The Call of the Thunderbolt [Donovan/Perun Black Ticket]

[Perun]

Thunder boomed and echoed across the mountaintops at the center of Elibe. The occasional bolt of forked white lightning crashed against the peaks and faces of the mountains as the rain poured heavily against the bleak black mountains that seemed devoid of paths but few and life but fewer. As the lightning cut through the darkness of the overcast afternoon, a pair of travelers cut there own way up an ancient path, known to none but the old man who had instructed them to follow it.

Perun had his massive hood pulled up around his mangy hair and bush beard, keeping him mostly dry save for the tip of his nose which jutted past even the protection of his hood. At his side was his silver-tongued Liar, Donovan. The two had come to the mountain in search of a legend, and only on the basis of an ancient map happened upon in a broken ruin had they found this path. Their journey would hopefully end with a tomb, one dedicated to a man unknown to the world outside of Perun's valley, but the greatest legend of his own people. His namesake, the original Perun, the Original Thunderbolt. The man who according to a prophecy he'd never put much stock into, the living Perun was the rebirth of. A visit from an enemy to the Clan Volsungg had made it clear the others put stock into it, and having barely escaped with his life, the Orange Giant had chosen to try and find any sign that there was nothing that linked him to the legendary Giant who had once crushed the earth in his hands. And for that, with his best friend in tow, Perun Volsungg of clan Volsungg tore his way up the slick mountain.

Eventually, he was shocked to spy it, an indent in the rock, and pulling his friend with him, he was in front of it almost as soon as he saw it. "Duno-ven, Perun is not be being able to believe..." In front of him was what looked like a massive door made of the same stone that held up the very mountain they stood upon. Written all across it was the script of his people, long faded. However, the words he could make out told him what he needed.

The Thunderbolt-
Of the land-
Here-
Perun, the Thunderbolt, champion of Erushaihe, defeater of-
Once the-
Perun who will come again.

"Duno-ven, are you being need a rest?

[Donovan]

It had been a long journey. Not as long as the trip to the Laus with the kids took, but in a sense more difficult. Finding the path to take and the right mountain to journey to wasn’t easy. They’d had to ask around small villages so old they were still led by shamans and chieftains. Eventually, they found an old man who said he knew exactly what the map meant. Exactly where it was pointing to. And he warned them not to go there. So naturally Don and Perun went there anyway.

Don knew the old man’s directions would be sound when he saw the way stone marking the path. It was even bigger than the one in Laus had been. It felt right to bookmark the path that ended this part of their journey with the same marking that started it. Of course the path was up a mountain side with a thunderstorm making it extra unstable and dangerous. But they made it, somehow, to what looked like an enormous gate into the side of the mountain.

The Thunderbolt. Perun. Again it seemed like his friend’s name was being thrown around as if by some mystical force. “Let’s get out of this rain, yeah. Take a breather inside, before you get struck by lightning.” wink The mercenary’s cloak was soaked to through to his skin. He just wanted to get out of the weather before they got sick. He placed both hands on one of the great stone doors and began to push, but found it didn’t budge an inch. Sighing, he gestured to the Giant. “Looks like you’re up.”

[Perun]

With a smile, Perun said, "Duno-ven should not be bein sad," he placed a hand on both portions of the stone door, on either side of a crack that ran up in the middle. He gave a grunt, but as his massive frame pushed against it, the stone gave way, and slowly began to slide back. "Iz being made by Perun's people. Most in valley wouldn't be being to open." As he finished, Perun could no longer continue to push the door, and he assumed that the door was done. The giant was unsure as to why he believed the tomb to have been built by the people of his valley, but surely it must have been. How could people from the larger world have the gaul to entomb the legend of his people? If they had even heard of him, Perun would find it hard to believe on of his people wouldn't have dragged the bones of the ancient warrior back to his valley. If a tomb was all this place was, with no answers for Perun, maybe the Giant would do just that.

