Date: Þórri 3rd, 598 AD. (Alt: 15th January, 599 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
A Model hour passed until Gorm arrived from expectations, his expression locked in concern over how he saw his friend's daughter's lack of dynamism compared to her usual cheeriness.
"Have you seen them?" Heath asks, knowing that Adal may have moved locations from the (elemental farm) and possibly crossed paths with Valyria trailing behind. A single shake of his head spurned that notion.
"What happened between the time we last met and now, father?" Leif asks Gorm, hoping nothing too dangerous has happened from his continuous training bouts against the golems. "My waning skills are no more." A half-smirk finally broke that expression, and the triplet's eyes shone with relief that they had regained what once was thought lost. *'The sword of the Völsung, has returned.'* They feel it, a momentous tide that would determine the success and the difference between this reality and the one once pictured by Heath.
"How about a spar?" Leif releases the short hilt, being symmetrical from opposite angles, he grasps it comfortably in a unique forward facing manner compared to most forms of sword combat, fist facing forward like a punch, the design-
*SHAAH* -glows with the portal blade's found power, wrapping around the grip itself, leaving a gap in an elongated mesh between a sword and head-axe shape, it was based on the Ulu, an arctic slash-punching weapon. He readies himself by fluidly switching between Filipino Martial Arts, Krav Maga, and Boxing stances in tandem, while maintaining his balance per parts of his feet. "Heath may have taught you much, my son." He prepares his single handle. 'Khaḍga.' The Gupta Period's signature blade from Bhāratagaṇarājya (India) forms.
Its single slabbed form with a single sharpened edge that partially wraps around the expanding tip before meeting a toothed back that would aid with catching blades, it appeared deadly and majestic, soon being pointed straight towards Leif.
"But I have decades of experience more." He twirls the weapon in his hand, the blade coming dangerously close to touching his arm, yet having full confidence with such a trick. Heath warps with them outside into the grass, a good spot for the skill testing between each other. "Rather than using the portals themselves." Heath signals to both swords and silently casts in a new feature using illusionary techniques for a 'false' weapon that works much like a less painful training alternative, appearing indistinguishable from a simple toggle.
"Think of a keyword you wish to set for this skill. I would suggest 'false weapon.'" They do so, but no changes appear. Heath quickly walks up to Gorm and grabs it, showing its glow within his fist while dealing no damage. "Now you have less deadly sparring." Heath simpers.
He lets go. "Make sure to round your edges and hollow your blades to decrease magic-to-weight ratios, otherwise, you can still bash, cut, or stab each other." Heath was met with a tonk by a blade into the back of his tunic-covered chest. "We know, no off with you. Shoo!" Leif does a gesture like swatting away a bird. "*Snort*Alright, have fun~." He warps back to the room with Mǫl now standing up and staring through the false window, looking at the time Heath paid a fee of a few thousand dollars to go on the public Antarctic Circle trip.
"Seen anything you enjoy, Dov chzek?" Heath pats his back, and is met with a stare of curiosity. "That name sounds cool. What does that mean?" Mǫl heard the flowing words that sounded deeply symbolic due to Heath's usual importance in such names.
"It is Hebrew, an ancient language that has largely been maintained in my home realm, the words means 'strong bear.'" Heath pointed to a nearby drifting piece of ice, where a polar bear mother and her cubs are resting. "You reminded me of how great they can truly be." Just as he said that, the mother dove in and brought out a seal upon the ice to disembowel it, they quickly changed to the next landscape so as not to traumatise the young golem. "Your simulations are very realistic, maybe too grisly." Sigrid learnt English too quickly.
Heath rolls his eyes in reaction from the pun, then calls for all of the short and long hilts to him. They warp in front of him, where Heath sets the same magic spell and warps them back with paper note. "Sorry, added a new feature. . ." With a verbal and visual description.
Sigrid grabs the reappearing weapon by her side and sees the note. "Waste of good paper when I am right here." She passes it back. "I heard about origami from Egill. How about you show us some new tricks?" 'Especially with someone here easily entertained.' Was left unsaid. "Ohh yeah!" Being a Richard Hammond wannabe, Heath eyed his surroundings conspiratorially before turning back. "What is wrong?" Sigrid hovered her hand over the hilt, but he raised his hand. "Nothing dangerous, just had an idea to make it look fun."
