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| DOA?:Ultimate Confusion; There will be utter annoyance... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 13 2009, 05:24 AM (2,788 Views) | |
| Teslyn | Mar 23 2009, 08:22 AM Post #21 |
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a fleeting presence
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A Brit and another giant - really, exactly what Austin needed. Though to be fair, the Brit was cute and gods (whoever and wherever they were) Austin did adore British accents! With a grin on his face he opted to wait until the Brit had chosen his tent to pick out his own. Or maybe he would just snag the one the opposite side of the Russian, as Winoa had taken one already, just to annoy him... "Y'know, I never thought dynamite could be used as a proper archaeological tool... I'm pretty sure somewhere right now my advisor is having an apoplexy," Austin said cheerily- but if the dynamite was going to get them into Valhalla - or whatever it was - that much quicker, Austin was willing to sacrifice Professor Rossi's scruples. Walking around the side of the excavation site, Austin took everything in with a keen interest, from the structure to the designs on the side before returning to the rest of the group. "You know," he wondered aloud, "I don't see why it can't be Valhalla. The Greeks believed their gods were at the top of Mount Olympus -- but that doesn't mean Mount Olympus doesn't exist, right?" Maybe he was just forcing things, drawing comparisons where comparisons didn't exist, but Austin really wanted this place to be Valhalla. "Because it would be ridiculously awesome if this was Valhalla" - Valhalla with its golden apples. |
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| Silvermourn | Mar 23 2009, 08:10 PM Post #22 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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Logan found himself a point of attention after his arrival. Despite the fact that he had hung back in silence nearly all of the other had taken the time to take some notice of him. It made sense though, they would have had to been totally unaware not to see the giant of a man standing behind them watching every move they made. He wasn't sure what to do from there, other than watch and wait. He was less likely to get tossed out if he didn't attempt to make conversation with anyone. The longer it took them to realize that he wasn't supposed to be there, the easier it would be to keep himself attached to the operation. That was what he really wanted, to get his name on things when everything was said and done, and to have a piece of the fabled treasures of the gods when he left. The rest of the group seemed to be terribly focused on the apples, that was what everyone expected to find. They all expected to find the apples, but how an apple could survive even in this weather he didn't know. What he was really interested in were the items of power, probably less likely but still interesting even as nothing more than relics and collectibles. Something like Thor's Mjolnir, or Merginjad the belt that gave one inhuman strength. The weapons really interested him, but there were a multitude of things that could still be left behind. Maybe they would find the skeletons of the gods, that would be an interesting sight all in it's own. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| DarkAngel013 | Mar 23 2009, 11:37 PM Post #23 |
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Sleepy Inspiration
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“I wouldn’t be ranting on about the matter, but being pulled out of a very important mission in Afghanistan for something that has not been excavated already, you would be very pissed. If this site is not excavated within a few days, and several soldiers are killed without medical aid from me, then I’ll make sure that the person in charge of this site will have dead soldiers on his conscience.” Amethyst just watched the man, carefully placing her expression to be blank. "Well, you must be one of those people who have high value in life," she murmured, somewhat only low enough for him to hear. "You are different from I more than I had expected." A strange emotion flickered across her face, as if it were a mix of regret, despair, sadness, and pain before it settled on that blank expression again. She turned on her heel and headed towards the entrance when Jason seemed to notice their Russian leader. Amusing, this place is, she thought as she watched, preparing herself for another round of fireworks, one of her favorite parts of a job. Mildly, she wondered what Logan, the one who stood at the edge of the excavation, was doing here. He had been one of the suspects that was to most likely force his way onto the site, and she had been right. Thanks to the help of the person who hired her, she found out that he seemed convinced that he was of Norse descent, and she didn't want to comment on it. Tall... make that extremely tall, handsome, and a good build was something that a lot of girls her age should look for in a guy. She scoffed at the idea. Men never worked well with me, simply because they can't stand the fact that a woman two times smaller than him can take him down, and even beat them in a small game of gun-shooting, she thought, staring at the three who were setting up the dynamites. The British Combat Medic isn't that bad either... but I really doubt that any of the men here, especially that gay one over there, will even spare me a second glance, she thought blankly as she continued to watch. She shook her head, getting rid of those thoughts as she got up to go near the men. "Do you need any help?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, her voice soft and musical. |