Thunder boomed behind him, and Perun looked over his shoulder, casting his eyes down the mountain. A bolt of white hot lightning struck the rock face, and Perun could almost feel the Earth beneath him shake. "Yes, let us being heading inside." Before he could go to move, a harsh gust of wind blew past the pair of mercenaries. Perun looked back out of the indention, and hurried over to what he spied just a bit further up the mountain. With some strain, Perun carried back a thick stone, about the size of his torso. He set it down in the doorway, against the left door, then with a small smile said, "Now iz be being better." The giant headed inside.

His chest was clutched with a feeling of unease, as it had been since he first picked up the map. He looked down a short hallway, the sides close to him in view, but the middle of the hallway cast in darkness. At the end he could see there was a light shinging in from above, but it was clear that he could only see the corner of another room. As Perun looked at the wall, he recognized that they were carved with images. Images of the Thunderbolt Legends. The first was a carving of a boy with wild hair riding a bull while gripping its horns. On the exact other side was a picture of that same boy chained to a rock in front of a massive sea monster. Before Perun could inspect any of the others, he heard a crackle, like Lightning, followed by a voice deeper than any he'd heard before, speaking the language of his valley.

<"Who enters here? Know that if you come further, my rath will strike you down.">

[Donovan]

With immense strength that should not have been possible by anyone, the Thunderbolt pushed the enormous door open. Donovan would have marveled at his friend’s impressive strength, had a bolt of lightning not struck nearby and the less than pleasant though of electricity coursing through his body entered his mind. Perun placed a rock in front of the door in order to make sure the wind did not blow it open. Though Donovan doubted that any gust of wind would be strong enough to close that monster of a door.

Donovan reached into his satchel and pulled out an unlit torch that had managed to stay dry enough to use in this dark, cavernous tomb. He went to work with some flint and the steel dirk he kept on his belt, trying to get a spark to catch. When he’d managed to finish his task, he stood, the torch in his left hand and went to the wall to see what Perun had been staring at. He looked at the first couple very closely and they seemed familiar. Don might not have placed them had it not been for the context of their journey to this seemingly impossible tomb. “These are pictures of him, aren’t they?”

And suddenly something rang through the tunnel unlike anything that he’d ever heard except for the thunder they’d just heard outside. Donovan spun to face down the tunnel and drew his ancient sword. But this, again, was vaguely familiar. It wasn’t the type of sound it was, but the - well - the words that seemed to be forming from it. They were words Donovan could swear he’d heard Perun say before. Some of them at least.

And then he looked down. Now, Fragarach had always been a strange sword. The first time Perun had tried to pick it up, it had flung itself off a staircase. It radiated a strong displeasure overtime Donovan lied. It even seemed to have a slight glow, a faint, dull green that always drew Don’s curious eye. But this was beyond any strange experience he’d ever had with his sword. The twisted runes that were stained into the strange metal that made up the blade were radiating a bright emerald light. Bright enough that he didn’t even need to hold up the torch as a source of light. He turned to look at Perun. “This all is very, very strange, isn’t it?”

[Perun]

When his young friend lit the torch, Perun was treated to more of the carvings on the wall, of the original Perun. The next on the left wall was still of the first Thunderbolt when he was only a boy, and the story was one that was familiar to the man of the valley. Being chased by a massive serpent, the young Thunderbolt jumped and sprinted, until he had woven the snake into a massive knot, that he then rolled into the sea. On the opposite wall was one of the tales from the Thunderbolt's coming of age, when he found the floating city of glass, crystal, and gold. Still more lined the walls, and Perun didn't doubt that each inch carved into the stone would line up perfectly with one of the stories held dearly in the heart's of his people. "Yes Duno-ven, iz being Perun Gromoverzhets. Iz being Thunderbolt."

That was when the voice came with its warning, and Donovan produced Fragarach, his blade of gales, which seemed to shine as Perun had never seen before. Something about this place, this hollowed mountain tomb resonated with the ancient blade, and Perun's heart plunged ever deeper. "Iz be stranger than strange Duno-ven. Iz how you say... Eye-ry." The giant had not moved a muscle since the voice of Thunder boomed through the tomb, echoeinng down the hall to his ear. He had to now, he was Perun Volsungg of Clan Volsungg, and he was not afraid of a voice in the dark. The things that went bump in the night resigned themselves to the shadow, and his massive strength had always been enough to drag them out.

