Just a Viking (Orbit & NorthernWanderer in character)

[NorthernWanderer]

Eivor was screaming, axe held high. He'd been ready to sink into some Saxon's head just moments ago and now here he stood. Panting heavily as the world about him spun wildly. His stomach ready to pitch itself over a cliff. Metal horses whirled by as he realized maybe to late that he stood in the middle of a black road, one almost collided with the large round shield he held close to his body out of habit. Sending the tall gent stumbling back a few steps.

He couldn't remember how many times this had happened to him, waking up in another... World, another time. This though was the first where he had been in the middle of raiding, and it showed. Eivor stood there still, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he tried to get his bearings. The movement aggravating the arrow in his shoulder. Light armor bound body coated in splashes of blood from head to toe. Axe still raised out of pure reflexes. He shouted but it came out more of a scream than any coherent words. Desperately he tried to get his eyes to fully focus on his surroundings, but very quickly he was failing as he stumbled into the crowd on the sides of the road. People started screaming at him, realizing he was coated in blood. Parting like a school of fish as he fell to his knees. Shield clattering to the ground.

 

[Orbit]

Patrick was on the back end of a long shift at the hospital, and he was exhausted. As pre-usual they were understaffed, forcing him to take on extra hours. He was planning on going straight home, but the grumbles of his stomach had him taking a small diversion.
He went to his favorite fast-food place and ordered himself a fully-loaded hot dog. Saying his farewells to the staff he exited, and walked a short way up the street.

Rain was picking the air, but Patrick didn't mind. He often felt the rain cleansed him.
He was content in his own world, the hotdog was risen to his mouth when he froze. The shrieking of tires caught his attention, his eyes widening to see a huge man standing in the middle of a busy road.

"What the..." he dropped the hotdog and took a step closer, blinking the rain from his gaze. The man was dressed like an ancient warrior... and he had an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.
"Well!" he spluttered, confusion and shock rushing across his face. He'd seen many strange things working in the hospital but this was a first, even for him.

"Sir?" he shouted, trying to make his way across the road toward him, having to stop a few times as cars narrowly avoided hitting him.
"Hey... we need to get out of the road!" he called across as he drew nearer to him.
Patrick felt anxious, the man was bloodied and looked one step away from insanity, he knew he could lash out at him at any moment. But he also knew that he couldn't just leave him there. It wasn't in his nature to turn away and leave someone suffering and in danger.

He held his hand out towards him, hoping the guy would respond in a positive way.
"Come here... you need to get out of the road," he looked confused, but so did Patrick.
"Let's go"

 

[NorthernWanderer]

Eivor grunted, pulling himself back up on his feet so he nearly towered over the people around him. Though it did little to stop the way his head spun. Shield clutched awkwardly in his free hand. It finally registered the rain that was tickling his features. The soft grumble of thunder that shook somewhere off in the distance reminding him he was still in Midgard.

Though it was much to his surprise as he half stumbled that someone started to shout at him. Not in an attempt to send him to Valhalla way, but rather... Someone trying to help him. Eyebrows knitting together he took a half step back finally letting the axe hang loosely by his hip.

"Road... Aye road..." he managed to get out before a larger steel horse nearly collided with his back. Pushing him forward as that familiar tugging sensation came back. The Viking bracing himself for impact as the man who'd been trying to help him moments ago ended up tucked beneath the shield in his arms.

This time he didn't land back on the battlefield but rather an open field, and someone had come with him this time. The sounds of ravens crying out as they scattered. Rain still prickled the air but a new smell invaded his senses as he finally simply fell backwards onto his arse.

It was obvious, they were no longer in the bustling city. Rather they were in a farmer's field. Hay thatched roofs just over the hillside roared with fire in the slowly dimming light of the evening. "By the gods..." Eivor grumbled, letting himself finally just fall backwards so he could lay in the half grown hay. Eyes falling shut. There was that familiar and welcoming chill in the air, dusted with smoke and rain. The lingering threads of a raid hung mixed within the crops. Ravens screeched at them for intruding on their meal. One in particular tapping away at the metal helmet that held a head.
"Never get used tae that..." He grumbled clearly not aware of the plus one that had come along.

 

[Orbit]

Things were quickly going South, and Patrick found himself doubting his decision to walk into the road and retrieve this man.
He didn't seem to understand him at first and did the opposite of what Patrick wanted.
The man took a small step back from him and he lifted his hand higher "Hey... No, No!" a car was hurtling along the lane to the back of the man and came dangerously close to colliding with him.
The man was knocked forward and stumbled towards then against Patrick, pitching the both of them back towards oncoming traffic.

He could do nothing to stop it, the large man's arm linking over him, driving him towards an oncoming van. Squeezing his eyes shut he let out a yell of shock and braced himself for impact.

The wind rushed through his ears, and he felt a sudden sensation of falling, his body feeling as though it was in free fall going faster than he designed. Yelling against his now gritted teeth he fought against waves of pain. He felt like he was going to be torn apart. And just as he couldn't take it anymore he collided with the ground with force, the air being ejected from his lungs.

"Ah...." he groaned, rolling onto his side as consciousness fought to leave him. In a daze, he curled his hands into the grass.... Grass? He'd been on a road only seconds before. Confusion woke him, his eyes parting to see completely different terrain.
Gradually he worked up the energy to move, and once he had enough he sat up. His eyes widened in horror at the scene before him.

There were bodies everywhere. Most of them dressed in the same way the man from the road had been.
They were all dead or dying, most of them battered with horrifying injuries.
He felt his stomach churn and lurched to the side, losing the mouthful of hotdog he'd consumed not so long before.

Curling his fingers into the bloody grass he gasped, trying to calm himself enough to catch his breath.
"What the fuck?" wiping the back of his mouth he lifted his head again, and this time started to draw himself onto his feet. "Where am I?"

 

[NorthernWanderer]

He remained firmly planted where he lay, giving his body a long moment to simply adjust to having been flung through the threads of time twice in one day. Normally he'd been asleep, or even just eating dinner when it happened, but this was a first. To be flung like a rock twice in the same day... In the middle of a raid to which h obviously missed out on the best of, it pissed him off.

Tough just as he was about to start cursing a specific trickster Eivor heard a familiar voice. Dark eyes flickering up to the man who'd tried to help him but moments ago. Confusion quickly painted his face even if Midgard tilted like the sea still.

"You are south of Norvegr, in Bretland," Eivor called out in answer even if he was a little uncertain of that at the moment. "Just outside a town actually... Can't remember what it's called, could care less actually..." He grunted, head falling back in the grass. Lungs still desperate for air as he panted. "By Hellheim I don't know why yer here but yer here with me..."

Forcing himself to take another deep breath to try and right himself Eivor pushed himself into a sitting position. Hands scrubbing at his face even though all it did was smear more blood in places. Hiss loudly as the arrow shifted awkwardly. "Where was I? Nearly ran over by them iron beasts again," he asked even as he tried to push himself up again, only to have his legs give out again. It be at least some time before he could solidly walk again.
The cawing of ravens bringing an almost eerie smile to his face.

"Think you could give me a hand?" Eivor asked, nodding to the arrow sticking out of the front of his shoulder.

 

[Orbit]

It took him more than one attempt to get onto his feet, and when he eventually did he felt as though he had downed at least half a bottle of pure spirits. The world swayed around, and he sucked in some slow and long breaths, trying to keep his stomach from ejecting whatever was left onto the battlefield again.
"God..." there was carnage all around him, taking a step back he stumbled and nearly tripped over someone's leg. "Ugh," he wretched covering his mouth with the back of his hand, as he jammed his eyes shut.
He was used to seeing traumatic things at the hospital, but he'd never seen anything of this magnitude before.

A voice rose from the body-littered field, and Patrick opened his eyes searching for the culprit. They were answering his question, but the answer didn't help him. He still had no idea where they were. And he was half considering whether the van had hit him and he was in fact dead. Was this hell? There was no way it could be heaven, not with so many dismembered bodies littering around.

Finally, he spotted the man and started his way over towards him. It was the man from the road. And he seemed to be more injured than he had first seemed.
Trudging over Patrick tried to keep his eyes off of the floor and on the man.
Arriving before him he held out his hand, the man asking for his help.
"Is there anywhere we can go to get out of this god-awful field?" he questioned, bracing himself so he could pull the larger male onto his feet.

He glanced around, there was no sign of modern or civilized life anywhere. Where the hell was he?
Helping the man up, he braced him. Careful not to touch upon any of his more serious injuries.
"How did we get here?"

 

[NorthernWanderer]

He couldn't stop the odd snort of amusement as the gentleman from before appeared above him. Carefully hauling him to his feet. Though it took some effort not to just topple back over again. Broad shoulders sagging in exhaustion even as it jostled the arrow again.

"Not a man of battle I take it, man of the... Cloth maybe? Don't have much faith in yer one God ideals," Eivor chuckled in amusement, "Aye, the ship should just be up the way. North of here."

A large, battered hand ran through the mess of brown curls that half hung free before he was haphazardly shoving the axe into it's place on his belt. Almost going for his shield to but his body didn't let him so rather he clung to his new traveling companion. Still confused himself to why he'd been dragged along with him.

"Loki," was all Eivor gave at first in explanation.
Not entirely sure how else to put it, and not entirely sure if the man would believe him anyway. "Loki's Seidr, or magic as the Christians call it. He's not happy with All Father that I'm around, especially after what happened with Fenrir and the world serpent, so in turn time is not always on my side," he added, huffing softly.

"We could see if the farmer had horses or if the horses survived the raid, walking... Walking may have to wait for me. We raided at dawn... Looks as if dusk is approaching." He admitted, chuckling again at himself, "Normally don't suddenly get dragged through time or worlds in the middle of a raid."

 

[Orbit]

It took efforts on both their parts to keep the man standing upright. Patrick bolstered him in the best way he could.
He seemed to be in well enough spirits, especially considering the wounds he had. But he still didn't make any sense. Blabbering on about Loki and Fenrir, while mildly insulting him by calling him a man of the cloth, and poking at Christianity.

None of it made any sense to him. And frankly, Patrick was running out of patience with the whole thing. He's been dragged into some God-awful mess by this man, and now he couldn't find a way out.

"I don't understand" he replied, his efforts concentrating on the man as they started walking North towards a ship.
"OK... well none of this makes sense to me... but first I think we need to deal with your injuries before infection sets in" he tried to keep his voice as calm and collected as he could, and looked to the arrow that stuck out of the man. God knows how he was walking around with it stuck there.

"Horses?" He looked around slowly, seeing one in the far distance. "There," he pointed across the field towards the large white animal, that had been splattered and painted with blood.

 

[NorthernWanderer]

"Ah yes, it's all a bit complicated yes. Maybe best if I show you where we are," Eivor chuckled, the simple action coming with some cost. The larger man wincing lightly. "Just rip it out. Not the first arrow I've taken in my moons," he grunted softly, before eyes followed to where the other pointed. Grin growing with almost child like glee.

"I will be quite right after a horn of meed and a nights rest. Promise you that," he jested starting to lead them both in the direction of the horse. The warrior picking up the pace with more vigor than moments ago.

He had to half crawl over the wall before they were slowly approaching the white mare. The poor beast quite obviously terrified. As he cooed softly, letting go of his new traveling companion long enough to rest hands gently on the horses muzzle. Trying to be as calm as possible for the beast. "Can you ride?" Eivor asked softly.

 

[Orbit]

The beast of a man kept on with his ramblings, and Patrick started to put some real thought into his Hell theory, deciding that it was the only explanation that made any sense. He was dead and stuck in hell with this man- the reason for his death, to be forever confused and tortured by his infernal ramblings.
"Just pull it out... Uh, I don't think that's the best idea. You could bleed out," he replied, shook that the man seemed to think nothing of this whole ordeal.

Yet he didn't get the chance to discuss the pulling of the arrow, let alone do it. The man moved away with enough strength to approach the horse. Patrick held back as he watched the man soothe ramble about mead then start soothing the horse.

"Yep... He's insane" he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. He was stuck in some random field of horror, with an insane man who was offering him no real answers.

He looked as the man asked him if he could ride. And he nodded, regretting it instantly.
"Hm, yeah I can" he started following the man, scrambling over objects that blocked them from one another.
Stopping in front of them he lifted his hand up for the horse to get a sniff of him so they could greet one another.

"How long will this journey be?"

 

[NorthernWanderer]

"Depends if the men have started back up the river or not, but there had mention of camp being made this morning," Eivor offered in some explanation though it may not have been an answer his companion understood, "We should be there by moonrise."

He grunted softly, tired body winding up for a second as he hauled the smaller man a top the horse. Not bothering to ask for permission. Any protest falling on deaf ears. Yes he was exhausted and still a fair bit woozy but they had a journey to make.

