POV: Heath Dollen.
Date: Mörsugur 7th, 798. (Alt: 20th Dec, 798 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
Within the Völsung Clan, the sound of celebration continues to play out. On one side of the table, a chatter is going on between Gorm and Heath, all others around him in rapt attention.
"-Then, upon my axe made of netherite, I slayed the Dragon in the End dimension. Killing it once and for all! I took its egg made petrified, and kept it as a monument within the other realm." Heath drinks again, even though he cannot feel alcohol, he does not wish to be rude.
The Clan Formaðr hefts upon his moved throne, fully surprised at the feat, credulous it is real. "If her breath could melt even through your netherite, a material that stands within a realm much too similar to Muspelheimr. . ." Egill shivers while imagining on the side. "What happened to your axe if it was by your journey for so long, did not see us as a threat?" One of the guards in the background comments, and others nod slightly. "Because I did not want my allies to think I was a conqueror, I am a scholar at heart, an alchemist, a scientist." Heath aggrandises what was once a game and his own 'pacifism.'
"In addition, how could you have lived alone within that realm for so long?" Gorm asks, with the time frame of (in-game) years in that 'second realm,' no one in this room would have stayed sane. Heath gave signs through his erraticism, which were truly for different reasons.
"I had hoped to myself every day I could have a chance to meet somebody, not like the Villagers who have no tellable language or the piglins who are cautious of all outsiders. I wanted somebody I could have a meaningful time with. To be beyond trading or bartering." Heath's response captures those around him. "And that was a noble goal, let us drink to that." The Clan Formaðr raises his mug with others, all raise theirs, and they do an air clink. "Cheers!" Heath proclaims, there was silence, then all others in unison. "CHEERS!" All slosh it down.
"Why do you choose to wear steel rather than netherite, though? You said it is a better material." The Clan Formaðr asks a different question but with a similar meaning. "Because I had lost it from my new travels to this 3rd Realm, a worthy sacrifice." Heath lies.
"And yet you plan to regain it, my guess is with a new smeltery that is as hot as that dragon's breath." Gorm quips with faux-handing over his head to pretend having a headache. "As I said to Egill, you will get used to it." Heath gave equal measure to the Clan Formaðr with the others. "And where is your experienced son? I wish to meet him! I would say you have raised a fine man by now if not for the long wait." The tall God's bravado made a few chuckles in the background heard, yet Gorm goes silent for a small while, thinking on how to respond, then comments a part of the truth.
"He is past the mountain to the south, preparing himself for an upcoming challenge. There is a recent development where he may get married soon to the Open Hand Jǫtnar Clan Head's daughter!" The Clan Formaðr states, causing others to suddenly hold their breaths as well.
"Let me guess, open combat with the daughter to test if he is worthy? Then a spent time together to see if they are capable of this marriage?" Others are shocked by Heath's accurate guess. "You know their customs?" Gorm asks, wondering how he knew. "The Jǫtnar, or King Glaumar's culture specifically are bound by honour and blood, they see a fight like a marriage between skill and a trade of blows, except his is to both's acceptance of each other." Heath was partially bullshitting. But others accept it.
"I will pray to your son's survival, I know it is a 'spar' but greater injuries can be incurred with their great strength against mennskr (Norse humans.)" This causes the Clan Formaðr to smirk. "No need to pray, I trust my son's capabilities." Gorm's response causes others to cheer at that.
Heath is loud with them in action rather than voice, taking another full stein mug in swigging it down. Even if he cannot get drunk, the flavour that washes down his throat is calming to him. "Ah, 'that hits the spot.'" Heath voices aloud. "What spot?" The Clan Formaðr asks. "It is just a saying, meaning it is perfect for what I need." Heath made Gorm think complicatedly. "I will probably start using that phrase." "Then that is good, all the more for you~! Do not know if it is rude to start, but how are we going to sort the people?" Heath suddenly asks.
"Not rude at all, Heath. We will travel to the entrance to your cave area and then settle down. Will you be pre-making the buildings, or should we make them?" The Clan Formaðr begins quizzing, the tall God getting a bit sheepish because he had no original reason to build them. "Not yet." Heath's embarrassment was seen.
"I am surprised you have not started building yet. How come?" Gorm asks, wondering how he could live in just a cave. Heath exaggerates a bit to make a point. "After clearing out the area, some leftover caves that I had not dug out into the open were left behind. They contained some magical creatures that would be incredibly aggressive, some blóðálfar (Blood elves,) jǫtunn (Giants,) vittror and vættir (Spirit and Wight types.)" Heath embellishes. "Do you need help clearing them out?" The Clan Formaðr asks, hoping to help their new ally. "Thank you for the offer, but I can do it." Heath declares.