With a great battle of will, Perun began to take the bags off his back, setting all things he carried save the axe of a Volsungg raider to the side. Even his bow, the elm and the mystic Fail-Not he set aside, even when the voices that filled the bow cried in his head that he would need it. He snapped the clasp off his cloak, and cast it to cover his belongings, so that he stood in naught but his boots, trousers, and vest. With great purpose he pulled his axe from his belt, setting both hands to the haft.

"Duno-ven, inside is be something iz not want us to step inside. Only Perun should be going in, unless Duno-ven is being sure will follow." When he recieved his answer, Perun made the trek down the hallway at a snail's pace, looking the walls up and down as he went. He saw many of the legends he couldn't hear enough as a child, The Thunderbolt and the Burning Bridge, The Thunderbolt and the Jaguar Queen, The Thunderbolt Conquering the Typhoon, The Tearing of the Glacier, The Thunderbolt and the Siren's Song, The Jewels of King Danica, and a few others. To his surprise, a number of legends seemed left out, with the last inscription being of a tale that most in his valley believed could not have come after Perun had seen some twenty-eight winters. Still, they struck Perun, and sent the chill growing on his spine climbing at a faster pace.

Finally, they entered what seemed to be the main chamber. Unlike the hallway, the stone was carved perfectly, so that the whole of the room was a perfect rectangle, the walls and floor completely smooth. The floor was traced with symbols, symbols Perun recognized. They were Thundermarks, signs of the Thunderbolt meant to ward off bad luck and demons. They littered the floor, carved in a pattern at a size Perun had never seen. In the center of the room, there was a sarcophagus, a massive rectangle box of stone, ten feet long and four feet wide. Along the sides of the coffin were the missing stories from the hallway, the ones of Perun the man.

Turning to spy the rest of the room, Perun saw against the wall farthest from the hallway there was a massive throne, with three steps leading up to it. It was wide enough that had he sat its seat, Perun believed he would have felt small, and its back reached the ceiling. Across the entirety of its back descending in a diagonal weave was carved in great detail the final legend of the first Perun, when he rode the Black Dragon Almawt to his death. Each piece of the story was represented, the scenes moving slowly through the story.

Then Perun looked to the final pieces of note in the chamber. A massive circular hole was cut in the ceiling, that let a faint light cascade in that managed somehow to light the whole of the room. With the light fell the rain of the storm, that even now created a massive boom of Thunder that could be heard overhead. Looking up through the hole, Perun saw that the bolt of lightning that followed hit even closer to where they stood inside the mountain, only a few short yards from the mouth of the carved opening.

He finally looked down from the hole, and there it was, a cylinder of stone rose from the floor, and gripped an axe, that stood perfectly at attention. Its haft looked to be made of bronze, with leather wrapping that had long since faded to the howling wind and the pouring rain. The head was an odd steel, colored like gold, and carved into its sides the third symbol of Perun. Looking at the axe, the chill in Perun's soul seemed to slip away, but not for long. The crackle ran through the chamber.

<"Ah, your size marks you well. Tell me man of my home, are you one given my name. Do they call you Perun?"> The Giant's head spun around the room, looking for the voice. <"I am Perun Volsungg of clan Volsungg, named so by my father."> The crackle came fast, but the voice returned slow. This time to Perun's surprise, it spoke the common tongue. The voice was as heavily accented as Perun's own, but his vocabulary was clearly superior. "Hmmm. You have done well to reach me at all. And your companion, something about him strikes me. Perhaps you are worthy Volsungg. I am the first Perun. You stand in my tomb, the hall of the Thunderbolt."

[Donovan]

The pair stood very still after the initial voice of thunder rang through these forgotten halls. “Eerie’s a good word for it, Perun.” Donovan was afraid. He wasn’t fool enough to not admit that to himself. The situation reeked of, well, doom. But something pulsed in his chest. He could feel a current running from his arm to his heart to his mind and to his soul. Keep going.

