Prologue

Baldr ran in long, controlled strides; not short panicked ones like his guards and the 3 or 4 gods unlucky enough to be with him. He could hear the horses behind him, they all could. Thirty atleast he guessed. 200 years ago he would have laughed at the thought of humans attacking him, but since that wretched mortal Gekkon had stepped in the hole chain of command had been messed up. Mortals could kill gods now, and some of them had realised it. There were a few groups trying to kill the gods, but this was strong, efficient and as many lesser gods had found out, deadly.
They forced thier way through the thick mud, his yak-hide armour heavy with water. It had just been raining, and by the dark clouds which completely covered the sky overhead, it would soon be again. The horses were closer, and would soon be upon them, thier riders determined in getting thier millenium earned revenge. Sensing this, Baldr turned around, sending 4 lightning bolts blindly towards the horses, two of which found thier targets, sending both man and horse flying across the valley.
Baldr was a warrior and would usually have never been caught running from na opponent. But he was old, and the secret he had learned more important than even his honour. An arrow hit the guard net to him in the leg, and The king god ordered everyone to stop, in a voice so full of power that even the Vanir close to him was compelled to obey. There was no hope of reaching Valhalla before being caught, and knowing this, coupled  with the fury that had built up inside of him, he turned arround again the magic that was building up in him even turning the once  again pouring rain to hail; and with all his might, send a volley of fire ball towards the silhouetes he saw through the darkness. Most were dispatched before hitting anything but some struck true and the old god heard satisfying screams of anguish.
Every presant member of the norse clan was with him now, and all 23 drew thier weapons. The battle started with the attackers jumping fearlessly off thier horses, straight into thier enemy. 17 were dead in as many seconds, and more soon followed. The focus of the battle was Baldr, and nearly every enemy blade tried to find his throat. But he faught like a bear, bringing one man down with his sword and another with his fist at the beggining of the battle.
A tall thin man, with no armour leaped towards Baldr, turning into a snake while in mid air and back again once he was behind him. The man turned and cut a would deep into Baldr’s leg, forcing him onto the ground before being cut down by another of the gods who was hit by a fireball at that same moment. The wounded god looked around, seeing he was the only Norse left alive and 5 running towards him. He sent a lightning bolt at the man infront, who landed somewhere behind him and cut down the second. The third reached him too quickly, and dug his sword straight through Baldr’s stomach, before being consumed by flames that burnt him to the bone in seconds. The fourth jumped over him and cut a wounld deep into the god’s back before haveing the gods sword thrown at him, piercing his heart. The fith was burnt alive long before reaching Baldr, and seeing his enemies defeated, he began using the little magic he had left to heal his woulnds.


The man that had been first in the rush towards Baldr got up, Charred and badly beaten, with two woulnds in his back, but alive nonetheless. After picking up his sword, he leapt onto the gods back, brought his blade arm around Baldr, and plunged his sword deep through both of thier chests. The warriors sat there in silence for a moment, niether finding the strengh to move; then the man said, allmost mockingly “What does it feel like to die?”. “You’ll find out soon enough” the god replied, to which the man managed a pained laugh. “True..... But only after you”. When he said this the man, with the last of his strengh, pulled a dagger from the hilt of his sword and put it deep in Baldr’s neck, then sliced across it with ease. Both fell to the side before anything else could be done and there, in the cold pre-dawn air, Baldr and the man that was to become a legend; Marion died.