Chapter 1: Chapter I
Deep in the recesses of the High North, in an all-white land of tundra and icy winds, Daimion Sadavir Adair roused himself to awareness from his long slumber. Flat on his back and covered in a sheet of pure white snow, he felt the real chill of the north the moment he came to.
"Ahhh, fucking dimensional travel," he moaned groggily.
Daimion shook the rust from his bones as he shivered due to the bone piercing draft. With his snow coat gone, Daimion took a moment to collect himself.
Using the power within him, Daimion was able to warm himself to a comfortable temperature.
"So I can still use Mana in this new world. No, this is different." he thought.
Daimion proceeded to push himself upright from the ice-cold earth and sat in the lotus position. With the energy that coursed through his body, Daimion was able to get a clear grasp of his physical condition.
' I seem to be in perfect health.' he thought as he examined his body while in a meditative state. ' I guess it's time to look deeper.'
Daimion went deeper and traveled along his arcane veins to look for any defects. The Arcane Veins simply served as the same function for Mana as blood vessels do for blood. Along the arcane veins or mana pathways, there are 108 gateways. Gateways control the flow of Mana like valves, and within those gateways are four cardinal points that contain the body's limits.
Daimion examined every bit of his pathway and was relieved when everything was alright. His biggest worry was the four cardinal points.
No matter the route Daimion took along the arcane veins, it all led back to the Mana pool. Like a great sea as far as the eye can see, not a shore insight is the best way to describe the Mana pool. It seems the merger was successful, after all.
Not the way I had hoped, but well enough. Daimion reflected on the vast Mana pool he observed within him.
'What next. Ahh, I should figure that out.'
Daimion formed a series of hand seals ending with the dragon seal. His Mana erupted and coated him in a golden-crimson aura, orbs detached from his body and revolved around Daimion like planetary bodies. The spheres quickly underwent a nature transformation, representing all of Daimion's elemental affinities.
'Earth, Fire, Water, Wind, Lightning, and M-Metal?' Daimion was shocked.
Lightning and wind was something he had always had after his trip to Asgard in his old world. However, metal was something far more advanced. Metal required the combination of three elements, an occurrence that is extremely rare in his ancient world.
'The elements are useful, but I lost my Divine Artifacts and the chance to become the next Ouroboros. But I still have an immense Mana pool and an advanced elemental ability. Though I'm trapped in another world. Fucking great… If I had known this would happen, I would have kept the two artifacts separated..' Daimion sighed.
His Mana then calmed down, causing the elemental orbs to vanish. Daimion threw his head back and fell softly into the snow.
"Why the long face, kid? I pulled you from that horrible place and saved you from the brink of death. Why complain about what you don't have?" A deep, aged, and masculine voice boomed over the blizzard's loud sounds that covered the land.
"Leave him be, R'hllor. You should have minded your own business and let him die to begin with. How he reacts is the direct result of your meddling." The voice of a wise man spoke this time.
"Now, we have to intervene because you always manage to fuck shit up." Added a soft feminine voice.
"How about you all fuck off my Territory!" an angry combination of my voices spoke as one.
"Look what you've done now, Boy. You've woken the old ones!" the wise man chided R'hollor.
Daimion looked around frantically as he heard voices but couldn't feel anyone present.
Boom! A massive flash split the blizzard and revealed an old man, a middle-aged bearded man, and a beautiful dark-haired woman with olive-brown skin.
Daimion's eyes widen, and he looks behind him to see another group of thirteen people walking in unison. Both groups had the same destination, his location.
Daimion lept to his feet, and his Mana fluctuated while he took a fighting stance.
"Relax, young one. You fell in my lands. You have my protection." the group of thirteen spoke as individuals but of one mind. They were many, but they were one. A fact that forced the three bickering bunch to tread carefully.
"Who are you, people?" Daimion asked.
"We are the 'Old Gods,' but the truth is we are just Gods. Neither old nor new. And since Westeros is in the hands of these three idiots. Our names are unimportant." They said.
