The Chronicle

[arcanus]

Asgard - Divergence Point: 780AD, Viking Scalds discover Rune Magic, they use this to battle the Linorms and Trolls in the Northern Icelands.
Current Affairs: 819AD the Scandinavian Kingdoms are subject to Civil War as the Christine Danes battle the Norwegian Aesir, in order to wipe out the Old Gods.

Moldefjord, Norway - The Next Day
The following day an Aurora Borealis wove through the ice blue sky, golden motes of light materialising into a swirling sphere, snow blew up into a cloud and within the mass appeared a ship. A long ship but not Norse in construction, more Celtic or even akin to a Greek galley, the ground crunched and heaved as the vessel settled.

Appearing from a newly erected tent Kraus blinked in disbelief, stepping out to allow Captain Omar to exit, nursing his coffee the Captain started to stroll up the slope towards the ship. A large if not huge man appeared on deck, he nursed a iron flagon throwing the slops down into the snow.
Despite the minus ten chill all he wore was a kilt, fur cloak and large brass and steel bandoleer, the hilt of a very large sword protruded over his left shoulder, a great mane of black hair ran over his shoulders, hard eyes and an even harder face.

Others appeared upon the deck, a figure completely hidden beneath a cloak and hood stood ominously to one side, a second shorter warrior with long blond hair and the fourth man of eastern European if not Arabic origin.
The big man stepped down the gang plank gesturing for the hooded one to move, Kraus watched as the hooded one loped down and started to dart around the killing zone.

Kraus caught Omar’s arm before he reached the summit, “Mercenaries” he said
The Captain looked at him “As you said Lieutenant, we haven’t the manpower, nor the expertise” with that he trudged on, reaching the big man, who stood and regarded him with a sneer

“Thorn” he said, the big warrior grunted, he looked around sniffing the air
Omar knew how to play the game, and also looked around nonchalantly, until the warrior regarded him with a piercing gaze
“So why are we here police man” the warrior growled, his eyes boring into the I-Cop
Omar looked at his fingernails before finally regarding him, the warrior stepped forwards threateningly
Omar ignored this “A team attacked, slaughtered, one of them is missing!”
“So”
“So we need her found”
“Her, a woman!” he growled, the warrior nicknamed Thorn surveyed the scene, “She’s dead or a slave, if it’s the second then she already wishes she were dead!”
“Nether the less I want her found and brought back!”
Thorn spat and swore in a tongue that Omar didn’t recognise

The hooded figure loped over, leaned close to Thorn and growled a series of snarls,
Kraus had by this time joined Omar, Gruer stood a respectful distance behind.
Thorn turned to the three I-Cops, “They were attacked by nine Norsemen, he pointed to where the headless corpse had been found, he slew five of them before they cut him down”
“They pillaged the woman over there, her spoor sits upon the earth”
Kraus scowled in disgust at the warriors callousness
“What of his head” replied Omar unperturbed
Thorn leaned towards the hooded one, who snarled some more “They took it with them, their tribute for bringing down a warrior”
“Jesus” snarled Kraus

Omar looked at Thorn “I want the girl and the head”
Thorn looked at the I-Cop “It is a waste of time”
“The girl and the head!” repeated Omar
Thorn shrugged “A lot of gold and mead for this one”
“Yes”
The warrior smirked, turned and barked in the same guttural tongue as he’d used earlier
His companions assembled, each apparently ready to depart, it occurred to Gruer that they’d known he’d agree all along

“Thorn, they’ll be someone joining you” said Omar as he gestured to a figure stood in arctic gear, next to their tent, Thorn exchanged as disdainful look with his companions
“They’re the ones with the gold, Thorn, you need to play nice!”
The figure jogged up the slope, a broad shouldered man, who immediately stuck out his hand, the warriors looked at it as if he had a palm full of shit
“David Fairbourne” he said hopefully “From the Chronicle!”
Thorn glared at Omar, who shrugged
Fairbourne turned to the hooded one, spotting watery ice blue eyes staring out at him, again extending his hand
“Hi I’m….”
The hooded one lunged, his cowl falling revealing a distantly humanoid face, one with wolfen features and fangs, Fairbourne stumbled back as Thorn caught the creature, swung him around and threw him into the restraining arms of the other warriors
He stepped up to Fairbourne “You keep up or you die” he grunted before gesturing for the warpack to move

“Thorn!” said Omar, moving to catch him away from the other I-Cops
The big warrior turned to look at him “They suffer, bring ruin upon their houses”
Thorn regarded the sudden savagery in the I-Cops face and simply nodded, he took off piston like legs carrying him into a withering jog, one that Fairbourne had to maintain from the off.