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^Clicketh on thy picture. =] Call me Niko-chan~ ![]() ![]()
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| Dark Jack | Mar 24 2009, 01:26 AM Post #24 |
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The Phantom Poster
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Having placed the wire in another stick of dynamite, Mikhael was brought out of his state of concentration as the Brit from before approached him, commenting that ale was to be preferred over vodka and presenting him with a bottle of what the label on it claimed was Newcastle Brown Ale. Giving the bottle a distrustful look, Mikhael barely listened as the Brit finally cared to tell the team his name. "Jason, eh?" Mikhael nodded, automatically letting the nail on the thumb of the hand holding the bottle of ale slid beneath the bottlecap, and with a single motion he simply flicked it off, sending the cap flying into the snow. "Guess it won't kill me... and even if it does, I could probably withstand any poison for long enough to break your neck before it has me to my knees." Without anymore delay, Mikhael raised the ale and emptied the whole bottle in a single drag, and when he lowered it again, it was with a uncomfortable grimace on his face. "Sweet!" he spat, desperately reaching for the bottle of vodka Ivan was presenting him with, which he quickly gulped down as well, "If I want liquid candy, I could as well drink mead! And how weak is that? I don't even feel a buzz after finishing the whole bottle." He emptied the bottle of vodka and gestured for Ivan to fetch another one for him. "Then I prefer Pertsovka any day of the week. Burns all the way down and gives such a nice buzz! But what can one expect from western beverages?" He chuckled to himself, and it was only when Ivan hurriedly reached him his vodka that Mikhael continued on the work of placing the dynamite. A short while later, it seemed the others were getting settled in, and Mikhael had already made the pile of snow and dirt covering the entrance dotted with more than twenty sticks of dynamite, all placed with such precision that their combined blast should clear the area completely. The little gay kid mentioned something about that he distrusted dynamite as a tool for digging at archaeological sites like this one, which caused Mikhael to chuckle to himself. Sure, explosives were usually too violent for digging up ancient objects of the past, and used the wrong way, dynamite certainly would cause more harm than aid for their excavation - as his clumsy assistants so foolishly demonstrated. But dynamite was not a very powerful explosive, and in the hands of an expert, such as Mikhael, it could be just as safe and a hundred times as effective as those annoying little brushes the other archaeologists used. Besides, there was a reason that Mikhael had spent two whole cold, boring years at the site before he did this - he needed to know if the ruins were even stable enough to withstand the blast. Now that he knew it would be, nothing was holding him back from clearing out the place. The gay kid also said something about this could have been Valhalla, arguing that Mount Olympus existed, even though the existence of the Greek gods was yet to be proven, and to be fair, Mikhael had to give that explanation some credit. Although Mount Olympus was a natural occurance and Valhalla almost certainly was not, Mikhael could relate to that Valhalla perhaps just was a place of worship for the Vikings? Or perhaps some kind of fortress meant for emergencies? Or maybe it was actually built by the Vikings to serve as a symbolic home for the Aesir? Either way, whatever this thing was, it was as old as the Vikings, it was stowed away in a desolate place, and it certainly was built solid. Even if it was just a cruel prank by the Vikings, there could be found some invaluable relics in there. Mikhael still doubted it, though. His trail of thought was cut in short, however, when the Chinese girl at the same age of the gay kid came up to him and asked if she could help. Although the gesture was innocent enough, Mikhael just grunted at her, finishing the stick of dynamite he was working on. "Njet," he told her, "Because I'm already done. That was the last. You can help me collecting the wires connected to the dynamite, though - I will need all of them to rig up the detonator. And then I'll be ready to blow this place to Hell or Helheim or whatever you prefer to call it." To demonstrate what he meant, he knelt next to the stick of dynamite he had just finished rigging, picked up the end of the wire that was neatly put in a bundle next to the stick, and started dragging the long metal wire behind him as he went back towards their camp. |
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| Mercinus3 | Mar 24 2009, 07:11 AM Post #25 |
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The English Kitty Ninja
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"If I want liquid candy, I could as well drink mead! And how weak is that? I don't even feel a buzz after finishing the whole bottle… Then I prefer Pertsovka any day of the week. Burns all the way down and gives such a nice buzz! But what can one expect from western beverages?" Jaosn had rolled his eyes at the Russian’s comment, venting a bit of his rage into his swig of the ale. “Unlike you Ruskies, who seems to think about the bally strength of a good drink, we westerners like the actual taste of the thing that we’re drinking, and not the bloody strength.” Again, he took another gulp of the English ale, savouring the slightly sweet taste of the alcohol. Just as he was about to place the empty bottle on the ground, he managed to hear the words from the woman that had stood up to him, and got him to calm down. "Well, you must be one of those people who have high value in life," Before he could reply, he thought about the past events that had occurred to him in Afghanistan. He thought about the friends and comrades that had been killed in front of his eyes. He even remembered one of his best friends dying in his arms, before he got back to the main camp. Finally, when his thoughts came back to reality, he whispered to the girl again, but he allowed his voice to go to her ears only. “I do have a high value of life. God knows how many of my friends had been killed during my duty in Afghanistan. Even my best friend, Mack McReeves, had died within my arms, just as I had tried to heal his injuries.” Once again, he rooted around his backpack for another bottle of ale, and started to drink it. Thinking about the friends that fell in battle. |