So when his closest friend and comrade in arms said he was going in, with or without Donovan, the mercenary went with the current. The ever twisting and changing name that had found his lips in Laus rang clear once again. This was the path. This was where the wind blew. Both literally and figuratively. “What and miss all the terrifying, world shattering inevitabilities that lie in an ancient hero’s tomb with a spooky thunder voice? Not a chance.”

The player followed the Giant’s lead. He put the torch in a holder that the wall for some reason had whoever puts all these in these tombs and dungeons is really a life saver. Then he stripped off his soaked through cloak, he dropped his bag on the ground and removed his steel and iron dirk and dagger from his belt and boots. But still something did not seem right to him, and the current lead him to unstrapping his simple armor until he wore nothing but his boots, pants, belt, and a green shirt (a henley if anyone was wondering). Finally, he removed his belt and took Fragarach’s scabbard off the strip of leather before reaffixing it to his pants. He felt lighter, even if he felt more exposed. But somehow he didn’t think armor would help him at all in this tomb. He hoped that feeling was right.

The tomb itself seemed as if it came straight from the mythos of another world. The stories painted on the wall, the runes that riddled the floor. If he hadn’t been seeing it with his own eyes, the mercenary never would have believed what was in front of him. For a brief moment, Donovan wondered when he had stopped telling legends and started living one.

And then a bolt of lightning struck once again and the mercenary was shaken clean of his musings. When Donovan looked down again, he was nearly blinded by the light emanating from Fragarach’s Runes. Runes that were clearly of a different culture from that of the ancient Thunderbolt. Donovan leaned over and whispered to the Giant. “This place is having a pretty weird impact on the sword, Perun.”

Then the voice rang out once again, the only word Donovan understood being Perun. But after Perun responded, the thunder did something he never would have expected. It spoke Common. It spoke it quite well actually. And it mentioned him. Donovan, the mercenary with no last name, was unsure whether he should be honored or sh*tting himself.

[Perun]

Perun threw his head over to his friend, and looked down at Donovan's mystic sword. Fragarach was showing clear runes of an odd tongue, but they appeared completely on the surface of the blade. What could it be? The magicks of this place? Something in the rock? Whatever it was, it only added to the feeling of unease that was crawling across the Giant's fair skin. The voice now addressed them both, perhaps that was all. Maybe if he looked at Fail-Not where he left it, it's magic would be crackling and running wild as he spied it. However, he didn't have time to ponder it further as the voice broke back through, with the familiar crackle coming just before.

"Volsungg, why do you come here?" Perun's grip on his axe tightened, <"I have come seeking answers. My name appeared on an ancient map that led me here. There is a prophecy among my people, that one who bears your name will have to fight a great evil within our valley when he comes to a certain age, and that to fail will mean the death of all three clans. It is said that he cannot fail if he is truly you come again. I have come to find if the impossible is true, if I am you, and you are me."> There was no crackle, only a laugh then. A deep rolling laugh. "Well then-" Suddenly the crackling returned, but this time it focused on one point. Turning, Perun looked for the sound, finding it at the Axe where it stood.

The head was coated in lighting that danced around it in golden lines, crackling as they went though the metal seemed unaffected. With each passing second, more streams of the magic seemed to pour out, and shoot to the cieling before racing to rest high above the stone throne. As the axe stopped crackling, a massive ball of gold lightning swirled and cracked above the throne, before a small boom like Thunder came and sent the lightning racing down towards the chair. When it hit stone, there was a blinding flash, and Perun covered his eyes by throwing his sinuous forearm in front of his face.

When he removed the limb from his vision, he was greeted with a terrifying sight. A man sat the throne, a man so large he filled its seat, his thick arms resting on the arms of the throne comfortably. His torso to his head was so long that he was almost a full man again from the waist up. He wore no shirt, only trousers with a drape that covered most of his left leg and wrapped around the back. His body was a sight to behold. There was not an ounce of fat to be seen, but the man was thick. Each inch of him bulged with chords of muscle so sick they could tie down the wind. His ribs even were hidden from sight, and the only thing that obscured his body were the three tattoos. The biggest was a tattoo of the head of a red lion with a black mane that covered most of his chest and the top of his torso. On his right arm there wove a red dragon that wound around his forearms as it grew, its tail on the back of his hand and its head on his shoulder. His massive bulging shoulder was covered with the massive head of the dragon. The left was the same, but covered with a golden dragon of a different design. He was the largest man Perun had ever seen.