"Now, now. Don't be like that. You lot have been ruling for more than 10,000 years. Unchallenged, I might add. We've all had our turns. And it's not our fault humans are more fickle than the races that came before." The wise man spoke.
"Haa, Fickle? Says the man that pitied hill people and performed a miracle with SEVEN different avatars of himself! So much energy, and old man seven hasn't been in touch with humans since." The old gods spoke.
R'hllor and the dark-skinned woman snickered.
"And you! You're just greedy. I remember when the elven folk ruled this planet and worshiped you as the sole Goddess. Now you're so greedy and narcissistic that you allow yourself to be praised under a different name. 'Mother Rohyne' Haa. You are a joke. And let us not talk about that boy and how his brother corrupted the last of the Children!" the Old Gods began to become furious.
"Aye! What my brother has done is not my fault! He showed them that magic, not I! It is his essence that fills the night king, not mine! I'm just trying to fix it!" R'hllor shouted.
Daimion looked incredibly lost. "Can someone please just tell me what the fuck is going on?"
"Answer the boy, R'hllor!" everyone shouted at him, and R'hllor pouted. He took a step towards Daimion, and the Old Gods moved two steps closer, causing R'hllor to freeze.
"Okay, I get the message… And you. You ungrateful snake. I pulled you from that horrid dimensional gap. You floated by our world, and I watched for a while as the big weird looking Dragon used its power to protect you and nourish your body. But he eventually died. Left you with a lot of that foreign energy, though. The dimensional gap had started to eat away at you, so I saved you," Said R'hllor.
All of the gods scoffed and groaned. "Tell him what you did, boy! Or we'll seal you up for 10,000 years!" Mother Rohyne ordered.
R'hllor rolled his eyes. " The dimensional gap is like a highway that connects kingdoms across the continent and all the little towns and big cities along the way. The towns are small. No one cares about them, so you don't have to pay for entry. But, big cities and capitals of kingdoms, on the other hand, have very stiff prices. The price to get you into this kingdom, costed a soul. And you are not a weak man."
"You sacrificed someone for me. Are you insane? I entered the dimensional gap prepared to die. That 'Big weird-looking Dragon' that you saw was a sliver of the Dragon of Eternity, Ouroboros! I was meant to merge with it, you dunderhead. And if I died in the process, so be it. The dimensional gap was a way to save my planet from the devastating energy of Ouroborous. You could have killed everyone on this planet, maybe even a few Gods here." Daimion explained, and all of the gods frowned and stared at R'hllor.
"Who did you kill? They had to have been important if all of you have come here."
"The savior. He was mean--"
Pow! R'hllor was smacked 1,000 miles away. "Seal him and let us be done with him. He's always been an impulsive retch, and he's run wild long enough." a seven-foot-tall Goddess spoke. Old man Seven tensed and was about to move, but great energy erupted from the old Gods' clan. Mother Rohyne held him back.
Two Gods moved and retrieved R'hllor.
"For the crimes of destroying a human civilization without cause, you are sentenced to 5,000 years imprisonment. For the crimes of obstructing magic and causing the near extinction of the dragon race, you are sentenced to 5,000 years because we liked the dragons, you little shit.
And for the crime of interacting with the world laws to bring a foreign entity to this world by sacrificing the messiah, that WE ALL agreed on. You are sentenced to 10,000 years because you have thoroughly fucked the world's fate and we just don't like you. So thank you, R'hllor, for giving us a reason to lock your arse up." The Goddess made her decree, and R'hllor vanished with two gods.
The Goddess looked to Mother Rohyne and Old Man Seven. "Tell him of Azor Ahai's destiny and then be on your way. You will have no contact with him whatsoever. This is why we made a pact to stop fucking with the world laws. The future is now unknown, and that is embarrassing because we are deities. And he was stripped of his free will. We will not impede on him any longer."
Boom! The Old Gods vanished, leaving Daimion behind with Mother Rohyne and Old Man Seven. The trio starred at each other for a moment, then Old Man Seven spoke.
