Rebuilding Brangmar – Pt. 2

The anthropomorphic salamander, known on Nevre as a Salaman, had gathered together a high-quality jewel, three wax candles, a blank book bound with leather, a piece of off-white chalk, and a tinderbox.

As the salaman set about trying to light the candles the human girl approached and pulled out a lighter. She had taken it from her friend to stop him from smoking at RPG night, and she was glad she had it. She motioned to the salaman to let her handle the candles and lit them. The salaman looked at the device with awe, wondering how such a device functioned before he went back to his work.

The man with icy breath, known as a frost giant or Jotuun (Yotuun), saw the salaman clearing off the floor between the three equidistant candles and saw him attempt to write on the floor with the chalk. There must have been some sort of enchantment on the floor to keep dust at bay, however, as the chalk quickly disappeared. Realizing that he could help with the chisel his father had given him he approached the area and began carving the strange chalk symbols into the floor so when the chalk disappeared the carving remained.

When the salaman and the Jotuun were finished with the symbols the salaman attempted to remove the binding from the blank book. Looking up from his prayer to Nane the human in leather armor noticed the salaman struggling with the book. Finishing his prayer the warrior approached the salaman and drew his shortsword.

The salaman looked at the human, with fear in his eyes until he realized the handle was pointed towards him. He gingerly took the shortsword and cut the pages from the binding. After carefully giving the sword back the salaman spread the pages on the carved triangle filled with runes and muttered a few words in the arcane tongue of Nevre.

“What was that supposed to do, anyway?” The human female asked.

The Jotuun’s eyes filled with recognition. “Ah, he’s a witch. We can understand each other now!”

“First, I’m a wizard, not a witch. Second, this only lasts for a short time so let’s introduce ourselves and decide what to do.” The salaman grabbed a flask from his belt with one of the two arms growing between his shoulders and hips. “I’m Tribst, a salaman from the realm of Nevre.” He took a short drink of the flask and handed it to the human female.

Taking the flask from the salaman the human girl smelled it. “Oh, alcohol. I’m Erin, a human from earth.” She took a sip of the flask and handed it to the Jotuun.

“I’m a Jotuun from Jotunheim. The word realm apparently is something different here so I think you may know Midgard more easily than Jotenheim. My name’s Throbor.” He looked at the flask in his hand, held his breath so as not to freeze the leather, and took a pull from it before handing it to the human warrior. “Good stuff.”

The warrior took the flask and handed it back to the salaman. “I don’t drink alcohol. My father was a drunkard. I’m Aram and I’m from the realm called Yerkir.” He pulled a waterskin from his belt and drank from it then put it back on his belt.

“Well,” Erin asked, “what are we planning on doing?”

“I plan on exploring this world that’s free of the Æsir, but first we should figure out what rebuilding this city involves. I can build walls, but driving back these monstrous creatures may be beyond me.”

“Let’s scout the surrounding land and then come to a decision. Staying down here will accomplish nothing.” Aram motioned towards the open door.

“That’s true. We do need to know the surrounding land.” Tribst agreed. “What do you think, Erin?”

“Yeah, scouting is a good idea. Also, finding more protective clothing would be nice. These clothes are not very good protection.” She motioned at her t-shirt and jeans and then at Tribst’s robe.

“Yes, if we see more protective clothing we should take it. Let’s get scouting.” Throbor started for the doorway.

Tribst stepped in front of him. “First we come up with signals so when my spell ends we have at least rudimentary communication with each other.”

The four sat down and wrote down some signals and their descriptions on the loose pages littering the floor.

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