His face was like a stone carving. His nose was like a square, somehow bulging, flat, and wide all at once. His eyes were green and piercing like an Eagle, with thick eyebrows framing them. The most immediately noticeable thing was his hair and beard. They formed a thick red mane, the color of the sunset that framed his face, the beard all but covering his cheeks and jaw while his hair hung well past his shoulders. Woven into his locks were plates of gold and iron rings. Perun Gromoverzhets was a sight to behold.

The Thunderbolt stood, and his size became even more terrifying, he was at least three heads taller than Perun Volsungg. The Volsungg Raider's heart thumped rapidly, from fear, excitement, joy, idolation, all manner of things. Here he stood, looking at what must truly be his people's hero. He was real. Formed from Lightning right in front of him. He was real and he could tell Perun something of his fate.

"Let's see."

Raising both hands balled in fists, bolts of golden lightning expanded from both. The bolt in his right handed shifted and grew, settling in the exact shape of the axe stuck in the pedestal yards away from the massive man, but the one in the left remained the same. He took that, and with blinding speed hurled the bolt at Donovan.

[Donovan]

Fragarach started to hum as the voice spoke again. Donovan looked down at it in confusion. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that he needed to be here. That this was a task for the both of them. With a sudden blast of light, something was before them. Something that even Donovan — who’d seen dead man walk and spiders the size of wagons and men with the bodies of horses — could not explain. Before them stood a man. More than a man, really, for he was at the very least 8 feet tall. His chest and arms were coated in tattoos and muscle. His hair, nose, eyes, beard, and sheer size showed that he was clearly of the same valley Don’s friend was from. But Donovan couldn’t deny what seemed to be so clear to him. They were standing before a god.

The blade in his hand began to shake and vibrate erratically, when the Ancient Perun revealed themselves. But when the god stood, the blade immediately stopped vibrating. The light that it radiated immediately drained. And Donovan felt something move from the sword into him. Something he didn’t understand, but something that took over his very being. And as if it knew The Thunderbolt’s movement before it was made, Fragarach pointed at the ground and a powerful jet of wind flew from the tip of the sword. So powerful that Donovan’s body was flung from the ground and he flew across the room faster than he thought possible. Of course, the mercenary neither expecting, nor having the dexterity to react to such an action, slammed hard into the wall of the mountain tomb’s room. He stood to his feet and looked down at the blade as it swung in three rapid bursts of air that were sharp as a razor’s edge.

[Perun]

The Thunderbolt's brow lifted in surprise and a laugh like the booming storm left his throat. "HA! A trickster! A man of japes. What an odd choice, but not one I begrudge you." Volsungg was shocked to see that Donovan had sent himself flying back with Fragarach with blinding speed. It was as if he'd seen the bolts coming before they'd been thrown, and reacted with enough time to put himself safely away from their path. Then he saw his friend send more of the magic within his blade of gales sailing towards the massive Thunderbolt, and to his surprise the man did not get hit. With speed unnatural for one of his size, he dodged them, springing away from them with what appeared to a casual leap. However, on his face he wore a look of puzzlement.

Before the Volsungg knew it, the Thunderbolt was before him, staring down at him. In every conceivable way, the man of legend dwarfed his supposed reincarnation. Even among the Valley, Perun had been a big man, but the legend made the mortal appear a child. He raised his axe of Lightning, and swung it, in a strike that the hunter and raider saw as perfect. It would have taken a man in armor at his weakest point, but it was not just so that it would leave the man swinging it overexposed. Perun could not hop to block it or avoid it, it was all he could do to try. He failed.