"R'hllor was reckless, but I liked the boy a lot. I was there when he was born. And I'm sure he brought you here for a reason. He knew this would be his last straw, and he did it anyway. I have to believe that you are here for a reason. With that being said, Azor Ahai was a hero that was chosen from amongst many to return. His purpose was to stop the long night. But to do that, he had to first unite Westeros and lead them against the Night King."
"After the death of the Night King. Azor Ahai would rule for many years until it was time for the final battle against the Great Other. R'hllor's brother. He left a sliver of his dying essence in the last Elven boy more than 10,000 years ago. He lives off of death and chaos. It makes him stronger. Your job is now to stop them. Now let's go, Seven. Before they lock us up as well," Said Mother Rohyne.
Old Man Seven chuckled. "I miss R'hllor already. And we both know he will disperse his essence before he serves this sentence alone."
Mother Rohyne's eyes went solemn as she just turned away.
Daimion squinted, but he was far below the power of a God. Even though he could feel the energy fluctuation around him, he couldn't do a thing about it.
Snap!
Old Man Seven rubbed to fingers together, and a force knocked Daimion on his ass. While he fell, a seven-pointed star was branded into his chest.
The Old Gods appeared in a flash and disappeared just as fast. When Daimion's pain dulled and he gathered his bearings. He found himself alone in the winter world.
Daimion laid there, pulling at his hair. "Fuck this!" he shouted.
He then relaxed and thought about the upside, the gift of continued life.
Thumb! Thumb Thumb!
Daimion clutched his chest in pain. The painful feeling soon abated, but what was left behind was a will within the seven-pointed star. An urge that forced Daimion to his feet.
Though Daimion walked, he had no idea where he was or if he was walking along death's road. But he walked regardless; for a total of eight days, he walked naked and barefooted. The mad blizzard finally ended, and Daimion found himself surrounded by a destroyed camp.
Taking a deep sniff of the ruined camp. Daimion's enhanced sense registered everything. The smell of frozen food and some type of sweet ale, But nothing smelled as strong as the smell of blood and metal. Daimion furrowed his brow, and he looked around. Tents, food, ale, tables, and chairs.
"There are no corpses…"
Daimion had half a mind to keep pushing on until he came to his senses. He took a good look at his naked body, and though his Mana pool was vast, he knew that it would not last forever. He hadn't the slightest inclination of when he would find some sort of civilization.
Walking to the vacant tents, he discided to take a look for supplies. As he explored, he hummed Lugia's song from Pokemon: The Movie 2000. It was a movie that he enjoyed watching in his old world and a piece he enjoyed listening to even more.
The only time he stopped his song was to drink the ale left behind the camp's previous occupants.
Taking a gulp straight from the barrel, Daimion tilted his head back, and he registered something that he had initially missed. "This was not a battle," he muttered.
Daimion had taken notice of the inside of the tent's bloodstains. "It was a slaughter," he added.
The place had finally managed to unnerve Daimion. Because as he realized the truth of the ransacked camp. The sent of corpses attacked his nose, yet, there wasn't a corpse insight.
He sniffed the air again and attempted to follow the scent—tent by tent, he checked. Even the tents he had already looked through had been revisited. Not knowing the powers of the alien world he was now in. Daimion decided to leave.
Clothes, food, and drink be damned. Daimion wasn't one to wait for death. And if necromancy was the source of the horrid stench, then he wanted no part of it. He hated necromancers, the way the defiled corpses for the sake of power was brilliant, but it turned him off.
Focusing the Mana in his feet, he sprinted off without the least bit of hesitation. Nearly 2 miles away from the camp, Daimion was forced to a stop. The Mana from his feet connected with something beneath the snow.
Daimion now felt a slight disturbance. When running on the snow, it was an even landing and easy to push off. Though what he had just felt upon landing wasn't even. Something had caused him to land deeper into the snow sheet by drawing in Daimion's Mana and disrupted his control.
'What is that?' he thought.
Looking towards the location of the brief connection. Daimion mana to his eyes. He could now identify the source as an abandoned, curved shaped long sword with a straight back. It strongly favored The Hobit's sword of Thranduil. Daimion used fire nature mana to melt away the snow that hid the blade.
