The Dragon Killer Sagas: Sigmund son of Völsung

Oh, the terror! With glowing serpent eyes the dragon Fafnir raises out of the water, his form no longer serpent, but now that of a Jötunn. On his dark face is a great foaming tangle of white sea slush and his powerful body is scaled with the rich blue of ice and water.

His strength has been bestowed by the Gods.

His anger is for what was taken.

With a mighty crash he brings the sounds of hell and death down on the sailors. His fist strikes many of karves, sending men flying into the freezing waters. They will not rise to the surface again to fight this horror, no, instead they now seek a seat at Odin’s feast in Valhalla.

The air is filled with screams and battle.

Battle is glory and this battle will be sung about forever.

With blood rage the ringing clang of swords beat on the beasts armor. The din is deafening, but not a slice or puncture does damage, but death is dealt with each of the creatures blows.

Yet the vikings fight on.

Death be yet another adventure.

They not fear its advance.

Kharmic or not.

“The Jötunn bastard will not stop until the return of his treasure,” it is an obvious comment by the man to the Kings left. He will stand there till death makes it impossible. They are brothers. Not just of battle but of womb.

“And I should have taken his head also.” says King Sigmund, the Vǫlsungr, the son of Rerir. They look on the battle with stoicism, soon they will join the fray, but first the king makes a plan. Death may be glorious, but not necessary.

He watches the battle from the bow of his own longship, which hangs low in the water under the weight of his theft. A great treasure that he has no plans on letting the dragon carry back to where it was got.

In Sigmund’s hand is the sword called Bran. The blade glows blue with the power of Odin and is shaped like a bolt of lightening. It was made to kill Gods and Sigmund flexes his fist around the pommel in readiness to kill this ungodly creation.

On his head is the Helm of Awe. On his chest is the golden mail.

His heart is battle hardened and his face is set in rigid acknowledgment he may dine with Odin today, but first things first, ‘For glory, brother.” and with a salute he dives into the freezing cold waters beneath him to begin his attack.

With a resolute sigh his brother follows.

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