The axe of the torn sky dug into his shoulder but did not tear his skin or spread his muscle. Instead the Lightning began to spread inside his body, shooting through his veins in a shock that put Perun in a degree of pain he had not felt since fighting the Reaper in Bern. Then it had been fire that boiled his blood, now he was electrocuted by his greatest hero. The Volsungg cried out, as the shock ran through his body. It was not a roar of strength, but a heralding of pain. The lightning of the axe disappeared as The Thunderbolt of lore let his hand open, and the shock began to leave Perun.

A hard right hit the Orange giant's jaw, and sent him reeling backward. With his vision blurred, the Volsungg could barely tell what was happening as the Thunderbolt held his hand above his head, and another bolt of lightning formed, before once more shaping itself into an axe, he wasn't sure if it was real, but the dragon on his right arm seemed to twist as the bolt changed. Once his vision was clear, Perun once more saw the massive maned warrior coming for him.

The axe hit him from the right side, and the shock was small, then the Thunderbolt let it go but drew his hand back. As he began to swing his empty fist toward Perun again, the bolt crackled into being there once more, the dragon danced, and again the axe bit into his flesh without a scar, but ran electricity through the smaller giant's body. As again his right arm flew back, and the bolt formed, both dragons danced, and the larger giant threw another bolt at Donovan still as he swung the shifting lightning again at Perun, this time for his neck.

Narrowly, Perun blocked the blow, by bringing his own axe of simple iron up to meet the mystic. The second the golden streams touched the blade, the axe ran through with shock, and Perun's arm flared before he dropped the weapon. "HA!" The smile that spread on the Thunderbolt's face was not that of a man hungering for blood, it seemed a familiar feeling to Perun. However, suddenly the Thunderbolt's focus shifted. He brought his fist against Perun's stomach, but this time the punch landed and sent the orange haired hunter to the ground.

Then the Thunderbolt was off, in a flash. He raced towards Donovan with speed unheard of, his right arm reaching out. As Perun watched, unable yet to rise, he saw a fourth tattoo on the back of the legend. An eagle, wings spread in flight with each wing tip resting on the back of his shoulders. However, as he ran with his prodigious speed, the eagle appeared to be flapping his wings. [PERUN OF OLD CELERITY X2 USED] He grabbed the Silver Tongue but kept his legs moving, until he had the trickster pinned to the tomb wall.

[Donovan]

Is he talking to me or the Little Giant? Donovan watched as the Thunderbolt dodged every single attack with relative ease before launching himself at Volsungg. Seeing the two together was like looking at Perun with Remus. Even the Giant was dwarfed by the God. With terror, Don saw Perun take a hit from the Thunderbolt’s axe, certain that his friend had received a fatal wound. The God was faster than anyone Donovan had fought before. But to his surprise, despite the anguished scream, his friend had no visible bleeding or gaping holes in his shoulder where the axe had struck.

Donovan began to sprint toward his friend, this time of his own volition. If he couldn’t hit the God with a ranged attack, he would have to get unclose and personal. But before he was able to make it halfway toward the melee, a bolt of lightning was flung at his direction. Don swung Fragarach at the ground and jumped, the gale sword releasing a powerful blast of air, that propelled him away from the bolt of electricity. He hit the wall with a jolt and tried to shake off the pain of smashing into the wall at such great speed. Still better than being struck by lightning, he supposed. Once more he made his way toward the melee.

“Little Giant! You must take his axe!” The voice that pulled from his throat was his. It had his tone and his pitch, but it was not his words. Or. Well. At least he didn’t remember thinking those words. Either way, it was sound advice. But in his distraction, Donovan was grabbed with massive force by the God who moved faster than Don had ever seen. Even Michael hadn’t run so quickly from their fight. And once again, Donovan was slammed against the wall the air knocked out of him. He felt his grip on Frag slip as he struck stone, but the air around the hilt seemed to adhere the weapon to his hand. refusing to leave his grip.

“Good to see you again, old friend. How has eternity been treating you?” Again the words weren’t his. But this time, no part of his mind could rationalize the words that had been uttered. So rather than choke to death waiting for an answer that made sense, Donovan thrust Fragarach forward, aiming to plunge the ancient blade into the God’s stomach as the air around the blade twisted and raged with the force of a tornado.