"Magificent.." he swung the blade with deadly skill. "The blade is pristine, and the hilts made of...bone?"
Daimion scrutinized the blade for a while longer but pushed all of his questions away as they were irrelevant. The most important thing was how the sword was able to hold his Mana without destroying the blade. An ability that was reserved only for the most precious of metals in his homeland.
Keeping his Mana eyes active. Daimion sprinted away without restraint. By the end of what felt like another day, after crossing miles of ice and snow. He spotted magic within a few individuals a mere 50 miles from his location. With one last push, he arrived at the edge of the settlement.
Daimion studied the people of the white world. They all wore big fur clothing, had pale skin, and a wild look about them.
Primitive, he thought. Daimion crept until he found an empty tent. The tents were about 7 feet in height, made from animal skin and lumber. The outside was layered in a coat of snow from the recent blizzard.
Daimion slipped into the vacant tent and rummaged through the stuff but only managed to find a fur cloak.
Large, warm, fair enough, he inspected the cloak and then wrapped himself in it.
With one hand, Daimion held the fur cloak closed to conceal his nakedness, and his other hand held his sword. In the middle of the camp was the most giant tent. All of the small tents surround that one grand tent. Daimion took it as a sign of importance.
'I am in a foreign land with foreign customs,' Daimion thought, 'Maybe the chief or leader will be helpful.' Daimion walked for a while with the large tent as his sole focus.
The people present quickly noticed the young man with hair like crimson, white fire, and olive-brown skin. Characteristics that were unusual to their environment. They then saw the blade Daimion drug along the snow-covered ground.
Daimion realized that some of the young women looked pleased with his arrival, the older men smiled, and the young men clutched the hilt of their swords and axes.
'I just walked into something…' he thought.
With enough attention on him now. Daimion didn't want to know what would happen next, so he looked to a stranger. He stared deep into the man's eyes. "Where am I?" he asked in his native tongue.
The man looked confused, he looked to the people closest to him, and they all seemed to be confused by the Daimion's foreign language.
"I do not understand. What is this language that you speak?" the man asked.
Daimion's mind spun, and the man's language decoded itself in his mind.
But then he remembered that he received a lot of energy from Ouroborous. Mastery over language was the least impressive of his skills.
'This must be a new skill,' he thought as the language became fluent.
"Lingue Arcana was the language I spoke. I asked, where am I?"
The man frowned. He had never heard of any language called Lingue Arcana.
"This is the peak of Thenn Valley."
"Ahh, the person in that big tent. Are they in charge? Are they your leader?"
"Aye, he is. I'll take you to him, Foreigner."
When Daimion and the man arrived at the large tent. They walked in one by one and were met with what looked like a small war council. The men and women turned to look at the two intruders with hard stares, but they said nothing.
"What is this, Samuel?" Asked a man with long brown hair, a sharp face, and shrewd brown eyes.
"Foreigner," Samuel replied to the man as he pushed Daimion forward.
Daimion's hand slipped, causing the fur cloak to fall. Daimion stood in naked glory, putting many men to shame.
"Mind sparing some clothing for a lowly wanderer?" Daimion asked.
"Hmm," the man grunted and then gestured for some clothes that could fit Daimion.
The girl that sat quietly in the back of the tent quickly left. When she returned, she was holding a bundle of clothing that she gave to Daimion.
Daimion dressed and looked to the brown-haired man to finish their conversation.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Daimion Sadavir Adair"
"Strange name… Did you come here to steal a woman? Where are you from?" The man continued his questions.
"I like my name. Why would I steal a woman? They chase me wherever I go. And I'm from one of the four True Worlds, Jinro, a place very far here."
"Haa, women chase you. Good, Good. Unfortunately, I've never heard of this place called Ji-ro. Not here, Westroes, or Essos. So tell me, where is this True World, Ji-ro? Is this world not true, Wanderer?"
