Ing fortunately had heard the approaching Jotunn before he was spotted. The Viking had managed to sneak about the halls of the Jotunn’s dwelling without encountering the giants. He was unable to locate where the prisoners were being held. The Jotunn, Ing now followed might lead the Viking to his goal. Ing was careful to keep his distance from the giant, and not catch its attention. He needed the creature to guide him to the prisoners. If this one didn’t lead him to the prisoners, then he’d track another giant that knew their whereabouts.
Ing’s tailing of the giant soon brought him to a large room which appeared to be a mix between a torture chamber and a ramshackle kitchen. Rusty and blood stained hooks hung from the ceiling and great blocks of amber colored ice stood silent along one great wall. As the Jotunn he followed moved deeper into the room to engage the other who sat with his back to the room’s entrance. Ing silently ducked behind a nearby barrel. The smell of foul ale filled his nostrils from the surface of the barrel.
From his concealed location Ing watched the other Jotunn rise and greet his brethren.
He then grabbed a nearby cage with a human woman inside and dragged it over to the large trough, which the giant filled with the contents of a barrel at hand. The smell of the murky liquid filled the air in the room with a putrid and somewhat spicy odor, as it emptied into the trench.
“Are ya done icing those man-lings yet?” the Jotunn asked the other.
“Jus dis one left and she is a squirmy little wench,” was the monster’s reply as both laughed.
“Don’t kill… freeze her alive, it keeps the flavor and flesh tender.” The onlooker said as he rubbed his gigantic hands with delight.
“Now den wench, time to marinade in your bath, hope the water ain’t too chilly for ye!” The other Jotunn laughed and pushed the woman down in the murky spiced water within the wooden trough. The terrified woman clambered desperately for the surface as the Jotunn’s great breath froze the water solid.
“The terrified ones freeze so nicely, they do,” the Jotuun said as it broke the amber colored ice block from within the wooden trough. The giants roared in laughter again. Ing’s blood boiled as he gazed at the dozens of large amber blocks lining the room’s interior. He now realized that each block was a dead villager frozen in much the same way that a regular fisherman did to their catches, so they kept for the travel back to their homes. The Viking could barely contain his rage as every muscle in his body jerked with anger. Ing now thought the entire village dead. A large flame of hate formed in his breast, burning only with a desire to slaughter the giants. His rage and need for revenge brought dark thoughts to his mind. He gripped his magical war hammer and felt his strength grow tenfold. Ing’s dark desires for death of the Jotunn would have to wait, at least until one of them left the room. He was unsure if he could take on two gigantic foes even considering his ferocious mood.
The Jotunn who had lead Ing to the room turned to leave. “I am sure the others have begun the feast without us. You best hurry because I may have to eat you share to appease me gut.”
The other laughed in response and waved its brethren off so it could continue preparing the dead villagers for travel. Ing waited silently for some time until he felt that the other giant was out of earshot.
As the Jotunn loaded the last of the dead villagers on a large cart, Ing made his move. The Viking rolled out from behind the barrel and growled wrathfully. The giant was not prepared for the onslaught Ing unfurled like a thunderstorm. Before the Jotunn could even find a weapon of any kind for its defense, the Viking slammed his war hammer on giant’s right foot. The blow resonated off the walls of the chamber as Ing’s hammer completely tore through taut flesh, shattering bone. Ing struck the other foot almost in pure reflex, the blow sending the giant crashing to his rump. The Jotunn wailed in screeching tones as Ing’s next strike pummeled his groin. The great monster rolled kicking wildly. The pain it was under made the Jotunn extremely vulnerable. Memories of the dead villagers filled Ing’s mind, causing his next attacks to be purely brutal.
The Viking’s hammer buzzed like an angry wasp attacking a foolish child who had knocked down its nest. Blood spewed in the air and splattered all about as Ing took retribution, for the frozen faces of the dead, who like ghosts watched their butcher being crushed to death, under the fury of an angry hammer decorated with skulls.
Cathalson – 2011 / CANNOT BE USED WITHOUT PERMISSION.