[arcanus]

Gernsback, 1965 - Divergence Point: 1893; Nikola Tesla marries Anne Morgan, the daughter of financier J.P. Morgan, and thus remains sane enough to invent radio and broadcast power with Morgan financing.
Current Affairs: The World Science Council puts down all threats to techno-utopia in the fantastic World of the Future!

Daytona International Skyway – Daytona Beach – Florida.
The Electro Pulse racer hit 17Gs as it cut across the ferro track, intense electro magnetic waves pulsed vertically striking the fuselage of the racer pushing it up, the driver angled his altitude by de-magnetising the underside of the racer.

The Wipeout racers could achieve altitudes of 4 meters, however top height induced greater drag and slowed them, too low and the magnetic currents turbulence bounced it around.
Jimmy Lee Capps adjusted his side fins to upward tilt, his screen showing pulse waves of energy exploding in upward arcs from both sides of the racer, he flattened the deflector panels on the nose pushing the nose up and accelerated.
Magnetic fields bunched around him as the racer reached 25Gs and a colossal 3000mph, tight goggles protected his most vulnerable eyeballs, he hit the upward climb of the Daytona track rocketing up the fourth vertical ramp.

His rivals were just behind him, he cut across the track barring their acceleration past him, he quickly compensated as the nearest nudged his right fin, any error wouldn’t just shunt him hundreds of meters it would smash him into the track.

The racers surged over the back of the ramp, the more inexperienced drivers wobbling as they levelled out from the jump, the more experienced including Jimmy pitching their racers nose downwards and accelerating into the curvature of the ramps bottom.

Three cars wiped out, miscalculating the millisecond fin and deflector adjustment required to surf the bottom curve, keeping their noses down too long and literally driving into the floor.
Jimmy pulled an old trick, a deflector shuffle rapidly revolving the deflector plates to make the car bounce over the curve and maintaining acceleration.

***
Daytona International Skyway VIP Suite – Daytona Beach – Florida.
The flight from New York had taken a mere half an hour by strato jetliner.
James McFadden and Mike Eldridge nervously travelled with their boss Tony Larcomonni, this was part of the walk of shame, to have to travel with him whilst he admonished them about their failings. That and the fact that Tony loved Gernsbach sports, Daytona Wipeout anti-grav racing being a close second to speedball.

The Daytona VIP suite was more than a mere viewing room, it was the size of a dance hall and whilst the spear like racers thundered around the impossibly elevated track a dinner party was in full swing.

The party was a full Outworlder do, with Chronicle bigwigs and their favourites circulating.
Jimmy found himself a little ostracised and alone, when he turned and bumped into a garish looking man in top and tails, complete with stockings up to his knees and peacock feathers projecting from his shoulder pads.
Jimmy was in little mood for flakes and glared at the man, who returned his glare through a monocle eye.
“What are you some kind of fag!” Jimmy snarled
“I beg your pardon” replied the man, his jowls wobbling
“You heard, you bat for the other side!” Jimmy could feel all of the anger and frustration of the past few days surfacing having now found a suitable target
The man however seemed to compose himself smoothing back his thin oiled hair and gave Jiimy an haughty look “Why don’t you like Queens!” he replied smiling
“No” grunted Jimmy
The man adopted a patronising smile and the eyebrow above his monocle raised to epic proportions
“Who do you work for?” he asked
“None of your damn business”
“This is tiresome, who do you work for?” the man asked a little more forcefully
“The Chronicle” Jimmy grunted
“Don’t be an idiot man, we all work for the Chronicle, which division?”
“He works for Sports and Leisure Leo!” came Tony’s voice from nowhere
Tony’s impressive stature suddenly eclipsed both men
“James allow me to introduce Leo De Champ, Editor in Chief of Le Mode, which as you’ll know is the Chronicles Fashion and Lifestyle division” Jimmy’s face went pale, his jaw almost hitting the floor
“Your young man was just telling me how he doesn’t like homosexuals” chuckled Leo, all the while giving Jimmy an icy look, he received no aid from Tony who arm around Leo’s shoulders led him off to the champagne table while giving Jimmy a look that could well and truly kill.

“Way to go sport, you just insulted the most powerful man in Fashion and Lifestyle” said Mike from the buffet table beside Jimmy.