Daimion looked around at the staring people and then back at the man that was obviously in charge. The man looked the same, yet different from his fellow men. The man wore hard leather armor and leather bracers with his fur underneath. Daimion looked deep into the man's eyes, and the man felt his soul tremble.
"You're not like them…" Replied Daimion.
He then smiled and spoke in an old Norse tongue, "Where are you from, Boy?"
All those present frowned, but the man in charge looked too shocked. For he had heard the language, understood, and spoke the language before. But only in dreams and visions.
Those same dreams were the reason he had a right to lead the people. The visions gave him battle formations and wisdom. They gave him ideas that made his people think that he was touched by the Old Gods.
In the same foreign language, the man replied, " Where did you learn this language. Where is it from?"
"Ahh, you help me, and I'll help you. You tell me where I am and about this place. And I'll answer any question you ask, truthfully." Replied Daimion in the Norse language.
"What is this language, Uhtred!?" a burly man slammed his fist against a table.
Uhtred looked at the man and replied in the common tongue with an awe-stricken voice, "The language of the Gods."
The people in the tent recoiled in shock, then looked Daimion up and down.
"Leave us," Uhtred commanded before any could question him more.
When Daimion and Uthred sat alone. They began to converse in the Norse language to avoid being spied on. The two spent the rest of the night talking about Westeros, Essos, and the land beyond the wall. They talked about history, politics, kingdoms, and myths.
The next day, Daimion spoke of his world. He started with the only places that mattered at the moment. Scandinavia and Europe. Daimion deliberately avoids the talk of many worlds to keep the conversation simple. And like Uhtred, Daimion explained his world's history, politics, kingdoms, and myths.
Though, Daimion told Uhtred of his world all the way up to the 12th century and no more. From within Uhtred's mind, Daimion had seen the Viking raids and battles of Wessex. He figured it was best just to resonate with the man and save them both some time.
It was around half a day when the two men finished their talk.
"Is it odd that I believe you, Daimion?"
"Not at all. You remember your past life. At first, I thought I was thrust back in time. But now I see we are just two travelers. So from one traveler to another. I would like to go south to Westeros. I want to explore the seven kingdoms and, most importantly, leave this cold hell."
Uhtred looked at Daimion with serious eyes. "Hmm, I believe you, Daimion Sadair Adair. But I do not trust you. You can stay, but you will have to prove your worth like every man here. You can start by hunting your own furs. And returning those that you have borrowed. You have no more than a week," Said Uhtred.
"Go. Prove yourself, and then we can talk about the South," Uhtred added.
Uhtred believed that Daimion must have been sent by the Old Gods but did not want to seem too eager to incorporate him in his plans for the South.
Daimion nodded and took his leave. As he reached the tent entrance, Uhtred called out, "We share something that others do not. I believe it is fate. The last time I was bonded with a man, it coasted me more than I was willing to give. It will not be like that this time. You work, you earn, and maybe we can fight together in the shield wall."
Daimion smirked and then left the tent. Daimion knew that Uhtred was talking about Alfred the Great. But Daimion also founded it amusing that Uhtred thought he actually wanted to be friends or 'bonded' with him.
Daimion walked around for a bit, exploring the 'village' as Uhtred called it. Though, Daimion was dead set on calling it a camp. A gathering of mere tents no matter how sturdy they are.
Based on his newfound knowledge, Daimion understands that he was in a village high north of the Thenn Valley, close to the border of the land of always winter. A cursed land.
Walking around the camp. Daimion made his way to a free folk gathering. Daimion could see that Uhtred's danish ways had rubbed off on the free folk. They had formed a square. A raven-haired woman danced with a sword as she toyed with a brown bearded man.
Daimion picked up a cup of ale and watched as the woman settled her grievance with the man.
"What are they fighting for?" Daimion asked a nearby man.
"Ahh, Foreigner, everyone's talking about your arrival. The woman there, Diana, she has fallen in love with the new Magnar. She wishes to leave her husband. He has refused, so the only option is to form the square," He replied simply.
"The new Magnar, Uthred?"