Eivor was on the house with a small amount of difficulty, taking his place behind the gent. Careful not to spook the horse any more than it already had been. "Hold on," Eivor warned, finally just busting the main beam of the arrow off so nothing more than a small stick stuck out. Eliminating the solid foot of wood that had been causing issues moments ago. Shield now carefully hung from his arm.

It wasn't long before they were moving, his board arms wrapping around the gentleman so he could take a small handful of hair to guide the horse. Leading them into the deep thicket of woods, retracing his steps from just that morning. Course it wasn't hard, the heavy footfalls of his clansmen left deep paths in the ancient forest. The last few rays of sunshine flickering through the dense forest canopy. Various birds bickering in the amongst the leaves. It was quite obvious that these forests were much older and untouched by man. Something even he had noticed in his brief flashes into the otherworld.

"It dawns on me that we have not properly met. Eivor, Eivor Odinson of Norvegr, second to the Jarl of Ironsthrope," Eivor offered even as they raced through the trees. Grunt softly in pain.

 

[Orbit]

He ascertained that they would be going to some sort of encampment, and he nodded, looking up to the skies as Eivor spoke of arriving by moonrise. He figured that would be a few hours from now.

He didn't have a chance to ask more questions. Eivor grabbed him and manhandled him up onto the horse's back. Patrick made a small startled sound but managed to quickly right himself on the animal, his body molding around it to sit with comfort.

Eivor climbed onto the back of the animal and nestled in behind him. "Hey..Don't..." he didn't have a chance to stop the man, as Eivor broke the arrow off within his wound. "Oh God..." he sighed. Any normal man would have been in agony, and unable to function, yet this man made it seem like just another day.

Eivor nestled himself against Patrick's back, wrapping around him so he could steer the horse, he felt the warmth pressed against his back, but kept his eyes ahead, not wanting to distract the man from his current task.

The horse picked up the pace, Eivor's pain increasing. Patrick found himself hoping that the man didn't pass out and fall off the horse at such a high speed.
But the man spoke, probably trying to distract himself from the pain he felt.
His name was long and gave Patrick no further clarity. It was a confusing name and sounded like something from a history book.
"Uh, OK..." he would have said 'nice to meet you', but he wasn't exactly enjoying himself.
"I'm Patrick Cole... Just Patrick Cole"

 

[NorthernWanderer]

"Patrick Cole," Eivor tested even as he pressed the horse on further, grunting softly. A rather cheesy, boisterous grin growing on his face. "Are you a man of the cloth? The Saxons are quite fond of their holy men, Saint Patrick I believe the one man prayed to before he was sent to Valhalla or whatever after life he believes in."

Thankfully it didn't take them long to come to the point in the forest where the river cut through it, the Viking turning the horse westward so they were riding straight towards the sun. The soft rays of light kissing his tired face.

He felt his body stiffen a little before he let his weight fall forward just a bit more. Head resting briefly on Patrick Cole's shoulder.
Thankfully though it wasn't as long as he had thought, the sounds of merriment and the heavy smell of meed and meat invaded the forest around them. Just through the tree line a few campfires roared between deep red tents. The large longship carefully landed on the rivers edge.

"Course they didnae get very far," Eivor chuckled, his voice cracking. His smile quickly relaxed though as broad shoulders fully buckled and he found himself half collapsing against Patrick and the horse. Arms firmly wrapping about the man's waist so he didn't fully fall off.

 

[Orbit]

"A man of the cloth... what is it with you asking that?" the skin between his eyebrows crinkled into a frown, as he wondered what the man even meant. "No, I work in a hospital as a tech," so maybe you should listen when I tell you not to go yanking arrows out of penetrating wounds?"
The whole thing was getting to him, he needed it to start making sense soon, or else he'd lose his mind if he hadn't already.
"No, I'm not Saint Parick. I am just Patrick."

They changed course, the horse following the river, as Eivor assured him it wouldn't be much longer. "Good," he muttered, feeling Eivor's weight gradually increasing against his back. The man had lost a lot of blood and had other injuries unknown to Patrick.
He was going to collapse sooner rather than later, and Patrick just hoped they would be somewhere much safer when he did.

A ship loomed, and the horse sped up. Eivor becoming even more reliant on Patrick to stay upright.
The noise was overwhelming, singing, shouting, laughing... the ship was the biggest wooden ship he'd ever seen. And it was full of men and women that looked like Eivor.