He raised the paper and made it float in the air. "These are all designs I saw from a part of the internet known as Reddit. But I will animate them to appear truly lifelike. Credit where it is due to them." He starts the folding process, making it appear to jitter and vibrate with a beat.
It began with phoenix, beginning by molding the paper through hundreds of different creases, he began with the torso, he solidified it by making the paper into a hollow spring mesh for integrity through multiple triangular indentations that then lead to the long tail and wings, last leading to the head that burred a single cry of magic through opening its paper beak, now flying around and flapping its wings in a slow, graceful arc around the group. It lasts like that for a Model minute before turning to another shape, refolding itself entirely.[1]
The torso is restructured, appearing now to have four stubby legs and the paper folding like an uncoiled spool to be repositioned for a larger head with great horns, the wings no longer have flaps and are instead largely put into a solid meshwork that solidifies the wings.[2]
The tail flapped as if it was a whip to smoothly transition to a malleable spike, now acting as if dive-bombing into their heads and landing onto their hair before taking off again. Illusions were put into place to make an orange-paper-esque formation to appear as a fiery breath! This was short-lived, however. Soon, the stubs transitioned into proper hooved legs. The tail and horns were shortened but thickened, the head elongated, and it was given greater detail for such a small model. Lastly, the wings turned into those of a sea-horse's fins.
It neighed and purred as it galloped through the air, until finally coming to a stop upon Heath's hand, where it turned into one final form, that of a valkyrie, the horse's front legs turned to arms and hands, the hooves of the back feet were made to shoes, straightening.
It stands proud, a new shield and spear forms to its side, a helmet with winged protrusions form with a great smile and hair below, the torso was stretched and put through toiling until made as a flowing dress with wings out and ready for flight. Raising its spear, it goes straight into the air and fights off misty illusions of fearsome warriors and rampant beasts in the same style as itself. Using tactics learned and styles expected of a spear-woman, she fought valiantly until it ended with a flourishing move that uncreased and flattened the paper.[3]
A vanishing act, simple but effective. 'Did I just turn into Kubo?' Heath reminisced, thinking of the time he watched that movie with his little niece. So many good memories. . . "What were those creatures?" Mǫl wondorously urges, he knew the last, but not the previous 3.
And so Heath explained. "-let us move to something more interesting, like papel picado (Cut Paper Arts from Mexico)!" So they continued for another hour, going through different paper tricks and magical paper arts from the most popular schools of his time, creating connected scenes and brandishing what Sigrid thought was a simple tool into something she could no longer have seen in her dreams. "How much do you truly know? You sometimes feel all-knowing." Sigrid frowns, yet enjoying the animatedly dancing picture cutouts upon the paper.
"I know enough to see I understand NOTHING from absolutely everything." Heath paraphrases a quote from Arthur C. Clarke. "Do not sell yourself short, great scientist God." Alfárn chimes in the background, as most of what they know now was brought by him.
"It is not selling myself short, I see where my flaws are, but I still have issues with self-awareness of when they occur." He stops the paper forming and focuses his attention towards them. "That is why I enjoy friends who can help guide me as I guide them, sycophants and yes-men are what turn stagnancy into toxicity." Heath saw each of them nod. "That is the reason we say you would be a good leader." A male voice comments from the bottom floor as he walks up the stairs. "Egill! You came unexpectedly." Heath waves over.
"Yes, felt the need to for a surprise." Egill stands by the top of the stairs now, looking awkward yet comfortable while resting upon the bannister. "I have bought some news of Valyria, though I have no idea if it is good or not." Egill shows his trust and gives his memory.
Valyria is now absorbing copper, silver and gold at an accelerated rate, now overtaking the magical regeneration throughout the 3 portions of the farm. "Ho- How is that possible?" Heath's eyes ran a slight translucency from the emotional overload before returning to clarity again and WARPING to their location in a hurry. "AADDAALL!" The scream was more of a roar, both flying through and worried for his child who is close to overwhelming herself with an overload. "AAADDDAAALLL!" The psionic blast that was his voice echoed throughout.
Heath finds them, but not in a state Heath expected, the Domovoy was locked in a state of shock, knees upon the ground and eyes glazed over. Valyria continued next to him, both in protection and in continuous work to gain further strength. 'A state like Hœnir's.' He pauses.