"Aye, Uhtred. Diana answers only to the Gods. She says the Gods are telling her to answer to Uhtred. She proclaimed her prophecy six moons ago and prostrated herself before Uhtred. Her husband has been growing bitter ever since. Now she wants to part ways. We all know for who. Her husband chooses death before dishonor. "
Daimion listened closely and raised an eyebrow at the man's last words.
"Death. He knows she will kill him…" he muttered.
"Aye… and when she is a free woman, Uhtred will take her, and we will take the South." The man spoke with a high level of hope and excitement.
"Haa. The South for you is just lower north. So how much of the 'south' will you take." Daimion watched as the man digested his words.
"You're sharp, just like Uhtred, Foreigner. This tribe is blessed, but before you play adversary. You should talk to Diana and hear her prophecy. The Great Serpent is with us."
Daimion's eyes went wide. He said no more to the man and focused on the end of the fight between spouses. In the square, Diana gave her husband three quick pierces and the spun to sweep her husband's legs, putting him on his backside. The crowd went silent.
Diana looked around. Her hazel eyes stared daggers at the spectators.
She stabbed her sword into the ground and addressed them all. "6 moons ago! I stood before you all and told you that it was only right for Uhtred to be the next Magnar. T'was only right that he slew the fat lazy whoremonger of a chieftain and dispatched his family as well. It was for the good of us all. The next night I gave you a prophecy and swore myself to Uhtred and have been his ever since. And instead of divorce and abiding by the will of the Gods. This man chooses the square. And now he pays with life. I take back my heart flame! So that I may gift it to the man chosen for me by the Gods."
Diana snatched her sword, yanked it free from the earth, and drove the blade into the man's skull, ending his life.
Daimion finished his cup and moved to have words with Diana, as the free folk dragged away the fresh corpse.
Diana entered a crowd of fighting women like herself, known as Spearwives. When Daimion approached, the Spearwives stopped their conversation and faced Daimion as if they were protecting Diana from him.
"I wish to speak to Diana."
"She does not wish to speak with you, Outsider." The woman had a fire about her that made Daimion smirk.
" And who are you to speak for her?" he asked, amused by the stunning woman.
"Her Sister, Ingrid," she replied with venom.
"Raven hair, hazel eyes, and full, soft, luscious pink lips," Daimion spoke, and Ingrid's checks sported a slight blush, or she was just a bit cold.
"Cold beauty, you must be her twin," he added.
Ingrid swallowed like she had a lump in her throat. "Her younger, Outsider."
Daimion chuckled. "Outsider, Outsider. My name is Daimion. And if I can't see your sister, then maybe you can help me."
Daimion took a step closer and lowered his voice, "Tell me, Ingrid. Where can I find the nearest hunting grounds? And what is it your people hunt? The common, the rare, and the legendary."
Daimion figured it would be best to use his power to build a reputation than to infiltrate tents for a prophecy that may be bogus. It also risks causing a misunderstanding with Uhtred. For now, Daimion decided to play nice.
"Just tell him and send him on his way, Ingrid," Diana shouted from within the tent.
Daimion smirked. Ingrid rolled her eyes and walked away. After a few steps, she stopped and looked back at Daimion. "Are you not coming...Outsider?"
"Aye, I am," he replied and followed Ingrid along with a few Spearwives.
When they arrived at Ingrid's tent. They found warmth and ale inside.
"So, You want to hunt? Let me be frank, Outsider. The way we honor warriors is almost entirely based on his hunting status. Common will be our hunters. They hunt things any man can kill in single combat, foxes, Svalbard Reindeer, Dall sheep.
Every warrior must prove himself by killing a Direwolf, but they often travel in packs and makes things difficult. But if you want rare, very rarely does a man return with a snow bear that he has slain by himself, and Never has a man returned with a Mammoth by himself. Mammoths stand a little over 20 feet tall and are about 15 feet wide and nearly 20 feet long. They say that only a group of giants can bring them down."
Daimion didn't even have to think about it. He knew he could bring down a Mammoth. Not just to prove his worthiness to Uthred, but to impress, Ingrid. It's not every day that a man is gifted with a second life. Daimion decided to use it well.