[arcanus]

Asgard - Divergence Point: 780AD, Viking Scalds discover Rune Magic, they use this to battle the Linorms and Trolls in the Northern Icelands.
Current Affairs: 819AD the Scandinavian Kingdoms are subject to Civil War as the Christine Danes battle the Norwegian Aesir, in order to wipe out the Old Gods.

Moldefjord, Norway.
Fairbourne was bone weary, the warpack had maintained its relentless pace through the day and into the early hours of the following morning.
Now he sat upon the top of a slope his breathing slowly returning to normal, the pains diminishing from his muscles and bones, his shinbones were killing him.

***
The hunter approached its prey without a slow cautious movement, instead she prowled and then moved with swift bursts, her intended prey seemingly
stupidly oblivious to her advance.
She shook her head, this one was stupid the snow flurry around them was relatively light, not really obscuring things if you cared to look, she slowly drew her Spatha,
a sword design that hadn’t changed since the Legions had ruled Gaul.

This one would die slowly!

The sword stroke caught her across her throat severing her vocal cords and ensuring her death was silent, she stumbled back in disbelief before her killer kicked her back down the slope.
The blonde warrior sprinted down the slope, his longsword swinging down to catch the next Norseman across his thighs and then splitting his face in two.
Eòdor bounced into a spring and then leapt into the centre of the approaching norsemen, he wove between the four warriors, each skilled in the art of killing yet unable to land a blow.
His stokes were clean and each dispatched in a single stroke, such was his craft

The warpack had been posted to deal with pursuers, upon spying the interloper they’d split into two groups, the second of which charged down from their cover upon a neighbouring slope.
One man had slain five of their number they would drink from his skull, however behind them a large figure rose from beneath the snow.
The last of their number was yanked off his feet by two huge hands gripping his head and wrenching him bodily into the air snapping his neck and spine in half a dozen places.

Arrows sailed across the downward arc of the snowy gully dropping the forward Norse pair, uncustomed to the tables being turned in battle the remaining norseman slowed looking about, this was all the time the warrior required.
Descending amongst them the warrior snapped the latter pairs necks before they’d gained their bearings, the next was snapped over his knee and the last Viking was kicked clear across the gully floor, several ribs splintering in the process.

Fairbourne watched as the blond swordsman Eòdor made his way past the huge figure of Thorn, he circled upon the Viking like a shark, drawing a pair of long thin curved daggers.

[arcanus]

Downtown Vancouver - Homeline 2027
Momentarily Adam Sarcum’s attention was drawn from the Chief Editors meeting out to the Bay.
It was standard stuff review of previous weeks earnings and market share, the usual nuclear armistice to gain prime space of both digital and hardcopy print and review of forthcoming features.

As he stood to leave Bob Cleaver Editorial Director stopped him
“What’s up Adam?” he started
Adam shook his head, settling into one of the offices sofas “I’m fine Bob” he smiled
“Don’t get me wrong History’s figures were really up there, The Boards impressed with what your doing”
“So” he replied cautiously
“Relax Adam, so hidden agendas, just one of my Chief Editors is quite in the blood and guts”
“Got a few Journos missing in the field”
“No word from Annette?” asked Cleaver
Adam tensed how was his boss aware of the wayward Miss Garrett “No none”
“She’ll turn up”
“Hope so, good Journos don’t grow on trees”
Cleaver chuckled and Adam relaxed “Really” he responded
Sarcum stood to leave “Not ones with the brains needed for Historical”, with that he excused himself and headed back to his department.

[arcanus]

Northerly Island, Chicago – Homeline
Constructed on the site of the former Meigs Field Airport, beside the Charter One music Pavilion stood the reconstruction of the 1933 World Fair building, its three triangular towers extending from the art deco glass hall beneath.

A considerable amount of the building and its exhibits had been salvaged from Worldlines where the Expo had come to an end and was being dismantled, White Star Traders had proved very adept in purchasing a treasure trove from 1930s sellers who were all to glad to get a good price.

Its construction was pure nostalgia, officially part of Museum Campus, a celebration of both Chi Towns illustrious history and Homelines transworld power, its ability to retrieve the past.
Jimmy McFadden looked up at the towers, sighed and alighted the steps passing through the chrome gilded glass doors, entering the atrium he was greeted with facets of modern technology.
Two thirty foot tall screens, each unit split into two screens one above the other, Sally Rand dancing her fan dance, Italo Balbo's arrival on Lake Michigan in his flotilla of 24 flying boats, the arrival of the Graf Zeppelin and Judy Garland singing.