He'd hoped for relief but instead felt trepidation. However, he didn't have long to dwell on it. The horse came to a stop as Eivor pitched against him, the larger man's arms wrapped around him for stability. Though that stability wasn't going to save him.
Eivor knocked Patrick off balance, and soon they were both falling from the horse, Patrick managing to brace himself before they both hit the ground with a thud, half of Eivor's body strewn across him.
"Hey..." he groaned, trying to roll out from underneath the larger man. "Hey... Don't pass out, not now..." not when he didn't know what the hell was going on, and who was on the ships. For all, he knew they would skin him alive. "Are we safe here?" he grunted pulling his arm out from underneath the man.

 

[NorthernWanderer]

Eivor almost didn't register what Patrick said, trying his best to keep himself upright but it was obvious that wasn't going to last long. The world around him didn't come back into focus until the hit the ground. A loud grunt shaking his chest as he felt someone beneath him trying to move. Reflexively pushing himself over so he was on his back, freeing Patrick.
"Far safer here than anywhere else in the land," Eivor chuckled his good hand back to rubbing his face. Trying to free the exhaustion from his features.

"Pass out... I won't pass out..." he started before he nearly ate his words, a dark haze casting itself over his senses for a second. Though just as quickly he was sitting up, regretting the sudden movement, but no longer on the verge of blacking out. Grunting softly as he did so. "Your other question. Man of cloth, you don't fight, didn't take to a battlefield well. Assuming you are a man of God or man of the cloth. The whole Christianity thing that Saxon's are so fascinated. I'm not sure what a hospatil is," Eivor offered in some form of explanation, pushing himself upwards again so he half fumbled on his feet, genuinely uncertain what a hospital was... Or even how to pronounce the world. Quick to offer a hand to his traveling companion as he yanked him to his feet.

"Bjorn! Sigard!!" Eivor shouted over the chaos of drunken merriment, taking a few clumsy steps towards the encampment. Some of the laughter died down for a moment before a bear of a man tumbled over the edge of the ship. The roar grew as people laughed at their drunken friend who was lost scrambling in the crowd. "Swear that man can't hold his meed even if he drinks like Thor," Eivor chuckled, lazily throwing an arm over Patrick's shoulder.

"What in the gods name did you do to yourself this time!?" a new voice shouted, a much younger gent pushing through the mix of men and women to get to where Patrick and Eivor were walking. His face turning to pure confusion when he spotted the newcomer. "The last thing I saw was you take some Sax's head off, take an arrow, and you were gone. What in Hellheim happened?"

"Loki had his fun with me again," Eivor quickly offered, the stupid grin still plastered on his face as Sigard took the arm that was tossed over the strangers shoulder.

"And you brought a friend? Fancy how you always have a story to tell. Who's this?" Sigard grunted, violent blue eyes looking Patrick up and down, "he's sure dressed funny, is he from the monastery?"

Sigard&Bjorn

 

[Orbit]

This man was defiant about everything. He continued to speak even as unconsciousness kept trying to pull him over. Patrick moved to sit up at the same time as Eivor, the Viking saying he wouldn't pass out while looking as though he would. Patrick readied himself in case he needed to catch the man so he didn't bang his yet, but Evior managed to stay awake. Going on about Patrick being a man of the cloth again. "Ugh," he groaned, slapping his hand against the floor.
This man had dragged him to god only knew where, and now he wouldn't give him a clear answer about anything.
"A hospital?" how could he not know what one was? Was he playing games with him? Sighing Patrick groaned, deciding he better play along for the time being.
"A hospital is where sick and injured people go to get help. And people work there to try and make them better..." he tried to recall names of old but struggled, "Like a healer?"

Men were approaching them now, and they were just as rambunctious as Eivor, much to Patrick's dismay.
Soon he was being dragged onto his feet, a strange man draping himself over his shoulder while Eivor walked uneasily on the other side of him.
Eivor spoke of Loki, and Patrick glanced across to him, this man had been reading too many Viking novels. Maybe this was some form of re-enactment and they were all in on the joke?

The new man poked fun at his clothes and Patrick lifted his eyes to look up at him. They were all huge. Since when were people this big?
He tried to shrug out from under the man's arm, and walk beside them instead of underneath them.
"Look I don't know what's happening here, but enough now alright? Your friend there needs a doctor, and I want to go home"