Jörmund

Flowers and Bones.

Not much more was said after Jörmund's explanation of his purpose, the giant merely stood and pointed to a small trail leading to the peak of the mountain before saying:

"Up there you'll find some flowers. Do not pick any that are yellow, those are the ones used as poison by Norrus, if it were potent enough to down one of my kind, it wouldn't take more than a touch to kill you. For now Ellri I'm going to go and bask in the sun, if you need me simply yell."

"One last question before we eventually part ways, what exactly do you eat Raskavar?"

"Our bodies use the sunlight to grow, we're kind of like plants, flowers one could say, we only need to bathe in sunlight for so long to be full for weeks. Be careful Ellri and good luck."

With a few earth rumbling steps the giant disappeared back around his cave and into the clearing, leaving Jörmund in front of a forested path. It proved warmly bright and cheery in the woods, birds sang happily and the wind danced through the trees, the old man felt safe as he strolled along with his staff bouncing merrily to every step. As the trail slowly led up the happy bird songs became more of warning calls, the wind grew cold and pushy, the sun almost felt dim.

Something was waiting on Jörmund, and he knew it.

Slowing himself to a cautious trot gave him time to chant words of battle into his staff, causing the end to mold into a twisted nest, a single shard of ruby perched in the middle. With his staff readied he increased his strides once more, red waves of aura swirling around the point of his staff. Eventually the path lead into a second clearing slightly smaller than the one that Raskavar lived near, the giant could have easily laid down in this one as well, but sure enough the field was painted red and yellow, the flowers, yet the land looked misshapen. Looking around, Jörmund spoke quietly to himself, as if something were perched overhead.

"The sooner I pick these and get back to Raskavar the better I'll feel, something seems terribly wrong here."

Jörmund got his answer when he ventured further into the clearing, soon discovering multiple huge half-buried and moss-covered shapes and indentures. Upon closer inspection it became clear it was bones, portions of skulls, and the remnants of massive splintered shields and broken swords. It was a Jötunn gravesite, and the disregard for the dead told Jörmund that this is where Norrus and his accomplices were thrown after the war, cursed to be forsaken from peace. To refuse proper burial is to condemn the spirit to walk the earth disconnected from passing over to the Aether, yet able to feel hunger, thirst, exhaustion and emotional pain without being able to consume or do anything to quench it. Jörmund had only ever seen it done thrice, and each time it was for individuals so cruel and twisted by dark magic that to give them entry into the afterlife would be a cardinal sin.

Norrus and his band of renegades had slaughtered their own kind out of greed, and their fate was to be condemned to this mountain they so desperately wanted, forced to look at their damnation as a spirit. Jörmund wagered that even if spirits, the energy of a Jötunn was able to permeate the air and land, their sorrow and anger made the wind cold and birds sing so worriedly. Jörmund hurried further into the field away from his entry point, trying to find a spot furthest from the huge bed of skeletal remains. To his dismay the first patch of red flowers he came upon sat around a huge blackened skull.

Norrus's skull.