(Writer's Note: Warning, if you do not enjoy the referencing to characters that are in a polyamorous relationship, skip this chapter. If not, enjoy, I tried to make it lighthearted! Also, sorry I haven't written in a while, I had to juggle between managing family and self-mental health.)
POV: Egill Jorgsson.
Date: Góa 20th, 798 AD. (Alt: 3rd March, 799 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
Naked under the covers, he wakes up in the middle of the night after a multi-Model hour nap, with Bjorn and Marja next to him on either side, his arms wrapped below their necks in a cuddle pile.
Their threesome'd polycule led to new findings with additional positions that had come to their knowledge under their Internet's Wikipedia, finding many that had first brought his magicless lovers feelings of prudity before their tryouts, that they then ~enjoyed greatly~.
He stared up towards the ceiling, feeling tiredly invigorated, but quite moist to his own skin's touch. '*Mm*Shower time.' He used his dexterity to glide down his two lovers' heads onto their respective pillows, unruffling off the duvet before turning around, finding the sight of both of them endearingly beautiful. His smirking cheeks softened before turning around to their bathroom, closing the door and turning on the knob to the hottest setting, near-boiling, just right for him.
Next, calling their Auto golem to bring in his new attire for the day, he was given a good outfit of button-down slacks in cloudy grey with a black overall that kept his fitted chest open with a low v-neck shirt, sleeves rolled up, following the fashion trend of 'business casual' he had seen online.
And after a small grooming session by squaring everything off with the shavers, creams and after-shave, his tidied wolf-cut hair recurtained designer stubble upon his triangular jaw, making him appear like the stereotypical 'tall, dark and handsome' subset of men you would hear all the time in stories, after finishing his newly built routine by moisturising and exfoliating his skin, he felt ready to take on everything about the day. He prepares yesterday's leftovers as Bjorn's breakfast, knowing his choice for having seconds.
Leaving their two-story apartment room, he uses his enchanted bark-inserted slip-on shoes to tread no footfall down the stairs, then teleporting out and away through the portal into his original room, cornering the long house of their old compound. He sets himself down by the doorway, checking the integrity of the 'cover of impairment.'
He also notices some neighbours who had chosen to stay back in their old homes, too. Greeting them with enthusiasm, Egill asks about their days and offers general pleasantries before going in. With his well-known helpfulness, he agreed to help with the problems a few are currently experiencing later. Eirikr the most, which gave a silent gist that collated to hoping to ascend his society in ETERNAL further, which is developmentally stuck in his high-gravity welled solar system set upon a resource-starved red supergiant.
Now that they agreed to a time tomorrow, he ferries himself off, Egill sat upon his rolling high chair to the work desk set, checking the magi-holodeck towards a blueprint that modelled a schematic.
An armour, of sorts, utilising both his enchanted bark as insertable plating that fits between a bi-layered CrCoNi and *Celestial Bronze mesh, they would work similarly to the Explosive Reactive Armour (ERA) of Heath's recorded M1 Abrams systems. But rather than being a single-use, impact-negating system that destroyed the projectile or weapon coming into contact, it instead obliterated everything in a focused area of effect, prisming towards annihilation and powered either by the user's own reserves or by the magic battery that had enough charge for what he recorded was 15 explosions / hallowed bark piece.
It could fit 6 slots on the torso, 3 per front and back and a bonus with each limb having been set, it meant that there are 150 tries with an uncertainty value of 2, depending on the strict bark quality requirements. Egill was quite proud of this first test, but there was more to work forward to:
The Enriched Network's Lightning Ignition Launch (ENLIL,) as the acronym suggests, could utilise the same enchanted bark to channel concentrated battery beams, strong enough to scorch stone. A good distraction against the Einherjar and Bolverkir, but with their power, it would be at best a sparkler against their strength! To combat this threat further, he felt the need for more, let us say, underhanded tactics. "Branding, cursing, how to apply this?" He closed his worldly sensations through meditation, using the mental library of his every possible additive that would be marked with (ENLIL.)
The channels could be primed, concentrated into lines that would prod the skin with a keraunographic design, and through the ambient magic, it would then automatically self-power. The curse he chose this time was paralysis, to work with the nervous effect of the beams at hand, turning it additive in purpose.
There was a fear his system could be overwritten if Þórr were in the midst of battle, but why would he use it when that would paint a target on him if he were there? Egill ignores his possible irrationality via scanning the armour's external and internal cyclical carmenary ('Carmen' = Latin for charm / chant, with the suffix -ary to show its denotation, like the word pulmonary has 'pulmon' for lung) works, showing its finalisation required no further touchups. Egill moved away from his workbench and into his kitchen to grab a new piping-hot cup of tea, yet he noticed a visitor about to peck his window as a gentle knocking.
Moving up, Egill opened the pane to check what the hubbub was. A magigraphic (Magic holographic) device broadcasts Sophia's visual warning call to all who may listen, that "they are to man all into the great scientist God's new home."
