Röverik Capeło Raltonstön and Fenrir

      I am peacefully crafting a sword for my young boy who has recently become a soldier. When a I hear a knock on my door. The vibration from the knock is so powerful it shakes me out of my seat. I walk over to the door scared. Before I am able open the door it slams wide open, cracking wide open. In the doorway stands a broad soldier man almost seven feet tall. I do not confront him about the damage he has just done to my home for I am to scared. He says quietly but sternly “come with me immediately.” I comply without much hesitation. He points me towards a carriage that is laced with gold, a carriage for a noblemen.

       When I get into the carriage it sets off with speed of a thousand horses. The broad shouldered man is sitting next to me breathing heavily. Across is a man dressed in a paper white tunic, golden shoulder plates, and a silver crown. The crown shimmers with sparkly jewels and precisely engineered engraving of old Norse that I can barely read. He starts to speak to me in a mix of Latin and Icelandic. I express confusion and he tells the broad shouldered man what I think means translate. The broad shouldered man reaches into a bag across from him and pulls out a golden fish shaped item that he fits into my ear. It burns at first then turns room temperature. The nobleman says something and it is perfectly translated into my native language.

       He tells me, “You are called upon by the gods.” I am shocked by the statement and am almost in disbelief. Me, a simple craftsman living in a small unknown town in south Germany

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