After getting closer, Heath utilises his own powers and intent to break this immobility. Adal quickly regains consciousness and stares at him with thanks, as while he could not interact, he could still sense outside of himself. He gets up and stares towards Valyria with disappointment. "You Dollens have a streak in your souls, it seems." He shakes his head. "I stopped her at first, but she learnt mind magics recently and utilised a surprise attack to stop me. She-." He is zipped by an invisible force, a glare from Valyria in view.
". . . Is afraid of losing me, huh?" Heath undoes that magic, expression no longer angered. He walks towards her, no resistance in part due to her knowing she will try to talk to her first. He steps into the air to appear eye level with his incredibly tall daughter and sits upon the air.
"Thank you, Adal. How about you meet my new son?" Heath says in a hidden note to give them a private moment. Adal was going to bow but stopped himself, instead nodding and walking to a nearby portal to teleport. "Kid." He holds onto her shoulder, stabilising both of them against each other with contact. "Your soul has long since reached an oversaturation point." A meaning that was not lost to her, so she began slowing down, first turning away from the furthest away that was gold, and closing in as waves, responsive to her calming.
"His name is Mǫl." That was a surprise to her, now turning her head to greet his face, yet her eyes were near-staring through him to her memories, getting closer to the present now. "Pebble, that needs to be changed." She now has a near imperceptible grin.
"See? Even I thought that too. I was leaning towards Barzillai from Biblical Hebrew, meaning 'iron.' Has a ring to it with his appearance, no?" Sticking to the Hebrew theme, Heath said so. For his next child, he was thinking Armenian, if another male, possibly Yergat 'Iron, very creative.' Valyria looks to him with a squint. "Steel is greater than iron." She pointed to her own name. Stating she wishes equal strength in their names. "Oh fine, how about Shén-Gāng from Mandarin? Means 'Steel that is godly.'" Heath joked, knowing it would not stick.
"Dollen Shén-Gāng, sounds strong, but hard to say." Egill agrees, following proper Chinese surname structuring, though saying that out loud puts a meme into his intrusive thoughts. 'Get out of my head, Don Pollo.' He forces it away through multiple efforts.
'Screw it, I won't choose names from other languages.' "This is a rarer English name, Sterling. Means 'High-Quality.'" Simple, but effective. "That does work better, but I will get permission from the triplets first." Egill looks to the three of them. "Have a nice day to all of you." He leisures through the grass with a thermos from his room in hand, sipping the still-hot drink as if it did not scald him. A willing Auto lifts his hand to hold it for him before he goes outside. 'I wish I could do that when I was still normal.' He never figured out how to get that skill.
Valyria gave a side-hug and a loving kiss to the cheek, they stayed like that for a moment before she let go and now apologised with honesty to Adal. "I am planning to study a way to force permanence upon the transmutations. If you choose to help, that will be enough."
He pulled out a bulletin board hidden within his beard to display the existing data on this matter, not wishing to hold a grudge and hoping to move forward from what he felt was a minor issue. 'At best, I may give her a silly nickname. Snúinbrók (One who wears pants wrong) would be good.' He continues passing off data while thinking of other 'options.' She did not fully understand this information, but once she was in the rhythm of using her magic with little nudges here and there, the experimentation would accelerate.
"Do not get too engrossed~." One final embrace and an arm-crossing later, he walks rather than warping again, into the portal he goes and out to the floor where the teenager is being kept. He sees the two unmoving Autos guarding the door and nods.
The left Auto opens the door, letting him through, and what he saw surprised him. The teen was using the false window with great finesse to his actions. 'Taught well by Egill.' He supposes. The blonde and green-eyed teenager shifts his eyes away and sees the incredibly tall warrior-built man with casual clothing standing there. A smile was tried with a wave, but his teeth were rotten and his hands were crooked, obvious training and hunting accidents that were rare but inevitable at the time. "Great scientist God." He puts down a knee.
Without the teen noticing, Heath's eyes rolled far enough to feel as if they were out of their sockets. "Rise. . . What may be your name?" Calming and certain, unlike Móði's barely restrained frustrations against most mortals. "I am Arnfinnr Álǫfsson. Village tracker."
"Oh? Part of a hunting party when you are so young, you should be very proud of such accomplishments." Heath smiles characteristically again, showing great joy towards Arnfinnr, though he feels the need to heal him, given how he had such a hard time pronouncing his own name with a missing tooth or two. He walks up to the sofa and sits down, then pats to it to signal he can sit. They oblige and look partially respectful, yet mostly fearful. "What is wrong, my goði?" Arnfinnr asks, leaning down and eyes away from him, subservient.
"Lift your head, look towards me." Heath saw him do so, first step complete. "Do you see your scars as a source of pride?" Alfinnr nods to this question, confused but answering honestly. 'Then I will keep them, like Gorm's.' Heath internally adjusts.
"Show your teeth to me in a smile, and raise your hands." He shows the action that Alfinnr should take, which are quickly copied and a flash of understanding dawn into his eyes. "You wish to heal me?" Alfinnr asks, keeping his teeth closed, the air whistly yet childish with glee, he knows this through Egill providing some non-incriminating insights while mythologising Heath's skill. "*Hmm-Hum*Yes." A well-mannered chuckle before a round of magic is launched into him, seeping into every fibre of his being!
The feeling was euphoric, as what happened with Jurfinn at the start of Heath's journey caused a great spike in the development of his teeth's dentin, gums, cementum and enamel. All were restored to prime conditions, and his hands were fixed to normal positions again.
"The teeth will regrow in 5 nights or so. Are your feet also hurt or hard of bending?" Heath asks, which makes Arnfinnr shake his head in disagreement. His feet were still naturally flexible, but had great callouses from so much bare-foot training and walking, his toenails hued greys and greens. "Check yourself upon the reflection." He gets up with the teen to go to the bathroom, showing how his work had helped restore much of their functionality. Heath applauds discreetly, thoughts hidden but jubilant for having another successful procedure.
Which, as we would expect, led to him just staring at his face, gob-smacked. The fixing of his teeth caused it to fit upon his face with great facial synchronicity. He reminded Heath of a younger, slim-jawed Heath Ledger. "Well, you will be popular." Heath patted his back.
The short bangs upon the side of Arfinnr's face fluttered as he looked up and gave a much more confident smile, charming and ebullient. 'What is with most people here being so attractive anyway?' Heath does not voice this out, to not grow Arfinnr's arrogance further with the compliment of who he sees as a higher being. "Great scientist God, thank you." He was about to go to a knee again, but was stopped by an open palm facing upwards to his chin, keeping his head up. "Do not do that now. I wish to have a conversation first."
So they did, about his village and their way of life, how, thanks to Heath, his people are safe, and how his Cavern was so wondrous! He also tried to add a show of emotional loyalty that Heath tried to stop. (The general gist that you would gather from the honest commoners.)
"Seems grovelling is a common tactic they do when saved." Heath murmurs in annoyance. "I should appear as my original form, appear unassuming and nonintimidating. Otherwise, everyone will treat me as the creator I am not." He rubbed his eyes and sighed quietly enough not to be heard. Arfinnr is now in bed, asleep. "Time to go." He phased through the floor, leaving a gift of a slice of cake he asked to be delivered to this room. He shakes his head, not feeling to shrinking himself once more. "To build the eternal phylicatery."
He had spent his magic on creating the divine-imbued pair of grenades and a bunch of bullets beforehand, yet he feels leaving half fueling to be such a waste. He stares at the back of his hand, the heraldic H glowing through in a pattern that feels almost alive.
"To turn the diamond-tiled runes across this entire floor to a single large anachronistic formation, but to what end?" Heath raises his left hand and looks per each cardinal direction. "The facing of such a large rune, straight to the polar north, should I move the tiling to concentrate it upon them, or create a second layer. . ?" Heath sees no telling from the sigil, such questions were thus unnecessary. So, he chose the latter. Now notching up the entirety of the Cavern's floor, he lifts everything to allow for a full material implanting.
2 layers of incredibly thin copper sheeting were embedded to the bedrock, both designed to intertwine, lock and merge once the design is completed. The one above was thinned and pulled into a thick wire that would hill the edge of the sigil to a physical form, finally enacted.
Rather than spending all his magic now, he tries something different, a mana siphon designed as a central blip within the first copper layer. He would tether a part of his soul to drain enough of himself in a slow laminar drip to feed it, yet still allowing him to grow at a slower rate. "In a way, my learning of how to go into others' psyches and to astralwalk has allowed such a miracle, I thank Freyja and King Tiwaz." He will provide half of his regeneration, which, if his intuition is right, should take him a bit less than 3 weeks.
