themselves, the horns were meant to be offered to the gods the same way one offered their earnings from the ritual of the Gathering.”
As she explained this, the woman placed the horn and a pair of bronze coins onto the middle of the primitive altar, forming a circle around it from the faintly glowing seeds and the herbs her helper brought over. Helga began to pray in the old language, the flames of the brazier heeding her words as they washed over the offered items, devouring them completely. A good minute later the flames receded, revealing a horn that looked a lot different from the one before. It now sported a wide bronze rim on the opened part and a bronze cap at its pointy end. The circle around the top had nine tiny colourful stones embedded into it. Although they were cloudy and unpolished, they still drew in the young giant’s gaze.
“There,” the priestess nodded in approval. “Always carry it with you and take good care of it. In exchange, it will take care of you as well.”
Einar looked at the drinking horn with a puzzled expression, earning a slight chuckle from Helga.
“Don’t be so cautious lad,” she smiled. “The horn was blessed by the gods and now possesses great power. Remember how it fed on those fruits to create the blessed nectar?”
Her question earned a slight nod, prompting her to keep explaining her thoughts.
“There are many similar precious plants and treasures out there. Feed them to the horn and it shall turn them into blessed nectar for you.”
“I see.” Einar nodded as he took the horn, a newfound respect evident in his eyes.
“That’s not all it can do,” the priestess continued. “Feed herbs and the like to it and it will create you a nectar that would heal you, or replenish your strength and spirit. The stones on the horn will glow with different colours depending on what it absorbed.”
“Should I keep a few flasks with me to collect the healing nectar?” The youth asked, but Helga just shook her head.
“The horn will stay empty until you call upon its gifts. It will then fill itself for you to drink. But remember; this treasure is weak like all you were given by the gods. It’s up to you to grow its power.”
“I understand,” Einar nodded. “Thank you, for everything.”
“I only do what is ordained. Now go home. Your parents are surely worried about you and you need to rest. I feel that the ship sent by the king carries news that will bring a great change. We should prepare for what is to come.”
The young giant nodded at the advice before saying goodbye and heading home. The sun already vanished from the sky by the time he got home, but he still found everyone awake.
“Einar!” He heard everyone call out to him as his mother and his younger siblings rushed over to hug him.
“By the Gods,” his mother stepped back near immediately. “You reek of sweat. I'll get some water into the tub for you.”
“She was quite worried in these past days,” his father walked closer, patting him on the shoulder. “Where were you off to, lad?”Einar sat down beside the table, his sister bringing some leftover food for him as he told them the events of the past days, trying to make it sound like an adventure instead of a bloody trial.
“The water is ready,” a soft voice resounded as his mother appeared from the nearby room. “Go wash yourself, then go to bed. You look like you could fall over any moment.”
The young giant headed over to the room where the tub of water was and began to strip off his armour. With his size he could barely sit into the large wooden tub, making it both awkward and difficult to wash down. By the time Einar finished, his younger brother brought over some clean clothes for him and he soon found his way into his room as well. Sleep caught him fast, the night rushing by in what felt like a moment. The sound of the rooster was familiar yet unpleasant as Einar woke up purely out of instinct. He reigned in his wavy hair, tying it at the back with a leather strip and left his room towards the kitchen, finding his parents already there.
“Morning.” He said between yawns.
“Morning, son.” The response came along with a plate that had some smoked fish, some cheese and a slice of bread on it.
“So,” his father spoke up while eating. “What did you plan to do today?”
“I haven’t made any plans yet.”
“Good,” Björn nodded. “Then you can follow mine. Whenever the High King wants to gather God-marked, it always becomes messy. I know you’re a capable fighter, but you’re a God-marked now. Things will be different for you from now on. We’ll spend the morning training. Eat up and let’s go.”
Einar found it better to follow his father’s plans since the man survived five raids with the previous king’s warriors. After finishing his breakfast the youth followed Björn to the edge of the village where they stopped at the side of the river.