He snorted in contempt, he’d lost a fortune in missed sports coverage in the past few days due to having to jump through hoops, now he had to come to this relic to meet his supervisor.
At least that was one plus, at least he could get moving now, get back to what he did best, reporting on sport.

He strolled through the halls looking at the exhibits with distain, the so called future of the 1930s looked like some much art deco junk, even the hollering tones of Miss Garland grated, ‘Give me some Pumping Base Beat, R&B or Trance any time’ he thought as he approached the illuminated section of the exhibition hall.

To his left stood an authentic Vegas boxing ring, a figure danced within the darkness, shadow boxing, another figure sat upon the bonnet of a Duesenberg Phantom, again in shadow.
He ignored the one on the car, instead going for the obviously male figure in the ring,
“hey buddy I’m looking for my supervisor” the very words stuck in his throat

The figure gestured and warily Jimmy stepped past the ropes, he cautiously strolled towards the brawny figure that bounced in the centre of the canvas, his eyes narrowed.
As he got a better look at the figure he saw a man in his mid to late fifties, massing some 230 pounds of muscle and brawn, starting to turn to flab, he had the look of a fighter, long broken nose, a head full of pure white hair cut in a vaguely military style.

“I’ve seen this flick, old guy is faster then he looks and beats the shit out of the cocky young guy” he said with a heavy hint of sarcasm
In return the man danced back into the shadows ignoring him, boxing with invisible opponents
“For fucks sake” Jimmy hissed under his breath “People are just trying to push my buttons”

“I think you do a good enough job without other people” don’t you Jimmy, carried a female voice
Jimmy spun spotlights clicked on further illuminating the Phaeton, for a moment he nodded in appreciation one thing they did in the 30s was built nice cars, slightly spoiled by the arty slut sat on its bonnet.

He strolled over to the rope and looked at the woman “Who the fuck are you?” he snarled
“Your answer to everything” she chuckled
The woman was dressed in a mixture of an ethnic African blouse, tan trousers and a Native American shawl, her brown ringlets woven into several plaits on the side of her head.
She was attractive in a kooky way, thin angular features and pale skin, accented by the redness of her auburn hair, but she wasn’t swimwear and Jimmy only did swimwear.

“Question still stands” he said moodily
“I’m your Supervisor Mr McFadden”
Sheer cold rage passed through Jimmy, he stood glowering at her “Pardon” he said finally
The woman seemed delighted and hopped off the bonnet
“You work for Infinity?” he said incredulously
“No I work for La Mode” she twinkled
Jimmy’s face screwed up as he struggled to remember something, something on the edge of his memory “La Mode, La Mode” he muttered
“The culture and fashion division of the Chronicle, the second biggest earner in the company”
“Third” he responded absently “History’s second”
“That’s debatable and seasonal” she responded a little more seriously
“LA MODE that’s the paper that….”
“My father works for, yes” she finished for him
“Your father, what that guy, no, he’s…”
“Gay, well and truly I’m afraid” she again laughed
“What the fuck qualifies you, some jumped up daddies girl, to supervise me!”
“Bet your not even a proper journo” he snarled, just as he felt a tap on the shoulder

Jimmy had expected this and a childhood of Tai kick boxing prompted him to rotate his leg into a spin kick and turn, the old guy was quick and bounced back away from the kick, as Jimmy’s leg extended he darted back in and slammed a punch into his inside thigh.
Jimmy roared with pain, before his leg cramped he jabbed Jimmy in the face, then again before delivering an upper cut.
Jimmy bounced off the rope and smashed into the canvas, through his bloody drool he grumbled “I fuckin knew it”
“No this is the bit where the old guy beats some manners into you punk!” said the old man, crouching near him
From the side of the ring the woman looked him in the eye “I suppose your mouth getting you beaten up was inevitable really" she said icily "My names Charlotte De Champ and like it not James, you’re going where Frank and I go and we get to say whether you can go out to play without your reigns, kapeesh!”

Jimmy just groaned

[arcanus]

Number One Penn Plaza - New York
Tony Larcomonni ‘s office occupied the north east corner of the 55th Floor of the One Pen Plaza, strategically positioned so that he had a prime view of both the East River and Madison Square Garden I. Infinity Incorporated had purchased the tower from the real estate magnate Leona Helmsley in 1999 and the Chronicle Sports Division had leased floors 50 to 55 since 2015.

As VP of Trans World Sports Coverage Tony effectively ran the New York office, including its proprietary rights to sports and entertainment in both the Madison Square Garden stadiums. He had just finished his latest teleconference with the Senior VP Sports as he heard the ruckus in his offices reception.

