To the dawn we ride alone
Face the terror in your soul
To the death of flesh and bone
To the kindred cast in stone
Through a night so cold and long
As the miles take their toll
Ride as one, O vengeful throng
Fly to arms, ten thousand strong
Within the amaranthine darkness, cast asunder for breathless moments by the casual cruelty of the furious skies, two warriors fought for supremacy, their strikes shaking the earth to great trepidation. Yet in the last, the chanced hand of Loki’s malice fell true; a lone blade, forged of some metal in lands unknown to the soldiers of Thor’s pursuit, nevertheless felled the great dvergr, Hvastillitr. The gods shouted their protest; thunder bellowed unceasingly across the land, gaining in terrible power and majesty with each mounting second. Freyja, in whatever distant land she currently walked, fell to her knees in sorrow, without fully knowing why; the god of fertility echoed the rage of the forest, many worlds away, which likewise felt angered at the death of the Elect.
A father’s march with sister’s son
Across the lands of barren sod
Brothers all in battles won
Arise till deeds of tale are done
Leaving hard the mountains fair
Across the land we seldom trod
To spiteful blood and morning rare
Fly to arms, where devils dare
The earth shook, echoed by the trees suddenly thrashing about in agony, joining with the thunder in its majestic cacophony. Animals great and small wailed in consternation, lamenting the passing of one as noble as the dwarf; the very land was alight in impotent rage, trumpeting and railing against itself to pound out a death tattoo for Till. Lightning fell from the heavens in great sheets, striking great furrows in the earth. It intersected the forest, creating a circle of magnificence a thousand feet distant from the body of the dvergr as it fell; the furious beat of earth and sky rose to crescendo, fully engulfed in the sorrow of passing. Finally, with startling quickness, silence prevailed. The frenetic music fell to malevolent quietude, stifled in an instant to mimic the passing from life to death.
Elect of Thor, mighty kin
Curse the blade of foreign steel
Passed in rage of thund’rous din
Kiss of earth ‘round ashen skin
March upon the open earth
Pray for slaughter’s hand to deal
Out from land of solemn birth
Of favored son, bereft and dearth
Atop the branches of the Yggdrasil, Thor sat within his fortress of Bilskirnir, entertaining his brother, Tyr. About him, a multitude of servants completed the work of restoring the halls to their state before the vengeance of Hvastillitr, repairing both the damage done by his sabotage and the lengthy battle between the dwarf and the Lawmaker, whom Thor had summoned to enact his vengeance upon the impudent dvergr. A distant rumbling noise filled the air, growing in intensity for several long seconds before falling abruptly silent; moments later, a winged valkyrie dove from the sky, finding entry through one of the few remaining holes within the ceiling. Prostrating itself before the mighty god, it whispered its tale, a chilling recitation of the recent deeds of those whom Thor had placed upon the pursuit of the Whole Glory.
Vengeance won for fathers slain
A sabotage both fair and bold
‘Cursed,’ said he, ‘let honor wane’
‘Tis fair indeed, in wrath be slain’
For in his crimes, a solemn day
With silent breath let gods behold
Under Lawmaker’s mighty sway
Life in loss, let honor pray
With a mighty roar, Thor rose from his throne; his anger had been kindled as had not happened in many thousands of years. His eyes blazed with palpable fury, alight and wroth, while his brother looked on in smoldering rage, sharing in the emotions of his kin. Thor Jotunslayer, mightiest warrior of the Aesir, awoke to a mind of murder and destruction, furious at both the loss of the warrior and at his failure alike. For three days, he rained lightning down upon the dvergr of the north, caring not that he kindled their wrath against Asgard; his vengeance was served upon the people for the failures of their kin, and his mind was once again at ease.
Fury borne of Thor’s defeat
Fire kindled of molten skies
Kindred fled for halls to meet
Fearing wrath no mind may cheat
So now upon this fateful day
Hear the call of battle cries
For Hvastillitr’s death we gladly slay
Thus we march, so far way
[hr]
Thus he died; Hvastillitr, dvergr of the north, Elect of Thor, brother in arms of Honuse Relaiyent, honored and worthy above all. Such were the songs of his passing, as Thor’s wrath kindled the hearts of the dwarves to battle, though such events would not pass to fruition for many score of days. Deep within the unfettered jungle, the silence of Till’s passing held true for many long moments; even the rain appeared to have ceased. Of such events, Honuse Relaiyent was only aware in the barest sense of understanding. His actions of minutes past had so thoroughly tired the man that he forced himself to undergo a healing trace, focusing his mind inward to replenish the spent energy. Electricity flowed with his blood, igniting it within his muscles, urging them to greater strength as would be needed soon.
His body slowly healed, even as the rain began once more with renewed fury. The oceans could not have been removed to the skies with greater effect than the vigorous downpour that now beset the land. The still reverence for the fallen passed as dreams in the mist, leaving no trace but the bitter anxiety that brooded eternally within the grove where Till died. Feeling sharp awareness return to his mind, the Lawmaker extended his perceptions once more beyond his own withering shelter; it was at this point that he found the still corpse of his companion, lying below the feet of one of the interlopers. With a sadistic reverence, the giant recognized the fate of the dvergr, and bore a moment of mixed quietude and subtle gloating in honor of the event. Yet no such honor would be complete without a second slaying to accompany the warrior to whatever fate lay before him.
Recognizing that the decaying aura about the dwarf had not yet faded, as traces of vitality still lingered in the corpse, Honuse Relaiyent moved swiftly. With a gentle touch of his mind, the abomination located the wellspring of that contemptible energy, and, with minute alterations to the molecular composition of Till’s muscle tissue, formed a potently destructive weapon. Another casual touch held the skin down, igniting the oxygen-rich tissues around the target zone. They exploded inward, compressing the gaseous residue of death; it reacted with volatility, detonating into a cloud of thick grey smoke, resisting the downpour to maintain cohesion in the open air.
The biological fog, acting not as a disease but as an airborne corrosive, reacted to dense concentrations of matter. Affected constructions, whether wood, metal, or flesh, reacted roughly the same; it appeared to age at an advanced rate, to the point of losing years within seconds of exposure. The intense oxygenation of the corrosive self-replicated, turning all hydrogen into oxygen that it contacted, until separation from the initial propellants introduced adaptive mutations that failed to produce the same results. As such, the explosive cloud traveled outwards a dozen feet in every direction from the corpse, though the aging effect would only work for a matter of seconds, resulting in the equivalent of twenty years being effectively added to any targets.
Though his face remained passive behind the petrified wood surrounding it, the Lawmaker truly considered smiling; it was a fitting end for such an ultimately worthless companion. Perhaps Thor would be more apt to recognize Honuse Relaiyent’s self-reliance in the future; though Till would be missed for the service he could have rendered, the abomination could not deny his preference for hunting alone.