"How can I help?" From this tacitness, a list of potential add-ons to the home were provided that would utilise Egill's expertise. Yew-inscribed defensive mechanisms, magical wooden upholstery and furniture that is stronger and longer-lasting than their current metallic versions, higher UI interoperability through hybrid magitech home interfacing. It was all sound, except for the end bit. "'A flat-pack panel with a coated, self-repairing prickled surface?'" He pulled his left hanging hair flap back, realising the device in theory.
"An enchanted acupuncture mat? He asked for this?" Egill saw the crow nod with a "*Scraw!*" A beak-bobbing to thank him before flying off to check on the next potential inquiree. As the sapient that was thrice as large as him went down behind the grassline to reach the portal, he fell back and locked himself indoors to return the friendly favour.
With the reins to the multi-plan project, he began with the hardest: The home's magitech systems, then moved in reverse order to the easiest, wooden cutlery. It took a little marking, depending on the 'sophistication' and size required for his new brother, his wife, and his children. The sun passed below the clouds near the recently rained on forest by the west, watching the orange covers slowly veer on course for the mountains under a soft gale that told of promise.
"There you are." A soft barding spoke below his window, the gentle demure of their tone defining Bjorn's charm. "Yes, here I am. Drinks_too?" Egill asks his lover with rushed cheekiness, who smiles slantingly before coming in and raiding his fridge to bring up 2 for each other.
Clearing the steps, Egill notices a minor sweat and the afterglow of exercise upon Bjorn's form, who then leans on the same windowsill before providing the mixed berry soda for himself and a nice sugar mint for the other. They *Tink* their cans before opening them in sync, drinking it in spurts while watching the birds slowly glide on by. Without Bjorn realising it, Egill had moved in closer and kissed him on his cheek, the stubble tickling him into reacting by turning his head to give the same, his pale lips supple and pure.
After looking into each other's eyes for a moment, they return to reality, Bjorn reframed upon the screen's view of the armour in style, following through with them coming back inside and lounging upon faux-leather seating. "I saw your schematic, quite the tech you got there." The blonde man shuffled upon his seat, looking unto his hands that twiddled with themselves.
"And thank you for remaking breakfast." Which was a preparation of the leftover beef brisket lathered in apple sauce, a new craving he had been having for meats of any kind. "No issue, and I wondered, do you see any mistakes or ways to make the design look less, 'utilitarian?'" Pointing to many spots where it appeared like expanded pouches that bulked up the frame, he hoped that his skills in patternistic art could help streamline it while working aesthetically. "Here." Bjorn points to the bottom straps of the closest bark plate carrier, showing a slight sagging where it folds over the stitching.
"Your overlayer upon the CrCoNi was a good plan, but to tighten the hold, you should set the thread instead to what I heard by Sterling to use CNT (Carbon Nanotube Threading) that holds its elasticity while having increased tautness." He takes a "*Sip*" before continuing.
"The printing machine can also handle much thinner gaps between stitch holes and fabric-merging, better to turn it from the standard 9-Model mm ≈ (2.9089-mm (0.1146-inch)) to 6-Model mm ≈ (1.9393-mm (0.0764-inch),) then cover that in a birch bio-rubber coating to insulate from electricity." He realises he is being stared at by his lover, whose face gave a lovable grin after seeing Bjorn be so into helping him. "It is no big issue, come on~." He scratches his chin while holding back his blush building up from being coveted at with such eyeing. Egill kisses him on the cheek before doing the same changes he suggested.
"Yeah, this looks good now. Now to make the exterior camo to hide better, too." He covers the bio-rubber with its own second stitched-on fabric cover, then paints it with the software to lead a multicam camo-like appearance. "Do you think we could mass-produce this as body armour?" Egill asks Bjorn directly, who flittingly smirks.
"How much better do you think it is than the enchanted *Dyḗusium and *Celestial Bronze plate?" They heard a voice in the background, which turned out to be Marja, who had arrived after preparing herself nicely. "Well, that is a silly question~. But, its cheapness makes up for it." Egill corked off the prototype with a bottle of wine, then set it to print in his home printing machine from the omni-material storage set to be portalled and retransposed in. It is made in minutes with atomic accuracy, and the protective door cover opens for the trio to see the product.
"Your hairstyle fits you, love. Fishtail?" Egill asks with a complimentary suffixing while lifting up the vest in front of himself, next slotting in the enchanted bark plates into their respective gaps. "Glad you noticed. Wanted to give my algǫrunnasti (Perfect beloved) a sight for sore eyes after such a long day's work."
She moved closer with her brother, coming behind the still working man that is testing his suit's capabilities to give a pincering double hug. They stayed like that until they heard a deep *Knocking*. "Hey, iⁱs iⁱt a bad tiⁱme?!" A raised slurring called out from the front, the sloshed tones and gargled soundings making the trio realise it was their Faðirbróðir Ásbjǫrn, who, as his name implied, was a mountain of a man covered in blonde hair as thick as fur. Egill apologised to both of them before running down the stairs in worry that he might break the door down.