As the sleek mirror black door swung open he had moved to his aluminium and chrome drinks cabinet, finished to such a standard as to resemble immaculately crafted platinum or silver. He finished pouring two Tennessee whiskeys before turning and gesturing to James McFadden towards one of his leather armchairs to sit down.

He couldn’t help but grin, Jimmy’s face was black and blue, swollen with a cut lip.
“What the hell happened to you?” Tony asked innocently
“As if you didn’t fucking know” retorted Jimmy
“Yeah your right I do know”
Jimmy snarled at him “An this is alright with you!” he said incredulously pointing to his face
“Yeah, no less then you deserve” Tony raised a finger to silence the forthcoming vitriol
“Franks a good guy, so if you got a pasting then you were undoubtedly your normal fucking stupid ignorant self, let me guess you were rude to Charlotte?”
Jimmy grimaced in embarrassment “I might have been a little out of turn”
“So you caught the train up here, because I’ve stopped your expense account to have it out with me, that right”
“Look Tony I’ve leant my lesson, best behaviour, you’ve never been this hard before!”
Tony’s mask of patronising amusement slid from his large face, rubbing a equally large hand over his bald head he stood and stalked his 6’5 frame over to the polarised office windows.

Reflecting for a moment he turned and leant over his desk, placing both his hands apart looming towards Jimmy menacingly “I’m glad you’ve had a tantrum and come to see me Jimmy, because know I can explain the fucking anguish you and your cretinous colleagues cause me”
Jimmy gulped
“See a few years back the infringements were relatively minor, that or the I-cops didn’t have the time or tech to check things that thoroughly, but they’ve caught up plus you idiots have got slack, I don’t mind fast and loose but a kid Jimmy for crying out loud”

“So now when one of you decides to play the big man with the fabric of time and space, the I-Cops senior brass summon me to fucking Canada, man I hate Canada and do you know what they do when I get there Jimmy!”
Jimmy winced
“DO YOU!”
“No boss!” he replied

“They show me films of global wars, of planetary holocausts, of economic collapse and they point out that’s what your arrogant Journos are risking by fucking around with the Secret, they don’t drag you up there, no me the Head of Operations for the East Coast, the VP of Content!” Tony extended to his full height and glared at Jimmy.
“Now if I decided to have a tantrum like you lot, if I decided not to go or send someone on my behalf, you know what they say!”
“No” replied Jimmy wearily
“That they’ll revoke our Trans-world licence, not just Sports the whole of the fucking Chronicles licence”
“They can’t do that, your fucking joking” Jimmy snorted
“Do I look like I’m joking James and yes they can, because they control the means of getting there, it’s their train set!, as you can imagine the Board strangely didn’t want to take the risk”

“So in short James you will obey anything and everything Infinity asks you to do or give me your notice now!, your fucking lucky I didn’t just fire you and you should be kissing my ring for swinging Charlotte and Frank to assess you instead of some balls of steel I-Cop, course your too fucking stupid to work that out!” Tony took a seat behind his desk, framed by the east Manhattan skyline.
“Of course if this kids birth does change the timeline of that Worldline your on a one way trip to Coventry, and there’s jack shit I would be able to do to stop that!”

Jimmy sighed, he felt very tired
“So James it comes down to two things first you keep everything hidden, that little thing called the Secret, second you keep your dick in your pants off world, now repeat after me keep the secret and keep your dick in your pants”

[arcanus]

Jevnaker, Norway
Jevnaker was a large Viking town sitting beneath the shadow of the Svarttjernshøgda Mountain, its slopes and pine forests wrapped in a blanket of pure snow.
The towns waterfront looking onto The Begna River, the town was bustling with trade a centre of Old Norse so far too Northerly to be affected by the Christian Danes.
Its population swelled even further by a gathering of warbands, a small army of Vikings meeting for a Moot, under the leadership of Kroa Thodir, Runechild of Lund The Bloodaxe, warchief of the Southern Vald.

Although it was barely midday drunken revelry and brawling was rife throughout its muddy streets.

Eive looked around with both a mixture of interest and excitement, violence and challenge permeated the air of the town, Vadan Odrolf on the other hand looked at the warriors with distain, this was the Viking that the warriors of Christ wished to destroy.

A large group had gathered down at the riverfront, there was considerable jeering, ‘Slaves’ Vadan thought and started to move through the throng.
Pushing himself to the front he grimaced as he spied Kroa, the spoilt son, a common murderer granted power by his fathers pride, the commotion was over a collection of women all of Southern blood, many not Norse, a bedraggled bunch all raped and beaten.