"How long will a Mammoth feed this village?" Daimion asked in a serious tone.
Ingrid looked at Daimion with much doubt. "You can never kill a Mammoth on your own. You have to also consider the Giants that covet the Mammoths. Some worship and others consider them the most valuable treasure Beyond the Wall."
Daimion nodded his head. 'I guess that would be a little much.' he thought. "Where do the Snow bears frequent?"
"Towards the mouth of Thenn Valley. But if you want to hunt, you should take a party. The Thenn Tribe are filthy men. They eat the flesh of other men and fuck their sisters. But they are deadly in battle and shouldn't be taken lightly." Said Ingrid.
A bowl of some type of stew was handed to Daimion by a blonde-haired woman.
Daimion graciously accepted the meal. The woman smiled and handed a bowl to Ingrid before taking a seat. "You should hire men. Many warriors are looking to make a name for themselves, if not for furs and many meals. Here they are a source of survival, and out there, men will sell their wives and daughters for good fur or a decent sword for battle." Said the blonde-haired woman.
The Spearwives and Ingrid voiced their agreement as they ate.
"Where can I find such warriors?" Daimion asked with his mouthful of hearty, chunky meat.
The Spearwives smiled at each other and then looked to Ingrid. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "My Spearwives… As you know, they are women… Men don't like to hunt with Women. It draws unwanted attention and provokes raids by other men looking to find wives."
Daimion swallowed his food. " You want me to take them. You're their shield maiden?" he asked, a bit shocked.
Uhtred had told Daimion that it was sometimes custom for some Spearwives to form groups for protection and collective success. Their leader would be the strongest amongst them and be called a Shield Maiden.
What surprised Daimion was that Ingrid looked so young. About 17 or 18 years old. But then again, he didn't look much older, either.
"Aye," Ingrid stared Daimion down.
Like many others, she expected Daimion to have some reason about how they never thought a girl like her could be called a Sheild Maiden.
Daimion quietly ate a few more spoon fulls of stew as he weighed his options, 'At least with Spearwives, they witness my kill, aid in my fight against this Thenn Tribe of cannibals, and my reputation will grow faster. I also have no idea what powers are wilded in this world. Uhtred said magic. but I also use magic, but I'm sure our magics aren't the same.'
"They can come. I would like them to come. I also want to leave in the morning," said Daimion.
The Spearwives voiced their thanks and made their way out of the tent.
"That's only five. Will that be enough for this hunting party?" Daimion asked Ingrid.
"For you, it'll have to be. You were gifted furs when you arrived. Folk will expect you to hunt for your own, except many would like to see you fail, Outsider. Others will see you as an easy mark and kill you once the huntings over."
"So, there is no honor in this tribe?"
"None, Outsider. We are free here. Free from the invisible chains of honor and duty, we live how we wish. But I swear my women only wish to hunt the snow bear. It can feed us for weeks." Ingrid finished her bowl of stew and stood up.
"Uhtred gifted your furs, but you have to hunt your own. You can sleep here tonight. But you will need to build your own tent when you return."
Ingrid then left the tent after showing Daimion where his spot to sleep was. The spot was up against the wall of the tent but near the door. It was, without a doubt, the coldest spot in the tent.
Ingrid had given him one fur blanket to sleep with, but he hadn't slept for days and was just thankful.
Daimion pulled the blanket over his body and drifted into a peaceful sleep.
As he slept, miles away in the South, a red comet graced the night sky. It was seen in Westeros by all Seven Kingdoms. It was seen in Essos by all the Free Cities, Kingdoms, and the Dothraki Sea.
Across the lands, many took this as an omen for different things. But many saw it as the return of Dragons and Magic. Some took it seriously while others looked no further than the red comet's beauty before forgetting the celestial event moments later.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
D_Blackwell
D_Blackwell Don't focus too much on his previous world. More information about the previous world will be reveled as Daimion grows stronger bonds and shares experinces with people.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone