Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Viking Raider
Planetoid
- Joined
- Mar 10, 2010
A crack tore open the skies over Norse lands, the green field instantly turned black as the sun seemed to dissolve in a fiery blackness. The people of this land, a small viking clan that prowled the coast, watched in fear and fascination as the sky tore itself apart as if some monstrous beast was trying to claw itself through. The clouds burst into blood-red fire and the for the scared mortals on the ground it seemed as though Ragnarok had truly come at last.
Unfortunately for them, it was something much worse.
"KRATOS!" The Greek god Zues bellowed from atop his chariot, all his might being used to cast out the God of War Kratos. For all his might Kratos found himself being ripped apart, his actions finally pushing Zues to this end. Not death, but banishment. The Greek Gods had found Kratos and his crimes to heavy for their lands to bear and have decreed for him to be cast out, far from land of his birth and indeed the birth of any Spartan. The lands of the Norse, a land under the rule of different Gods that those of Mount Olympus dared not trifle with for fear that the ensuing war would unmake all of existence. It was their, they believed, Kratos would surely meet his end.
The God of War fell from the heavens, a blazing comet that lit everything around as it cut the air. Kratos showed no fear as he got one last look at the god of Olympus, only boiling rage, as the rip in the sky folded back in of itself and Kratos crashed into the ground.
The land shook as the impact tore through the ground creating a huge crater in its wake. The Norsemen watched and waited from a safe distance, waiting for the smoke to clear before approaching. The proud warriors had no fear, only caution as they approached the smoldering hole. Their leader took the first look over the side, casting his gaze down towards the center were a human-shaped figure could be seen climbing out.
The men readied their weapons as a large, pale hand rose from the crater and dug into the earth. Lifting him up Kratos got to his feet, twin blades already drawn ready to cleave something in two. His expression was at once calm and boiling over with raw fury, an interesting combination for the vikings.
"Where am I?" The God of War spoke, his tongue strange and unheard of in these lands.
The viking clan leader stepped forward, sword drawn. He was the largest and most fiercest of his clan, never once defeated in battle and a body composed of pure muscle. His armored body sported the scars of many battles, none of which had been enough to kill him or even hamper his ability to kill. "Drop your weapons stranger, least I cut of your hands and take them from you myself! I am...!"
Almost faster than could be perceived Kratos stretched out his arm sliced the man lengthwise, the chain drawing the blood-coated sword back to his hand. He looked to the other so-called warriors with an unimpressed glance, quickly growing annoyed with the lot of them. "I said," he repeated. "Where am I?"
The Vikings almost fled at the sight of their leader killed so easily. This stranger was clearly in a league far greater than their own. That was until the bravest, or perhaps the stupidest, raised his mace and charged Kratos with the intent to kill. All it took was this one act to bring down their entire clan upon him.
Kratos merely gritted his teeth, annoyed at having to deal with such flies. What happened next was hardly a battle and more akin to a slaughter. His chain blades tore through the mens bodies like air, body parts flying raining a shower of blood over the land. Not a single hit was landed on the god of war through the entire exchange, and in the end he had barely moved more than a few feet while circle of gore outlined the area around him, armor, weapons, and guts all laid out in yet another gruesome fight. At least this new land was starting out on familiar territory.
Unfortunately for them, it was something much worse.
"KRATOS!" The Greek god Zues bellowed from atop his chariot, all his might being used to cast out the God of War Kratos. For all his might Kratos found himself being ripped apart, his actions finally pushing Zues to this end. Not death, but banishment. The Greek Gods had found Kratos and his crimes to heavy for their lands to bear and have decreed for him to be cast out, far from land of his birth and indeed the birth of any Spartan. The lands of the Norse, a land under the rule of different Gods that those of Mount Olympus dared not trifle with for fear that the ensuing war would unmake all of existence. It was their, they believed, Kratos would surely meet his end.
The God of War fell from the heavens, a blazing comet that lit everything around as it cut the air. Kratos showed no fear as he got one last look at the god of Olympus, only boiling rage, as the rip in the sky folded back in of itself and Kratos crashed into the ground.
The land shook as the impact tore through the ground creating a huge crater in its wake. The Norsemen watched and waited from a safe distance, waiting for the smoke to clear before approaching. The proud warriors had no fear, only caution as they approached the smoldering hole. Their leader took the first look over the side, casting his gaze down towards the center were a human-shaped figure could be seen climbing out.
The men readied their weapons as a large, pale hand rose from the crater and dug into the earth. Lifting him up Kratos got to his feet, twin blades already drawn ready to cleave something in two. His expression was at once calm and boiling over with raw fury, an interesting combination for the vikings.
"Where am I?" The God of War spoke, his tongue strange and unheard of in these lands.
The viking clan leader stepped forward, sword drawn. He was the largest and most fiercest of his clan, never once defeated in battle and a body composed of pure muscle. His armored body sported the scars of many battles, none of which had been enough to kill him or even hamper his ability to kill. "Drop your weapons stranger, least I cut of your hands and take them from you myself! I am...!"
Almost faster than could be perceived Kratos stretched out his arm sliced the man lengthwise, the chain drawing the blood-coated sword back to his hand. He looked to the other so-called warriors with an unimpressed glance, quickly growing annoyed with the lot of them. "I said," he repeated. "Where am I?"
The Vikings almost fled at the sight of their leader killed so easily. This stranger was clearly in a league far greater than their own. That was until the bravest, or perhaps the stupidest, raised his mace and charged Kratos with the intent to kill. All it took was this one act to bring down their entire clan upon him.
Kratos merely gritted his teeth, annoyed at having to deal with such flies. What happened next was hardly a battle and more akin to a slaughter. His chain blades tore through the mens bodies like air, body parts flying raining a shower of blood over the land. Not a single hit was landed on the god of war through the entire exchange, and in the end he had barely moved more than a few feet while circle of gore outlined the area around him, armor, weapons, and guts all laid out in yet another gruesome fight. At least this new land was starting out on familiar territory.