"Uncle-*-ehᵉʰ!*How has it been? Have not seen you since the party." He spoke with greater warmth after meeting him, one of the few of their group of freed þrælar (Thralls) who had gained their release after proving their mettle in the previous raid.
"Not been too bad myself. I got to tell youᵘu-" Ásbjǫrn held his breath for a moment to stop his burping, rubbing his own chest before resuming. "-'at you have a fewʷ people coming about for a meetup." He released a long belly breath, the fruity gas opposite his family's faces. "Sorry, but, yeah. Wʷe wʷanted a round meet after not seeing each other for nearly a wʷeek." He grasped at his new set tunic and into a pocket for the note, checking the time for how long it would be before they meet. "A biⁱiⁱt before sunset. 8 fine for you?" Ásbjǫrn sees no quarrel from them, so he hobbles off back to the portal.
"His drinking
Food, drink and all manner of amusements were prepared, as well as an exhibition on the possible future of military protection at their disposal for their brethren. Egill's role was as the host and entertainer, Bjorn was the food and drink provider, and Marja was working together with Elzta (Eldest) Hölga towards creating trinkets, man-made prizes and loot for those who win their games for tonight. Hölga herself has said that it will be a lovely time, even with the suddenness of the meetup, riling herself by unruffling her knotted, ungreying hair in a primping.
POV: Goldie Dollen.
Date: Góa 4th, 798 AD. (Alt: 15th February, 799 AD.) Location: Götaland (Ancient Sweden.)
"-and that is when I was brought here." Goldie, after hoping to hear about her life and history, was quested for the same, who retold much of how it was made in the simulation.
Of the cursed invasions within the 'Minecraft Realm.' The death of untold thousands, a datapoint, nameless to all in this reality but to him who memorised each of their faces and reasonings for their death. Of the orange bale moon that spoke of malice in shining down below.
And the mass grave he had made for those who were not given peaceful rest before helping to massacre those that drove such cruelty upon others. "Father created that reality as a story for the people he guides. In telling to prepare for the worst." He slowly morphs his hands, fidgeting into random shapes before reconstituting back into hands from a ballooned blob. "It was my Uncle, the Clan Formaðr, who took pity on me, that even with no soul, I only knew of failing. Which then coaxed them into making me real, with my same memories." . . .
"I. . . Still feel it, the rust, staved off my past-steel chassis with the Mending that repaired my form. The feeling of cold flesh held in my arms of what could have once been. To the warm blood, that dripped from my fists." He clenched his jaw, not angry at anyone,
more to himself, really, that a false reality that personally felt like aeons ago had such a hold on him. "You had to bury. . ?" Gunnlǫð's eyes widen in seeing more of his story that was told. Of the 'Villager' children and similar victims of the raids, having been made the same. "I am. . ." She closed her eyes to stop her own apology, seeing the hyper-realistic sight that would even make seasoned warriors flinch in disgust. "Why had your father made it this way?" Gunnlǫð breathed out to de-stress herself from the atrocities committed against a false civilisation of innocents.
"For their own future." Heath's knowledge and view of the show had been foretold as prophecy in a believable secondhand account, with magigraphic (Magic holographic) video-backing that Goldie remembered with perfect clarity, and the Kvasirsmjǫðr (Mead of Kvasir) played these same freed memories.
She saw the massacre by Þórr, within the wedding by the fields of the Open Hand Jǫtnar Clan, of all that had been known and loved by Leif and Sigrid. The old, the young, the strong, the feeble, it did not matter to Mjǫllnir's swing. Forcing the king and queen of no subjects into the path that narrowed them to becoming the catalysts for Ragnarǫk. The memories cut short then, yet Gunnlǫð could tell there were more that he chose to keep secret. "A simulation does not matter, compared to real souls." The golem hardened his heart, burying the faces of thousands under the knowledge that they were never real.
"Then, these Pillagers, would you say they have readied your people?" She saw him nod, then lift himself up off the pelt on the floor to then put away a book into the shelf again. "And there is more, I see that." Gunnlǫð turned her hands down onto her lap, partially acclimating to the idea that this being who appeared to be an adult was actually less than a month old.
"Us Dollens get that a lot." His faster blinks showed there was some hidden humour to his words, then stretching his hand out and placing upon his chest where his heart would be. "Thank you for letting me read your books. I feel I am ready." His bow showed graciousness, which she returned with a head tilt before both got up in turn. Now back at the cave entrance, a full night of knowledge scribing gave him enough courage to venture deeper into the trǫllkonur (Troll women)'s domain.
"Goodbye, Goldie. I enjoyed your company." She smiled for the first time in decades, realising that she was happy that honest folk like him chose to travel rather than the greedy or gluttonous who wanted to take unlimited knowledge. "Close the door on your way out."
He gave a double knock unto the door as a sign of good faith before lifting it to its original position, down it went onto the cave entrance, he left, making sure that none saw him.