Greetings Sigurd
This night's orders will be a double-hit on Romanic w/ me and TinCow.
...
Deep in the woods, all Hel has broken loose. A giant was chasing after another, albeit smaller giant, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The larger giant had trouble catching his brethren as his size causes him to collide more often into rocks and trees, w/c came alight on contact. The smaller, lithe giant was clutching in one hand a wailing creature, a human, the object behind the chase.
On the top of a hill was a wide clearing, and there the larger giant, named Surt caught up w/ his fellow giant and tackled him from behind. Both giants tumbled downhill and bowled over everything unfortunate enough to be in their paths. As Surt recovered his footing he heard a loud splash nearby, he looked around and realized that they had reached the lake at the bottom of the hill. Surt howled in such fury that the birds nearby dispersed into the night sky. The smaller giant resurfaced on a rock in the middle of the lake and started to taunt at his fellow, dangling the half-drowned man in front of him.
"Give it back! Ægir! That is mine! You have been hogging all the fun lately!!!!!” roared Surt, as flames burst out of his scalp. He swung his fist and stamped at the ground, causing the ground to tremble. After some time, the smaller giant, named Ægir, finally took pity on his brethren.
“Alright, alright. You can have it,” Ægir said and he began to spin his arm, that is clutching the helpless human.
"Ooooh!!! Oooooooohh!!! Ahahaha!!!"
Surt could not contain his excitement. He uprooted a nearby tree and held one end w/ both hands, like a club. He posed sideways, dug his feet into the ground and gripped his ‘club’ w/ such force that it became alight in flames.
“Heeere it coooomes!” Ægir shouted as he pitched the screaming human straight at his fellow. Surt swung hard and a sickening crunch erupted where burning wood hit damp flesh. The force caused the ‘club’ to split at the point of contact and sent the burning remains of the man hurtling skyward. Surt let out a victorious cry and began to jog around the lake, waving his ‘club’ overhead. Meanwhile, the fireball continued to streak upwards, passing the realm of heaven, before crashing into the dome of the sky. Romanic had become a star...
Word of that night spread among the Norse, and it was used to frighten naughty children to sleep. Centuries later, the story became the basis for a popular past-time game, and the image of a capped Surt holding a bat became the logo of the professional league in Scandinavia...
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If TinCow gets blocked, pls. use the write-up I've written for last night (also on Romanic).
3rd times's the charm?
If I get blocked, TinCow will send his own PM.
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