ON DRUIDISM | Thor's Death Trial

[Werew0lf 24181]

 

 

 

To my teacher,   I write to you this missive in regards to the ancient and sacred ritual you wish for me to commence in. I have befriended the beast that I saw in my dreams. But it is a beast nonetheless, for each night, it attempts to gnaw at my hand. From this, I have understood that we are not friends in entirety, but simply, co-existing. I had a dream, and it was pre nominated to me as voices:   ᚤᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᚨᛚᛚ ᛁᚾ ᛒᚨᛏᛏᛚᛖ. ᛞᛖᚨᛏᚺ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚲᛟᛗᛖ ᚢᚾᛏᛟ ᚤᛟᚢ, ᛏᚺᛟᚱ, ᛋᛟᚾ ᛟᚠ ᛗᚨᚾ. ᚺᛟᚹᛖᚡᛖᚱ, ᛁᚾ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚠᚨᚲᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚨᛞᚡᛖᚱᛋᛁᛏᚤ, ᚤᛟᚢ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚠᛁᚾᛞ ᚷᚱᛖᚨᛏ ᛈᛖᚨᚲᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛈᚱᛟᛋᛈᛖᚱᛁᛏᚤ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᚾᚨᛏᚢᚱᛖ ᚹᛁᛚᛚ ᚲᛚᚨᛁᛗ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛟᚾᚲᛖ ᚨᚷᚨᛁᚾ.   The pelt that wretches your flesh, it will become a part of you. You will become it, and it will become you. In the end, all shall return to normality, to its singular point: to animals.    Please understand this wisdom for me.

 

[This is a roleplay post written from the perspective of Thor. All roleplay is from in-game in relation to my shapeshifting trials. No metagaming!]
 

Thor had scoured his days amongst, his soul hauling him in the direction of an unforeseen forest, north to the encampment of Solgaard. Without any further wait, and remembering his teachers words about a “long and unforgiving journey away from society”, he had packed all essentials to last him for numerous days: a stone spear, a short-bow, a fishing rod, and a rucksack filled by the necessities to survive a long and arduous expedition. In truth, the vikingr knew that in the days to come, he would have to abandon these fundamental tools and equipment to survive, so that he could live as one would, akin to a beast, or animal, and tether his spirit and soul into nature itself. “Konan, I will return in no time. Please do not wait for me, broedr,” was the scarce rudimentary note that he left his battle-brother and fellow druid comrade. Of course, it was normal amongst the norn to leave without farewell, and to return without greeting. Usually, Konan understood that Thor, a free-willed warrior, would not remain enclosed within one location forevermore. 

 

As he went through a thicket of trees and roots, brandles and bushes, he eventually came across a length of tracks. It was a spillage of blood, by the clomps of a deer, and the claws of a beast. Thor knelt down before the track, using his two fingers to peel against the dribble of ichor left behind by whatever manner of creature had made this hunt. With further inspection, he brought his blood-stained index-finger upright towards his stubby nose, and gave it a quick drag. It was fresh.

 

His soul churned at the idea of his ongoing trial, and he understood, perchance, that this was the beast he was looking for. Thor continued into a thicket of trees, the canopies drawing shadows along a mystery of snow and sparkling frost-lakes. The first few seconds of his journey were filled with concern, and by the next few hours, Thor was invigorated with passion, and a desire to find his spirit animal: the grizzly bear. However, night started to sour its face on the horizon, and so, Thor decided to set up camp. Zaelyn had spoken words to him previously, “to live like a beast”, and so, he decided to opt for barbarism. 

 

Using twines of logs left scattered in their unhindered fall, and large stakes of leaves from high branch snow-trees, he started to cave together a very minimalistic, yet survivable camp. With his elbow, Thor dragged away piles and mounds of snow, throwing them off and away from his make-shift encampment, which seemed more akin to an animal’s den. Although the viking knew he would require heat, he opted to disallow this for himself, for it would attract unknown perils, and he also knew, the bear could not use fire of its own, so he would not. 

 

 

The viking nestled his scalp against a large rock, using leaves and twigs to attempt in cushioning the tuft of hair, flowing locks that were unkempt and deprived of his usual bear-hide, which he left in his homestead within Solgaard, to rest. Thor found this extremely difficult, filled by cold, discomfort from his makeshift encampment, and the lack of company that he would once find amongst his brethren. Eventually, the solvikingr was able to fall asleep, his night filled by dreams of frolicking as a wild-man, and nightmares of his comrades death. Sporadically, every hour or so, Thor was jolted awake by a sudden gust of cold wind, gelid and depriving his flesh of warmth. His ears were perked constantly by the sound of crunching twigs, and other wildlife that made forth in natures husk, and he could do nothing but attempt to rest, for if he did not rest, he would be unable to continue his long and arduous journey. 

 

As time went back and fro in this endless battle of waking and sleeping, Thor decided to continue his journey. Using his burly arms to snap away at his collection of twigs and leaves, whilst shoulder-bashing the large trunk off its hinges, nature had returned to normal. The viking’s stomach gargled, violently, in hunger. One hand clenched at his bow, but then the viking realised: he did not need a bow. Discarding the survival tool, the druid continued onwards, with only his primitive stone spear, and a fishing rod. 

 

The long and arduous trek into an endless forest became frustrating. He continued to follow the tracks, before they started as stretches of corpse-bloods from hunted prey, to claw marks, plastering trunks and trees. As he continued onwards, stomach roaring in pain, the viking came across a large, unfrozen lake. Thor rushed towards the water, kneeling nearest its bank, and used both hands to grasp a handful of water to drink. It was freezing, and it burned at his throat, causing his brain to spike and rip in agony. Yet, he was thirsty, and so he continued to slurp away at the endless supply of water, even with its sour taste. 

 

Within the lakestead, Thor could see numerous mountain minnows and goldfish, lurking beneath its depths. The water was shallow enough, and so the viking opted to try with his hands. He stepped into the lakestead, and knelt, using both of his palms to prepare in catching his fish. The viking had previously removed his thick furs and tuft, discarding them to the side across an unfrozen lodge of stone, so as to not cause his attire to get murked with water.

Snap, his palms snatched down towards a fish, but with ease, it slithered past. It was fine, Thor thought, this was only the first of many fishes he would attempt to catch. Once again, the viking readied himself, fingers twitching in frostbite. Another attempt, and then another, but each time, the fish slid out from his grasp akin to a serpent, unveiled and flaunting itself, mocking his failures. For once, Thor screamed out in pure frustration and rage, causing his angered blares to resonate across the forest canopies, forcing birds to flock out from their nests. 

 

The viking inhaled sharply, and then, remembered the words of his teacher, Zaelyn, again. “Live like a beast, isolated,” he thought. His eyes clenched shut, and Thor delved into the past vision he had to discover his spirit-animal. He recalled venturing through a thicket of snow, into a vast cavern of winding stones and varying paths, before he came across the large hound of a grizzly bear, its snout beady and wide, staring towards him with a hard-fixed concentration.

 

Thor opened his eyes, and followed the minnow fish. It was a silent appraisal, watching as its fins trekked the waters, and he did nothing. He kept staring, at first, for a few seconds, and then, for minutes. As the minutes went by, the viking’s six-sense kicked in, and his palm stretched down, snapping at one of the fishes. He grasped it in his hand, and heaved it out and away from the lake, watching it flop around frizzled and hardened grass. Thor felt some sort of primal joy, as though he had just accomplished something grand, although, it really wasn’t. 

 

The viking rushed out from the lake, his feet left by small blue blemishes. Thor prepared the fish against a slab of stone, using the edge of a sharpened rock he had discovered nearby to cut it open, and stuff it with pillows of grass. He understood that he did not have the luxury of heating, and although the idea of infection and disease was foreign to the viking outside of basic sickness, he devoured it anyway, raw. Each time he swallowed, the viking gagged, but he did not let anything slip out of his mouth, and he would not waste this feast, gifted to him by the Norn Gods!

 

As the viking ate, blood spilled against the snow, coating it in its crimson. And once the viking was full, he slumped back against his coat furs, using one hand to gently rub at his belly in delight. The viking used this opportunity to quickly doze off, fulfilled by his temporary meal. 

 

 

W A K E . . . U P

 

Thor screamed loudly as he leapt upright from his position. His eyes looked around frantically at the forest, one hand grasping at his stone-spear. Beads of sweat, albeit in this cold climate, started to trickle out from his forehead. What was that? This is exactly what he contemplated, but then, he realised that this temporary fishing victory was nothing, for he had a much harder task waiting for him. 