His eyes widened as he spotted one girl, her skin was darker than the others, perhaps Persian and the remnants of her cloths a vibrant blue.
“Odin’s Teeth” Vadan swore, such clothes were the mark of a noble, but there was something else about her, something that troubled him greatly.
Thorgeisson had been confident that the Nóregr would hold if not defeat the Christians however their journey south had shown only retreat, in fact from what he had heard they were conceding ground without battle.

As an Erilaz Vadan saw the shadows of the eight realms that were joined to Midgard, he saw the motes of Odins Touch dance around the Persian girl, he saw no marks of power upon her but more that she had been somewhere where the Touch had immersed her.

“Something troubles you Elder?” asked Targ Larsten
Vadan nodded his gaze not leaving the girl, her head hung low, beaten and bruised
“We must consult with Dragnar” and turned to leave
“NOTHING TO SEE FOR YOU SEER!” a voice boomed, Vadan turned looking directly at Kroa, he gestured to the slave girls “BENEATH YOU THIS!”
The assembled warriors now moved to encircle Vadan and Targ, jostling began and several landed blows on Targ, a whirl of violent motion followed the nearest Vikings to Targ yelping and stumbling back as daggers sliced their faces or hands, nothing grievous just enough to encourage caution.

Vadan silenced any further brawling with a stony glare at the surrounding men, before walking back toward the log stage on which Kroa stood.
“I have business elsewhere War Chief” he replied
“STARING INTO ANIMAL GUTS AND USELESS STONES NO DOUBT” the thuggish Kroa returned, inciting an oafish chuckle from the mob, Vadan didn’t reply, merely meeting the indolent younger man with a stony stare that eventually made him feel uncomfortable.
Kroa sprang from his wooden throne, barrelling the slave girls aside “YOU WOULD CHALLENGE ME DOG” he stormed
Vadan smirked, Kroa’s eyes widened in pure rage, his hand playing across his swords hilt
“My Lord” a cowled advisor imposed himself at the edge of the stage
“WHAT” snarled Kroa
“Herre Vadan is a Clan Chief, this would be a formal challenge, a Blod Duel”
“SO”
“If Herre Vadan were to defeat you, there could be no vengeance and ah”
“AND WHAT” snapped the War Chief
“You would be spurned from Valhalla, Hel would welcome you!”
“HE WOULD NOT DEFEAT ME I AM ONE OF THE RUNA BESKRIVS, INVULNERABLE IN BATTLE!” Kroa grinned madly
The advisor looked somewhat fearfully at Vadan “Of course my Herre, your fathers wrath would be great” Kroa looked at the old man in disgust, then turned and flung himself back into his throne.

Vadan turned and accompanied by Targ the pair strode from the gathering unmolested.

[arcanus]

Orkla Mining Conveyor Station I – The City of Bodo, Norway, Homeline
The Parachronic Technicians watched as the Conveyor completed its countdown, its payload dematerializing within the sealed transit chamber.

Materializing within its destination World Line at an altitude of 25000 feet the Chronicles drone unfolded into its aerodynamic shape, accelerated to a cruising speed of 450 kph plotting a course south.

Infinity Incorporated Projection Hub – Oslo, Norway, Homeline
The I-Cop techs noted the more Northly dimensional transit, every Conveyer leased to a Homeline Government or Corporation was equipped to transmit its coordinates should they be to a monitored or restricted world, to an Infinity mainframe.

While the techs pondered the transfer, the hub initiated two jumps of their own.

The Dovrefjell Mountains - Molde, Norway, Asgard
“First and second perimeters breached”, Captain Omar rubbed his eyes, standing in the second story of their Hostile Terrain Habitat with yet another blizzard whipped up around them.

“Visibility dropped to two meters” added the comms officer, “Laser grid activated” he added calmly, the screen revealed a dozen shapes scrambling up the rocky slopes, each cutting through the invisible lasers.
“How on Earth did they find us!” exclaimed Lieutenant Krauss
“Not sure” replied Omar thoughtfully “Must be something to do with coming across, looks like they bring the weather with them” his eyes narrowed “Activate the sentry guns”

The HTH had been established on the summit of one of the lower Dovrefjell mountains, surrounding it a ring of smart sentry guns, given the activation order each weapon elevated, armed and fired. A dozen corpses tumbled down the rock face.

“ Conveyor code confirmed, incoming” said the still calm comms officer
Omar and Krauss made their way down to the ground floor and through into the conveyor chamber, the shuttle that materialized was an armored model, as soon as the green light activated the hatch swung open.