![]() This is true. I will go ninja kitty on your asses if you do... *glowers and sharpens claws*
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| DarkAngel013 | Mar 25 2009, 02:50 AM Post #26 |
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Sleepy Inspiration
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"I see," she murmured as she lowered herself over the dynamites and other possible explosives. With the quick movement of her hands, she quickly set to work, finishing up connecting each of the explosives in record time. She stood up from her tedious work to admire it, and then stepped back as she stretched. The time was coming for them to access "Valhalla" and soon, she shall get to explore, her body itching to finally become tense at the aspect of the possible traps and such inside. As she stepped back further, the Combat Medic whispered something, startling her because she had not been expecting him to reply to her earlier statement. Her eyes darkened at when he said how many friends had died. "Being a medic must be difficult..." was all she murmured, her eyes getting darker with each word. Oh, the words of anger she could say to him about life, but she swallowed it. She would not blow her cover so soon, after all, she was quite well-known around the world, not her herself, but her alias, Lyrica. "Whilst I have many things I want to say to you, I shall bite my tongue," she said, before adding, "At least... they died in peace and had battled for something they believed in..." All this she had whispered in such a low voice, it was amazing that he would have heard them at all. Her dark expression disappeared, only to be replaced by a blank expression. She looked away and wondered if she should go and continue to help out the others who were still setting up the dynamites. She left Jason before he could say anything to what she had just said, her face hidden as her back was facing him. "Hey, Win!" she called, "We're gonna start blowing up some things, so you might want to come over here as soon as the smoke clears!" |
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^Clicketh on thy picture. =] Call me Niko-chan~ ![]() ![]()
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| Latanya | Mar 25 2009, 04:11 PM Post #27 |
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lawful good intelligent asshole
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Severin took his time to look around in the little group he would be forced to work with for the next months at the very least. Of course he hadn’t expect a fellow German, but not even finding another true Arian did somehow annoy him. What did the government think he was, superman or what? Even being proven to be the most worthy man around, he still was only one, and even an elephant could be taken down if there only were enough bunnies. He shook his head with an annoyed swear and eyeballed one of his colleagues after the other. First of all there was the man he had noticed earlier already, Mikharl Grelikof. A motherfucking communist. He matched the cliché exactly. A muscular giant with nothing in his head than swigging. A derisive smile passed Severin’s lips when he watched him upending one bottle of vodka after the other while directing the explosives – though he obviously knew how to do that, to give him his due. Still; drinking at work was nothing Severin would even have imagined once. Work was to be done, and work was to be done exactly. Fun was to be restored for the closing time. Then there was this gay-guy who had just dared to flirt with the mountain of a man the Russian was. Even if he was a condemnable spawn of the bottom of society – he was amusing. As long as he didn’t think about trying his luck with Severin, that was. The German didn’t know what he would do in such a case. Still, he was sure that his answer wouldn’t be as nice as the Russian’s. As soon as he turned towards one of the women, a girl obviously from one of the northerly countries, his high spirits volatized again. He had never seen much difference in between Russia and the countries of the former USSR. Disposable fucking communists, all of them. And now the had even dared to send a woman. Severin felt like doing something physically impossible to the Estonian, until she accepted the position a USSR-woman deserved. Then there was the little Asian girl. Chinese? Of course Chinese. They were the only ones daring interfere in European affairs that much. Another bloody communist. But although Chinese she somehow looked too attractive for him to wish her the same as he had secretly done to the Estonian. Far from it – she made him wish something far more pleasant. At least for him. The American Indian looking woman was less of his taste. Even if she didn’t look particularly repellent, she was nothing too special for him, although he had to admit that the little interval in between her and the Russian had been impressive. Still, he had always preferred more petite girls, preferable of a figure that made him feel totally in control of her health. That woman was an American. A little bloody American, descendant of a race without culture, manners or respect. Motherfuckers. Concerning the impolite newcomer – well, he was a Brit. What else could you expect of guy living on an island separated by the civilized mainland? Severin shook his head with a sneer, once again certified that none of these nationalities could even dream of matching his motherland. He was and he would always be superior to these guys, no matter what his job at the site might be. With a fake smile he lend the Russian a hand with the wires the man had asked for. “Then let’s blow Valhalla up”, he said with an equanimous sigh, connecting a few of the wires to the detonator. |
Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
Ed Byrne. | |
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| Oracle | Mar 25 2009, 10:08 PM Post #28 |
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Head of Diplomatic Affairs
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Mikhael set the dynamite and had the oriental girl setting fuses. With any luck at all they might have something to look at in just a few minutes. She tore off at a frantic run back the short distance to the tents. Practically unearthing her back pack on the bed, she shifted through everything. Head flashlight, spare ammo, her belt pouch with the excavating equipment. As an after thought she shoved about half a dozen protein bars in her daysack, a space blanket, and a breather mask. Slipping it onto her back, she grabbed her canteen on her way out the door. A grin cracked the stern look on her face when the explosion went off. Noticing the crates of Vodka, she grabbed a bottle. The debris was settling as she approached the others. The tall handsome silent fellow was still a bit to the outside of the group. She decided it wouldn't hurt to talk to him anyway. Everyone else seemed to be avoiding him like the plague. Her ears were still ringing a bit from the blast and she didn't realise she was speaking a little louder than normal. "Hello, you were one of the later arrivals? I'm Winona, from the States, anthropology and logistics." She extended her hand, a bit nervous. He was even more incredibly good looking close up, but who knew, he might be as dumb as an ox. "Are you ready to brave the gates of Valhalla? Where no mortal has set foot before? I think we are about to get our chance." She turned to glance back at the almost settled ice dust, "MIKHAEL," she shouted to get his attention, "Now 'that' was a glorious BOOM, yes? Is there an opening?" Her grin was as wide as a Cheshire cat as she walked toward him bottle extended. "I thought you might be wanting to celebrate! and if not, drown your sorrows. I am ready to go in if the space is clear enough." |
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I Role Play because the people in my head tell me to. TUESDAY AFTERNOON It is God who can transform the lowest into the highest, who humbles the proud, and causes that which is in darkness to become light.~Horace ![]() | |
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| Shienvien | Mar 26 2009, 10:49 AM Post #29 |
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I want, I can, I do
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It somewhat surprised Helin that the Russian actually started to do something, instead of just watching the assistants do the job for him. The experiences she had this far had with his nation were mostly not of the kind which would impress her, but rather the very opposite. Like it had been with fixing her house. Whenever she went checking what the workers were actually doing she found them sitting under the balcony, smoking, and there were always at least two open bottles of vodka nearby- well, Mikhael was as fond of the drink, it seemed, but at least he was doing something- and that always made her wonder where had they found the bottles filled with that liquor, as they appeared to have none when they arrived. Actually Helin suspected that they had taken a quick tour to nearest shop to fetch it, as it was the only way the bottles could magically appear. And those guys wanted to get paid! Screaming on them a little usually helped a little, though, but the looks they gave her then were of the kind that suggested that they were more than ready to kill her on the spot, but after all, this was the only way to get them to move. And even funnier was when she asked them to redo what they had already done later, as their sloppy work was far from even tolerable, not to speak about satisfactory. In the end she thought that if she had hired whoever else but Russians for the work, they would have finished at least a few months earlier. Other than lazy workers she could bring out several other reasons why to not like Russians, beginning from sending two tenths of her nation into somewhere northern Russia or killing them off- and later claiming they had done nothing at all, and that even such thing as Soviet occupation didn't exist in the first place... And so on, and so on, even the brightest memories from school were related to Russians terrorizing Estonian students- but they didn't dare to touch them when they weren't outnumbering the Estonians at least three to one. Didn't help with seeing the whole nation as other than violent cowards. (And a little too full of themselves at that.) But most of them didn't exactly have Mikhael's build too, being generally a little shorter than the (very) tall Estonians- and lanky, rather than overly muscled. No wonder most of the little country was rather negatively minded towards Russians. Her they left, fortunately for her, mostly alone, especially after finding out