Post by Deleted on Apr 3, 2015 6:15:59 GMT -6
Leif’s little “business trip” had taken nearly a month of research (including a relatively major hacking incident) and a set of detailed Futhark runes, laid out on sheets of paper across his living room floor. Leif sat in the middle of his carefully arranged markings. Aatsuk had sat unhelpfully on his shoulder, digging her claws as far in as she could into his flesh, which admittedly wasn't particularly far, but it was annoying. Once the sheets were all laid out correctly (a few millimetres off and he could end up in the Gobi desert) it only took him to say <"Activate!"> and the drawn runes lit up in green sparks, energy flowing off in waves. And then he was gone.
Normally, he wouldn't bother marking runes, but the precision was for once important. He landed sitting on a hill in a field of sheep, looking down at a settlement near his target. Edinburgh. The city was so lacking in magical energy that he was glad for all that his rune marking had brought with him. He would definitely need a stop-over when returning home, like he had suspected. Somewhere British with a decent amount of magical energy.
”I love Scotland already. All these wonderful locals.” Leif ignored the bird, searching for something that had drawn him here, and saw the ruins of what looked like a castle.
Fortunately the hill was far enough away from the city that no-one observed the young man searching through the night to find a mystical item in the ruins of the castle. They would likely have thought him crazier than a dingbat- or Odin for that matter- if they had.
It was worth it, however, for the halter of Clyddo Eiddin.
Leif’s reaction to the next stage of his plan ran something along the lines of “Which imbecile cut off half my brother’s legs?!” Aatsuk’s was a little calmer.
”And lo, behold the beauty of plastic surgery. The ultimate makeover has been finished. The target’s legs have been corrected and that ugly horse-like no-”
”Shut up.” Leif took a better look at the horse, well, monster, and found himself strangely pleased. A hippogriff. Not quite what he had expected for a mythical horse that could fly but it would suit. It even had the decency to fit his colour scheme: a silky black creature with wing-feathers tipped in gold. Not ruining his style was always a plus.
Actually getting the creature out of the empty house he had found (was breaking and entering into an abandoned house, then sleeping there, trespassing?) was not. Leif never thought he would find something less satisfying than Loki’s insults, but apparently this was a contender. The beast only actually left by the back door when Leif threatened to put an enchanted irremovable pink ribbon around its tail. Apparently the beast had some fashion sense. Leif liked it continually more.
Calling the beast “it” felt impersonal. It responded awfully to being called lovely, but apparently hippogriffs do not understand Icelandic as “freydir og regnboga” (Sparkles and rainbows) did not illicit a kick. It does illicit a long line of “Kiao kiao”s in Aatsuk’s falling laugh.
Freydir being a perfect name for a two metre tall killing machine, Leif decided to take him- Freydir did not like being called “she” and Leif had plenty of marks to prove it- out for a ride. Luckily Freydir was strong enough to support a half-jotunn demigod.
London was a disappointment. Now there was blustering winds and drizzle, starting about a half hour after Leif named Freydir- Aatsuk still couldn't stop laughing, and was flying along behind. Apparently the beautiful half-bird monster was unappreciated by the pure-bred mortals, if the panicked looks and running about were anything to go by. Obviously the traffic halted in sheer terror at the sight of so powerful a beast (Leif had no clue about the state of congestion of London roads).
Normally, he wouldn't bother marking runes, but the precision was for once important. He landed sitting on a hill in a field of sheep, looking down at a settlement near his target. Edinburgh. The city was so lacking in magical energy that he was glad for all that his rune marking had brought with him. He would definitely need a stop-over when returning home, like he had suspected. Somewhere British with a decent amount of magical energy.
”I love Scotland already. All these wonderful locals.” Leif ignored the bird, searching for something that had drawn him here, and saw the ruins of what looked like a castle.
Fortunately the hill was far enough away from the city that no-one observed the young man searching through the night to find a mystical item in the ruins of the castle. They would likely have thought him crazier than a dingbat- or Odin for that matter- if they had.
It was worth it, however, for the halter of Clyddo Eiddin.
Leif’s reaction to the next stage of his plan ran something along the lines of “Which imbecile cut off half my brother’s legs?!” Aatsuk’s was a little calmer.
”And lo, behold the beauty of plastic surgery. The ultimate makeover has been finished. The target’s legs have been corrected and that ugly horse-like no-”
”Shut up.” Leif took a better look at the horse, well, monster, and found himself strangely pleased. A hippogriff. Not quite what he had expected for a mythical horse that could fly but it would suit. It even had the decency to fit his colour scheme: a silky black creature with wing-feathers tipped in gold. Not ruining his style was always a plus.
Actually getting the creature out of the empty house he had found (was breaking and entering into an abandoned house, then sleeping there, trespassing?) was not. Leif never thought he would find something less satisfying than Loki’s insults, but apparently this was a contender. The beast only actually left by the back door when Leif threatened to put an enchanted irremovable pink ribbon around its tail. Apparently the beast had some fashion sense. Leif liked it continually more.
Calling the beast “it” felt impersonal. It responded awfully to being called lovely, but apparently hippogriffs do not understand Icelandic as “freydir og regnboga” (Sparkles and rainbows) did not illicit a kick. It does illicit a long line of “Kiao kiao”s in Aatsuk’s falling laugh.
Freydir being a perfect name for a two metre tall killing machine, Leif decided to take him- Freydir did not like being called “she” and Leif had plenty of marks to prove it- out for a ride. Luckily Freydir was strong enough to support a half-jotunn demigod.
London was a disappointment. Now there was blustering winds and drizzle, starting about a half hour after Leif named Freydir- Aatsuk still couldn't stop laughing, and was flying along behind. Apparently the beautiful half-bird monster was unappreciated by the pure-bred mortals, if the panicked looks and running about were anything to go by. Obviously the traffic halted in sheer terror at the sight of so powerful a beast (Leif had no clue about the state of congestion of London roads).