Special Operations Commander Willis stepped out followed by eight of her troops.

“Captain Omar” she said curtly saluting him
“Commander” he replied, this time returning the salute, this one was militaristic so the salute was necessary, without ceremony she handed him a small circular circuit disk.

He inserted the disk into his earpiece and listened.

[arcanus]

The Svarttjernshøgda Mountains - Norway
The mountainous path was hidden by age and lack of use, the surrounding woodlands and snowfall sweeping away the impermanent steps of man.
Vadan allowed the frigid cold air to scold his lungs and clear his head, they’d made their way from Jevnaker during the previous evening, camping on the mountainside and then heading out at dawn.

He allowed Eive and Targ to move past him, each scanning the quiet morning woodland, he remained a moment to look down on the tiny speck of the town watching the riverfolk start their day, the Vikings still sleeping off the previous nights revelry.
He concentrated feeling the phantom breeze of Odins Breath move through the mountain air, allowing his other sense to wander locating the Runestones scattered throughout the ancient trees. He frowned the stones were alive, chittering with power, the air buzzing to those who could hear, that wasn’t a good sign.

He shook Odins influence from him, his eyes watering he turned and resumed trudging into the woods, finally the trio arrived at a sparse clearing upon the summit.
The younger’s crept along the outskirts, Vadan for his part followed the overgrown path, noting the hardy wild mushrooms that had grown tall despite the adversity of winter.

The keep was a single floor, its stone green and damp with moss, no doors or windows allowing a scattering of snow to grace its threshold, he stepped in catching scent of a still burning fire. Vadan weaved his fingers through The Breath and incanted “Følger vi runene, følger vi veien”
A voice muttered from the darkness “Følger vi runene, følger vi veien”

A stooped figure shrouded in a cowl hobbled from the shadows, Vadan remained still as the figure eventually made its way to the small fire burning within a small pit.
“The body grows weak my old friend” croaked the figure
Vadan moved to the figure “While the stones grow strong, too strong!”
“Yes, yes, it is not good” he grumbled
Vadan looked with concern at the old man, he had never seen him so weak
“The Scalds have been turned from their rituals, to play seer to the Lords, unattended the stones sing!” the old man continued
“And as they sing the wyrms will follow The Aesirs breath South!” Vadan finished
Dragnar looked upon Vadan through milky white eyes “The others are gone, turned or drowned, the stone leeches my final days from me” he smiled and breathed heavily
Vadan patted his friend on the shoulder “Rest”, Dragnar’s eyes fluttered, he stood and stepped outside, he found Eive examining the mushrooms while Targ sheltered in the shadow of the peak watching the paths.

“Elder” said Eive “What troubles you!”
“Things grow dark child” Eive frowned in response
“VADAN” a shout drew his is attention back to the keep, the elder nodded his head sadly at Eive and returned to the old mans side
Dragnar was now seated over a small simmering cauldron, weakly he stirred the pot and then painfully leant forward to look upon its contents, Vadan sat opposite him
“Dark hearts” said Vadan
“You sense deceit” replied the old man now seeming to be possessed of some purpose and renewed energy
“Yes, why release the wyrms in the North and retreat to the Southern planes”
“Perhaps the kings wish to draw the followers of Christ against the beasts”
Vadan thought on this “Possibly but a foolhardy notion, the Linorns instead will ravage the Northern lands and our Whaling, a few of the Ice Drakes may travel South but none that would fight the Danes, it is folly”
“The kings seek the power of the stones” replied Dragnar thoughtfully
“Now we reach the truth of it, the fools think they can surpass their Runes and turn such power against the Danes, this is their folly they seek to control power they have no respect for nor control” Vadan was shouting angrily now
“This is why they have drawn the Skalds close, shut them in libraries, to uncover greater Runes”
“Do they fear the Christians so much to resort to such madness” hissed Vadan
Dragnar turned his senses seeming to return to him but his strength waning visibly “Yes, I have heard rumours that their priests can turn aside the Fulthark, they possess power within their faith”
Vadan looked into his old mentors eyes “They forget the great slaughter of the Northern shores”
“Forget, ha, most of them do not believe in the Great Wyrms, they see only the common ones and think them no more than big birds, they think the old tales are just that!
Vadan the kings seek to protect the Aesir Norse, however they will instead destroy us”
Dragnar shuddered uncontrollably, Vadan sensed the change, a chill to Odins Breath.