 

In an instance, the viking stripped himself of his fishing rod, casting it into the lake. Each time the viking made a halt, for some reason, he relinquished one of his survival equipment, most likely so that he could adapt. Each time he completed a task without its use, he would throw it to the side. With one hand wrangled around his stone spear, and wearing his thick furs, the viking continued onwards.

 

Deeper into the woods he continued, and in the horizon, he could see a vast expanse of snowy mountain sides staring their beautiful gaze towards him. Thor wandered into a depth of dark forestry, and he could see elk, and deer, and wolves, and foxes, and hares. Squirrels bounced around the leaves, swaddling across bark with their small pincer-esque claws. 

 

Eventually, the footnote of marks had ended. Thor saw that a trail of blood had met its end. For some reason, although this breadth of hunting-grounds could be for any foe, his soul spoke otherwise, and he knew that the beast which he waited for lay ahead. Using his elbow to move apart twines of leaves and snow-festered twigs away from his path, hacking and destroying them languidly, the viking saw it.

 

It was the carcass of a reindeer, its antlers removed from shedding, but its body gutted open. Blood trickled out into the snow, violently, as something sat on top, its maw hung low, and its canines jabbing into flesh. It held a thick layer of brown fur, its tail small and beady, its eyes large and hungry, with a snout that could collapse against Thor’s head with ease. Its claws were large, enough to press down against the reindeer’s whole chest cavity. The viking did not approach, and only observed from a distance.

 

As the bear feasted, Thor decided to strip away his mortal clothes, mainly his furred jumper, and left himself only in his trousers, loin, and his boots. Soon enough, the vikingr, be it stupidity or otherwise, approached the bear who feasted on its prey. 

 

It only took a few seconds, and as Thor approached the dead zone, the grizzly-bear instantly shot up, and stared out towards the viking. Clearly, it was prepared to protect its food, and offered a gnarly sound that could cause the fear of any Man, or beast, in its proximity. With its hind leg shifted upright, and its claws poised and ready to kill, Thor instantly backed down, and moved away from the hunting zone. As the grizzly bear noticed this, being a reclusive mammal, it returned to its feast. Intelligent, vastly, and conscious of its surroundings, the grizzly bear knew it would sense the viking should he approach, and this time, it may decide to kill.

 

Thor contemplated what to do, he did not know, but he decided to learn. As the bear would feast, so would he. In return, the vikingr turned away, and moved from the den of the grizzly bear. With his spear collected, slumped against a faraway branch, the vikingr hunted for fish instead. Using the edge of his spear to jab into the pond, he pincered fish akin to skewers, and collected them with ease. 

 

After collecting enough fishes, the viking hid the stone-spear beneath a mound of snow, and returned to the location of the grizzly bear. It still sat in place, lazily, feasting on the reindeer. Within a matter of seconds, its snout craned towards Thor, who had just come past the lining of trees. Silently, it leered, and observed, whilst chewing on a mouthful of skin and bones. 

 

The viking opted to remain close, not close enough to intrude on the grizzly bears reclusive territory, but enough for it to see him. Thor knelt on all fours, and placed the fish in front of him, for the grizzly bear to see. Silently, he started to eat, devouring the fish raw. Each time he ate, the viking gagged, but attempted to veil this. It was a disgusting taste, lacking any substance or flavour, and it painted his bear, and his lower-chin red in blood. The grizzly bear simply watched, and chewed, and in the same way Thor did not impede on its territory, the grizzly-bear opted to simply ignore the viking and allow him to feast on his own hunt. In this way, there was a mutual understanding; the grizzly bear did not have to kill Thor, for it already had food, for now, and Thor did not have to approach the grizzly-bear hunt, for he had his own meal.

 

Once the bear was filled by the hunt, it rolled over. Thor decided to do the same, and also rolled over. It stared silently at the viking, untrusting, but alas, it did not approach. It eventually stood up, its hind-legs outstretched to its front. Eventually, it stood up, and wandered into one of the larger hollow trees, curling within its dark depths. Thor opted to make another rudimentary camp nearby, not within its territory, but directly outside, and would do the same. 

 

For the next few days, as the grizzly bear awoke, Thor would also. The viking would leave and hunt, and so too would the grizzly bear. And when the grizzly bear feasted, Thor would feast within viewing distance. In this way, the grizzly bear would grow tolerant of Thor, but still, it would not accept him. Akin to another beast simply wishing to survive, that was all it could see the vikingr as, and nothing short of it. Indeed, the grizzly bear was still feral, and should it one day have nothing to feast on, the viking may become its next choice of food. 