"Daayuum, that's a slow project." Heath snapped quietly in English, now removing small parts of the soil so the indents would be flush and not cause a long yet small indenting bulge that travels across thousands of Model kilometres. Not visually appealing to anyone.
Checking the sky, he sees the moon has long since come up, its partial darkness showing the trend between now and the season from its slight shift at the same time as a few weeks prior. With the addition of certain implanted star blinks in a mannered Morse-like Code by the Nornir, one can see the potential future of the weather for those they have trained (Which was taught by Freyja.) The weather this spring will be cold yet not frosted, and the choring of Wulþuz (Ullr) would be lessened to mean a more bountiful crop harvest on the surface.
Nonapplicable to them as they are underground, sadly, but they may find rarer fruits, vegetables or herbs to then bring back and farm under the blessing of Yngvi (Freyr.) Even if they have a fantastic variety, there could always be more for a growing surface area and population.
"I never thought of it, but should I bribe Gefjon? Being a minor Goddess of agriculture and a major in husbandry, she would wonder about the disappearance of a few livestock souls when I upgrade the goats once twilight comes." He thinks on it. Finally coming to the conclusion that he will meet Mother Jǫrð, for she still has contact with her due to their less strained relationship in the myths. Mentioning her name, a notification appeared in his mind, an acceptance of this new meetup. "That quick? Guess she has time." He smirkedly muses.
He warps into the small holding room, table ready and even two small cups with an unknown blackish-brown liquid inside that is steaming hot. She came just Model seconds after him, her tall form even dwarfing Heath's own, reminding him of his daughter.
"This is the first formal meeting we have had, I thank you, Mother Jǫrð." He puts a hand on his chest and knocks his head down, a show of respect between equals yet of different genders. She repeats the action, her hand palms against her flowing, flowery dress in a soft action, still causing petals to fall off and regrow just as quickly. Those petals that fell off became magical motes that slowly discharged into the air around them. She lifts her head up, her short crown braid cascading her ginger hair with autumn leaves phalanging her ears.
"No, thank you, Heath. For being hospitable to my father and agreeing to our alliance." She kept to a noble etiquette ahead of many from the Æsir pantheon. Her manners and decorum designed for outmaneuverability. "Call me Jǫrð, we are one in the same now."
Her hand traced the table, making the chairs turn back, both sit down at the same time and as a courtesy of safety, Jǫrð drinks from the flash on the table. "It is a unique brew of tea only available in Álfheimr's Ýdalir (Yew fields, owned by the God Wulþuz.) Brewed by his arching hunter ensemble." She drank with a near-hidden expression of bliss, which intrigued Heath enough to try it the same way, it tasted like a low-caffeinated affogato. "This reminds me of a drink from my home realm, a bit of cream on top and it would be perfect."
Heath's glowing review was met with a questioning gaze. "What sort of cream?" Jǫrð asks, only knowing of the cheese creams or cosmetic creams of the time. "It was a soft treat by mixing ice, milk and sugar, flavoured with a rare flower that gives a 'vanilla' flavour." . . .
"Which grows on the other side of the world in a place we called Mexico." He showed a visual map from his memories. "Then covered in a small dousing of a hot drink to soften it." Heath's sharing of its experience and taste made her react with minor salivating, which she kept hidden by keeping her mouth closed behind her drink. "Sounds opulent." Which led to her thinking that he may have come from a rich family back in his home realm. "I see that look, no, we were not rich. Our country had a good economy." He silently chortles.
They finish their teas by now, and the task of communicating a bribe to the minor Goddess is in fruition, their plan was simple and straightforward, she is known to attend large communal farming areas on the surface, hidden from mortal view, so that is where they will meet!
"Let us hope this works." Heath says. "Oh, it will, Heath." She says, squinting behind the empty glass, curling a minor U-shaped smile.
[1] https://www.reddit.com/r/origami/comments/143jxhz/my_most_complex_origamis_so_far/
[2] https://www.reddit.com/r/origami/comments/723et6/an_origami_dragon_i_designed_when_i_was_13_its/
[3] https://www.reddit.com/r/origami/comments/j8m715/valkyrie_designed_and_folded_by_me/