that she will, and can fight back when assaulted, her being not of the kind who will silently suffer under the torture. Well, most of the Estonians didn't. And they did what they wanted anyway, even had parties of their own, despite of them knowing that there was a gang of Russians near the door, waiting whether anyone is stupid enough to set a foot outside alone. "Krdi venelased... Isekad värdjad sellised... Nad kõik." she muttered to herself half-voice in Estonian, thinking over those unpleasant memories, rather confident that none of the others there would understand. The first word wasn't even a true word, after all. Well, it would have been, when she pronounced out the two missing vowels. But she didn't, and by no means was she going to tell what it meant, at least not while this gigantic Russian so nearby. He was no doubt stronger than she was, and more than possibly he too could fight when he wanted to. At least she was rather confident she was a lot quicker than he, when it comes to that. She was not exactly needed right now, with the Russian having enough helpers already, so she stood a little back and watched while the others finished setting the dynamites and soon the following explosion sent the snow flying again, before the larger pieces fell to ground again and the sparkling-white dust of snow slowly started to settle down on ground where it belonged to. Only then she finally stepped closer, having dug out the lesser backage with her set of tools from her overly large package. "So, that is cleared now? It would be good if we could already enter today, right?" ((In case you got the wrong impression, then I don't hold anything overly personal against Russians in general, despite what many of them have done. Some of the nation are as nice as any other and I actually do have a few Estonian-Russians amongst my friends.)) |
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A thought can create a world, but only a word written down can ensure its existence. -When I am physically capable of doing something it doesn't mean I can do it. When I can, it doesn't mean that I should. When I should, it doesn't mean that I must. When I must, it doesn't mean that I will. -I might not always know where I currently am, but I am never lost. I know in which direction my destination lies. -There is no faith in knowing. I prefer to know, as only in this way can I be certain in my decisions. -The more people you ask a question the higher the chance that at least one of them is right. -Make me walk on walls, don't force me to dance according to others' will. -I agree that life can be depressing at times. I just choose to ignore it. -I don't figure over possibilities. I want, I can, I do. | |
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| Dark Jack | Mar 26 2009, 01:10 PM Post #30 |
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The Phantom Poster
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Once everyone were out of the danger-zone, Mikhael connected the wires and activated the detonator, and truly, just as he had planned, the sound of thundering explosions rolled across the valley like a symphony to his ears, and flowers of fire bloomed out of each stick of dynamite, throwing cascades of snow and dirt into the air, making a mix of white and black rain fall upon them, and a mix of dust from the ground and vapor from the instantly melted snow filled the air, clouding his vision. Truly, Mikhael knew no greater joy than blowing things up, especially when the explosions went on exactly as planned - it gave him a rush that not even vodka could match, not even in the ridiculous amounts he consumed. "Glorious," Mikhael nodded, taking the bottle from Winona, pouring the spicy liquid down his throat with a sigh of admiration at the sight of his own work. Slowly, the dust settled, and after almost three minutes, the entrance was fully visible, the area in front of it completely cleared. Just as Winona had promised, the structure had withstood the blast, even though it was just made out of long, wooden poles, with a large, open gate in the middle of the cleared area. Oddly enough, Mikhael realized that there was no dirt or snow inside the ruin, despite the fact that the gates had clearly been left open for centuries. Actually, the inside seemed... intact. Gesturing for Ivan to fetch him a lantern, Mikhael was the first to enter through the gate, and in the light of his electric lantern he witnessed... the halls of Valhalla. An enormous room, both deep, wide and with far to the ceiling. Rows and rows of long tables, with thousands of stools placed along them, filled the room, and although everything was covered with dust, Mikhael could still see the silver dishes and wooden cups stand on the tables, one of each for each of the thousands of stools, and large platters that seemed to have once been used for carrying food for whoever dined here. And there, in the far end of the room, stood a single row of big armchairs, with regal-looking designs carved into the wood they were made of, but none of them seemed more impressive than the giant, majestic throne that stood in the middle of the row, with a small pillow in its seat on which a small, round, black pearl-like stone laid. "Amazing," Mikhael muttered, letting his eyes run over the area, "It's all here... This is the hall where the Aesir and the Einherjar had their daily feasts! And there, that is the armory, where the Einherjar got kept their weapons for when they went out in the valley outside to fight each other, only to be brought back to life at sunset! And that... that must be Odin's throne itself!" He gasped, staring at what was before him. "Either this is a very well made copy, or this really is Valhalla." |
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