 

 

One afternoon, the grizzly bear made its way towards a large river that went through a thicket of trees and into the mountainside. Thor decided to follow, from very far behind, as it normally would. On this occasion, he did not bring his spear. 

 

The viking remained on a distant side of the river, within view of the bear, so that it could see him, and he could see it. Thor contemplated whether the grizzly bear had considered it a stalker, or perchance, even a nuisance. Nevertheless, he attempted to do nothing to annoy it, and only showed his desire to survive. The grizzly bear showed off, its snout scoured below into the river at the numerous fishes swimming, blubbering, and living. It only took the bear a minute or so, before its snout dug into the water, and it attempted to ****** a fish. With finesse, the grizzly bear marked its canines into the fish and ripped it out from the water. Be it some sort of show-off, or simply looking to delight in its hunt, the grizzly-bear kept the fish in its maw, and stared out towards Thor.

 

He could not allow the grizzly bear to one up him, he thought. Or perhaps he thought that the grizzly bear looked at him, and thought the viking looked more tasty. For now, Thor decided not to contemplate. He stepped into the shallow edge of the river, and it had a violent stream, causing him to nearly fall over. 

 

The viking closed his eyes, violently clenching them, and he went back into his zone - as he called it, his ‘naturey’ space. Thor concentrated, slowly, with both hands outstretched towards the river's water, before opening his eyes. And then, he met his gaze towards the fish in question. Thor waited, and he waited, and he waited far more than the grizzly bear would. So long did he wait, that even the grizzly bear snarled in annoyance, and decided to start eating its own hunt. 

 

SNAP -  Thor lunged his hands forth, grasping the fish in question out of the river. He held the fish up, and he wanted to scream in victory, but decided not to alarm the grizzly bear. The bear took notice of Thor’s catch, and it could only gargled, and finally, decided to turn back and return to its den. The viking would do the same, following the bear far from behind, and they both sat in their respective long viewing distance, eating away at their hunt. In some way, perhaps, he had hoped the grizzly bear had found his catch somewhat acceptable. 

 

And then the next day settled in, and on this occasion, they had returned to the lake. The grizzly bear had made its hunt, snatching a fish with its claws, and settling it onto the stone. It would do this once, and then, for some reason, it would do this twice, and then three times, it would continue to do this until there were five to six stashes of fish. Thor could only watch from the distance, silently gazing in confusion. The grizzly bear turned to face Thor, and took five of six fishes from its maw, leaving one behind. It wandered off back into the den, and Thor stared at the singular fish, left for him.

 

The viking took the fish, and soon, from a fair distance, followed back. Thor decided that he was brave enough to sit much closer, and so, he shuffled up a few ten feet, until he was close enough to the bear wherein he was intruding on its territory. The grizzly bear did not react, and simply continued to eat, and so, Thor also continued to eat. 

 

And as the grizzly bear had finished, it rolled over. Thor did the same, albeit still far enough away, as he did not wish to overstep his trust-metre, as he called it. 

 

Once it was done nourishing itself from the numerous meals it had feasted on throughout the day, the grizzly bear stood, and went off towards its hollow trunk to sleep.

 

Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Thor, he was so relaxed with his stomach filled, that he simply remained in place, and fell asleep upon the ground within the territory of the grizzly bear. And he slept with plentiful dreams, recalling its fight against the wyvern, and its battle against the Grendelkin with his brethren. 

 

And he slept all night long.

 

 

Thor stretched his arms up, still laying on a plough of snow and leaves, yawning furiously. As his balled-fist slowly scrunched at his eyes, and he sat upright, his vision bespoke something horrific.

 

Only but a couple of feet away, the grizzly bear stood in place, its claws wrenched above a trunk that was only at the feet of Thor. It stared at him silently, its snout reared in his direction, with its fur bristled and raised. The grizzly bear did nothing. And Thor did nothing. They simply stared at each other, silently. 

 

Thor looked at the grizzly bear in detail, and could see its greatness, vastness, its wealth of beauty and its intelligent gaze. To the grizzly bear, it was unsure of what it saw, but for now, it did not see it as hunting. And in that silence.

 

There was a mutual acceptance.