“ELDER” screeched Eive, Vadan was already upon his feet stopping short at the threshold of the keep, floating above the mushroom strewn clearing was a thing of darkness, a ghostly skeleton, whose bones where as black as sin, its eyes pinpricks of red hellish light, its form wreathed in a swirling charcoal fog.
Eive turned and looked at Vadan in fear, he raised his hand signing her to remain still and quiet, he hoped Targ would do the same, the thing cast its gaze around, seeming to peer straight through them, frustrated it swooped around searching for something that it could not find.
The sky had grown dark, the clearing even more so as long moments passed in statue like silence, before the shade hissed in frustration and flew into the darkened sky.

Moments more passed before the elder moved to Eive and pulled her to her feet
“What was that?” she gasped fearfully as if out of breath
“Something that should not be” replied Vadan before he gently pushed her away and hurried back to Dragnar, but it was too late, the old man’s eyes had rolled back in their sockets, his skin already greyed and his chest shrunken
Targ had now appeared in the doorway “I am truly sorry Elder” he said
“Ssshhh” replied Vadan gently as he leaned over Dragnars corpse and the cadaver of a black bird, a long stiletto piercing its heart, placing his hand within the birds hearts blood he drew a deep inward breath and leaning over his old friend breathed out, releasing a cloud of blue vapour.

The vapour poured into the corpses mouth and nose, as Dragnar’s ribcage rattled and he rasped a breath, a curious blue light shone behind his eyes and an unpleasant noise almost like a hissing laugh escaped dry lips.
“You remember the old ways” the corpse rasped
“Yes” replied Vadan ignoring both Eive and Targs gasps
“A dire soul has called up the Fel Mørken and set them upon you, the last of my breath will keep you hidden from them!” it coughed
“For how long old friend” whispered Vadan
“But two sundowns and my breath seeks Valhalla” the corpse became silent
“My thanks old friend” said Vadan his head bowed, his hand upon his mentors withered hand
“Rejoice well within the halls” he said as he stood
Turning to the two youngers “We depart now, we have little time” with that the three gathered their possessions and fled down the mountain path.

[arcanus]

Executive Offices – Palm Island, Miami - Florida
Panoramic windows gave the conference room a spectacular view of Biscayne Bay.
Tony Larcomonni glared at all of the journalists and the Director of Location Aiden Swaltz, the latter of whom had insisted the Assignment Meeting was held in sunny Florida.

His icy gaze however did not settle upon Jimmy McFadden who sighed in relief, since his foolish tantrum in New York Tony hadn't let up, he didn't sit completely comfortably though his bitch Supervisor Charlotte Du Champ sat behind him, much to the other journos smirks and grins.
‘I’m better than all you fucks’ he mentally cursed

Assignment was a big deal, each quarter all of the Sports journos met with the Operational Directors, throughout the previous quarter they’re work notably prime shots, articles and commentary was rated, the overall best ratings were awarded the top assignments.
As the multiple parallels and safe echoes approached certain dates notable sporting events were available to be recorded, of course even the same events could turn out differently so Chronicle sports readers were always eager for the next events.

The top events for this quarter was Superbowl 23, the 1958 Fifa World Cup and the Athens summer Olympic games in 2004, surprisingly Jimmy was not annoyed when these venues and other choice assignments were farmed out to the other Journos, in fact he was expecting it.
Mike seemed pleased with his 1998 Winter games in Nagano, Japan giving Jimmy a smug look, however a long icy stare from Charlotte soon dissolved this, Jimmy shook his head he certainly didn't need some daddy’s girl fighting his battles for him.

He was last and dreaded to think of what he’d be covering, it certainly wouldn't be lucrative.
Tony turned to him “Paris 1924” he said simply, Jimmy frowned, Kit Polker female journo seemed to catch on really quick “He’s got a Games, what the f”
“Ahem” snorted Charlotte, the two women locked gazes
“Polker” said Tony with calm command
“Boss” she replied
“Shut up”
“Yes boss” she huffed, Jimmy was still being slow on the uptake, he didn't see the big deal, archive footage was never as punchy or lucrative.
Assignments over, the collected Journo’s stood, waiting expectantly for their boss, the order of the day was a champagne lunch.

As Tony stood Charlotte piped up, “If you’ll excuse us we’ll get underway”
Tony smiled, Kit seized upon this “Nice thumb print Jimmy, you a tamed man!”, she licked her lips suggestively
Jimmy stood, straightened his suit looked Kit in the eye and turned without comment, for some reason he really wasn't bothered about the lunch.