"It may take a day and night of straight battle to clear out all of the cave chambers." Heath believes it will be shorter, but it will give him more time. "Call for us if you do need help." Gorm assuages the other's taste for battle.
Heath jovially smiles at that, causing the Clan Formaðr to raise his beard's corners back with equal emotion. While doing this, a new conversation starts. "I have a question. Are your people fine with not being under the sky? Or, I can figure out a way to use runes to 'copy' the sky above the ground to make it seem an open land." Heath asks, "That would be better, our people are not so good in underground spaces, thank you for the thought. I believe we will give you about 50 people as a start." The Clan Formaðr announces with unstinting calculations behind his closed glare.
"And off topic, would you like me to ease you of your ailments and age? I am powerful enough to do that to all of your affected people, for it to be a thanks." Thanks to the feast, Heath gained close to half an extra amount of energy. He is currently close to 7 / 8ths of the way.
Heath's full capable capacity is expanding, though, so it is a bit more than overflowing from his original point. "You can ask the people, as for me. . . I wish to see my son happy during his marriage, so. Please, but leave my scars, they are what have shown my struggles and growth." The Clan Formaðr realised, where Heath nods, fully accepting this outcome. "Do you wish to do it now, or later?" Heath asks the telling question. "Probably after the feast is done, I will hold a hall meeting to gather all the injured, old and sick." Gorm plans ahead of time.
The Clan Formaðr never expected to be healed, and he knows there is no reason to doubt Heath because he has the strength to take on the entire Clan and most definitely win (from the forced perspective via accidental insertion.) So both are in final agreement and the feast continues!
"Continue your unfinished story about raiding that pillager outpost! The one before you went to the Nether." One of the warriors, Himlauf, asks Heath directly. "Right. I took my enchanted diamond-edged sword and swung upon the pillager evoker, it did not expect me to dash beside the magical spikes that it summoned from the ground. I did not swing in time, instead, I chopped off part of its nose! Continuing my attack, I forced them into a corner while it was charging its next attack. Except that this time, when it 'summoned nothing.' I got cocky." Heath's suspense caught many.
"It summoned a vex, a vittra that was converted to crave the taste of blood, even greater than a blóðvittra (Blood spirit). Wielding a cursed dagger made of bone steel, it phased through the floor and stabbed between my armour joint, making me drop my clattering shield." Heath acted the same way, using his magic the scene appear in life.
The audience was raptured about this tale, and one grizzled warrior, Jorhunn suddenly piped up a murmured austering as a form of encouragement. Not knowing it was just Heath scared during the battle that he forgot to prop up the shield ingame, good thing the victor can tell the tales how they want. "Thank you, Jorhunn." Heath says quickly while accepting the near-inaudible compliment, using that small pause to best plan ahead the rest of the story to make it more 'epic.'
"The vex used that as an opportunity to try and stab my neck. Luckily, I had spotted it at that moment and swatted it from the air with my sword, killing it in one blow. This surprised the evoker so much that it gave me time to launch myself. . ." Heath thinks about the next part.
"I dropped my sword and wrenched my working hand wracked as fire to wood upon its neck. And squeezed as hard as I could, snapping it. I took its totem as a trophy and returned my items to my storage space." Heath's gruesome tale would have made others in his old world wonder if he was fine in the head. But the people here enjoyed hearing triumphs, no matter how it played out. "Death to that evoker!" One chanted. "Surprised you got caught in arrogance during that fight, you do not seem the type." Gorm utters wonderingly.
"I had to learn. I used to be quite a different character back in the day." Heath thought to his past, knowing that before his loneliness in real life he used to be a rambunctious, rebellious teen and young adult. He had to mature quite quickly after 'that' situation.
"Any would be. But now, it is close to the end of the day, let us stop the feast and call the people for the meeting. FEAST DISMISSED!" The Clan Formaðr called in a shout, letting all in the Hall hear, many got up at the same time and led themselves out of the Hall. He calls the captain of the warriors and tells them to call upon the people he wants. The guard accepts the order and leaves to deal with the task. "So, how does this healing work. Do you use magic, runes or is it a physical technique?" Gorm asks as a light question. "It is my magic." Heath states.
"And as well, let me help move the table and chairs, that way we can allow for others to sit more comfortably." Heath posits to the Clan Formaðr, to which he agrees. Heath carries the incredibly large tables with food on top to a corner of the Hall, then sets up the chairs in front of them.
"You work quickly." A still-unamed guard gives as banter. "-Yes, I do.-" Heath confidently drawled. Soon, the door is knocked. "You may enter." The Clan Formaðr calls, and people on the other side open the door, Heath sits down beside Gorm and the people fall in line in front of them and stand. "Those of highest risk shall be at the front, every other severity go from first to last." The Clan Formaðr sets them in order as necessary. And now the process can begin. Heath walks towards the first dying man. He appears slightly afraid of Heath's massive height, but Heath crouches.
