Chapter One

This is simply just an excerpt from the first chapter as I am still working on it. As said before originally this has been an assignment for a game design class, but I am transforming it to a novel.

The worlds are aging. With each sun that sets and rises they become one step closer to Ragnarok. Some have been making themselves prepared, while others sit  in ignorance. Where were the gods? Just sitting high above in their hallowed dwellings of Asgard, while the nine realms simply hung in the balance of impending doom? Rumors have been circulating that Odin, the great wanderer, has been doing just that. Gallivanting his way through the world of man, trying to gain what he believes is knowledge, while the other gods go on about their business. What is to become of the races of beings, the creatures of the realms?

            Lassewinta holds tight to the goblet in front of her. She lets her hands warm to the cup full of mead. The tavern was roaring with drunken men, giggling bar wenches, and the occasional brawl. It took everything inside of her to center her mind just to her own thoughts, the noise dulling her senses and creating weak spots in her aura. She must keep her senses sharp, no matter the cost. She had only stopped briefly in the tavern to gain some warmth before getting back on her way through the realms. Lassewinta scanned her eyes across the tavern at the men; their idiocy and naivety amazed her. She reached up to rub her ears bound with cloth tightly under her hair. The humans of Midgard had not seen one of her race before, and she did not care to take a chance in seeing their reaction to her Elven state of being.  The ignorance of man potentially leading to her demise was not a risk she was willing to take. The pointed tips of her ears ached under the tightly wrapped bindings, so much so that she could feel the pacing of her heart high up into each one. She told herself to ignore the pain. Better she feel the aching of the binds than the pain of torturing that could occur if her presence was made known.

            Her senses felt as though she was on fire. Someone was watching her, all too closely. She had begun to feel the stranger as soon as she walked in, but a brief lack in judgment had her focused more on food and warmth than the potential predator. For a moment she told herself she was just simply on edge, but after carefully scanning the bar she noticed a stranger in a dark cloak, nearly hidden in the shadows of the corner booth. Though she could not see his eyes under the dark shroud of his cloak, she knew his eyes were on her. She reached out with her mind to study his intentions, but to her surprise and horror, her read came back with nothing. This left her both uncomfortable, and dangerously intrigued.

            Suddenly her concentration broke, when to the right two Nord’s stood up, their chests almost touching and their faces reddened with rage. From the looks of their anger, the hands moving towards their broad swords, and the large busted wench watching in horror in the corner, Lassewinta assumed the argument had something to do with the human woman. She nearly cracked a smile at their animalistic behavior. Her empathic skills began to kick in as the men’s tempers built, and her head began to rush as her senses heightened and her abilities were eagerly awaiting their chance to come out and play. With her mother’s skills of empathy and healing, and her father’s gifts for destruction and ruthless nature, if given the opportunity, no one in this tavern would stand a chance. Her cover would be blown and nothing more than a pile of bodies would be left in her wake. Judging by the tiny flickering light now exuding from her fingertips, she realized now was a good time to be back on her journey. Thankfully the fight had caused enough of the scene that she would easily not be noticed as she slipped away. She felt out for the gaze of the stranger, but felt nothing. Feeling she was in the free to move, she tossed a couple of coins on the counter, no doubt over paying for her mead, and pulled the hood of her cloak close to her face.

            The stars were out tonight, and despite the darkness, she felt much safer in her travels when she could not be seen. Shortly after leaving the tavern she had purposely strayed from the manmade trail and headed North into the forest. Though she ached for the beauty of her homeland, she had to admit that the gods had created just as much beauty here in Midgard. Taking her attention away from the stars and back to the journey ahead she moved onward through the woods and towards her goal.

            Since her banishment she worked hard to keep only one thing in mind, revenge. She thought of her tyrannical father sitting high at the Castle Draril, upon what should be her throne, all the while watching as her people starved and suffered from below. Under her father’s rule Liliandril, suffered terribly, famine and sickness reigned while his kingship wallowed in the sorrow and his draugr roam the land freely. The filthy blood trader had shared his soul with the blood of the frost giants in order to ultimately gain more power. Though she was considered nothing more than a half breed, she knew why she was banished to the realm of man, because deep within the iced heart of her High Elf father, he knew she would be the bringer of his demise. Before her birth a seer had prophesied that she, Lassewinta, would not only kill him, but also seize control of Liliandril. Although hoping for a male heir to rule along side him, her father was left in horror when the bjargrýgr, had announced the birth of a daughter instead of a son. He immediately had her mother killed, and later claimed she had died within childbirth.

            Though having hopes that his b*****d child would have some good use, he kept the child conceived between he and the kidnapped Wood Elf High Priestess. By her coming of age, however, she had showcased such immense power, that out of both fear and hatred he had banished her to the realm of man, hoping their ignorance would leave her for dead, bleeding red in the white, fallen snow. He would be wrong though. Lassewinta had adapted, and become stronger than before, and now as she continued on her way through the woods she knew that one-day she would return to Liliandril, and his blood would be on her hands. Her face became determined as she moved on towards her goal.

            “I hope you’re ready for my visit, dear father.” She spoke quietly to herself as she trekked throughout the brush of the forest. 

Author's Note

Please ignore grammatical and spelling errors as this is completely a work in progress. Please focus on the overall storyline and concept, thank you!