Now Heath, sitting on his knees is at head height with the old, sickly man. Showing a comforting smile. "What is your name, sir?" Heath's question helps calm him down. "Jurfinn, Dryhten Dollen." Jurfinn states with fear and respect in his smoker's voice, croaking through.
"You may call me Heath if you wish, you are called here under my asking." With Heath providing information. "Why call for us, Heath?" Jurfinn asks, appearing like he gained some strength to ask the question. "Because I have a way to heal you all of your ailments, I cannot bring back the dead yet, but I can help those in front of me. Do you wish to be healed?" Heath asks the main crux of the question. Jurfinn sees to himself, then answers. "Yes, I wish to die a warrior's death. Not one in bed." Jurfinn's answer was more than enough.
From Heath's knowledge, he knows what illnesses to kill, and the processes for old age. Telomeres at the end of chromosomes shorten due to mitosis and external factors, leading to the damage of useful genes and the failure of redundant 'shielding' T-loopings.
He remembers his classes on stem cells and how to help repair neural degeneration, including temporarily inhibiting Gamma-aminobutyric acid and promoting melatonin and serotonin production from the Pineal Gland, while increasing nicotinamide and epigallocatechin gallate to enhance guanosine triphosphate chemical transduction. Meaning they act as if they are in their prime, at ≈ 18-20 winters old. Then, using other compounds similar to VC6TF in function, their cellular rejuvenation has sped up the process from a few years to a few weeks.
His power visually glows, flowing through Jurfinn, who suddenly cries in a mixture of surprise and ecstasy. As if it were the greatest experience he had ever had. After a few minutes, the procedure is done. And Jurfinn looks revitalised. A cellular genesis treatment is born.
Heath's magic sustained the procedure, without it requiring excess amounts of food, it should continue for 3 - 5 days. "Sorry for the unsightly view, Heath. It just felt-" Jurfinn could not find the word. "Beyond happiness? Blissful?" Heath suggests. "-Blissful is a nice word." Jurfinn accepts the new word. Jurfinn already appears as if he is brand new. Severely surprising the people, many ask a question, but they all revolve around *"How did you do that?"* In wonder. "I will teach you all later on." Heath notes as a reasonable response.
Gorm himself is beyond impressed. "I will enjoy it." The Clan Formaðr ganders his emotional high out loud, with dedication in his eyes. "It gets better, he will soon appear as if he is in his prime, at 20 winters old, still with his Hugr (Mind / Personality.)" Heath comments.
This just no longer became surprising to others, as with so many other miracles, one more would not be unexpected. But Gorm understands the implications. "Is this procedure 'stackable,' like the word you used for your potion effects?" The Clan Formaðr conjectured, and Heath gaze widely from him already realising its potential. "Yeah, so if he gets old. This procedure can be repeated! He is essentially immortal now if I provide my magic as necessary." The tall God is truthful, knowing what he is talking about. All the people in the room suddenly look at him with newfound intensity.
Gorm bows, which surprised Heath silly. "Thank you, for what you are doing." The Clan Formaðr's eyes show they are full of regard and cognisance for him, as they can now die in battle as men, rather than stay old and weary. To fulfil their born purpose in this realm, no matter their time spent alive.
". . . I would have thought you were Yngvi (Freyr) in disguise at this point? I would have never guessed." One of the injured boys joke. This startles Heath- "*He hú hu*" -but he chortles, knowing of their lively imagination. It had continued for far too long by now with their many talks, teachings and tricks within the party, leading many to falling asleep at their tables and then carried away by their húsvinr (House friends.) Slowly, all came to an agreement and had left them to their lonesome, Gorm and Heath now having a heart-to-heart.
"-it is hard managing much of my life as my body fails me, but I am doing my best to keep our stories and tales alive." His vision, nearly blind, was clearer than it had ever been, too many questions unfulfilled, now a possible solution to be brought in with the God in front of him.
"Aye, and there is one thing I should tell you." Heath lowered his voice, sad he had lied but hoping to keep the story alive. "The netherite of that other realm? It is not with me here, but there are far more mysterious things at play that I can show you." He forms, guiding his magic onto his face, and in using his knowledge of cataracts and their best way to remove them, they were disintegrated. The cone cells of his eyes, rejuvenated. The Clan Formaðr could see once again. "What. Did you do?" The brows and wrinkles stretch themselves taught, ecstatic.
Heath twists the magic in the air, providing memories and a life once provided, concepts impossible to dream of for this century, all to give Gorm a better understanding. The Clan Formaðr now realised what was at play, and was readying himself mentally under defence mechanisms.
It lastly led to a further build-up of trust, for Heath's soul was always honest, giving his pure ambitions through to him, accidentally overriding the others' own as he will soon spot.