[For Honor] Volundr: Storr's Beckon - Rep 70 Jormungandr Montage

Описание: For a sum of steel pieces, Hulda had purchased Volundr from his previous captors, and from there the two climbed aboard a longship to set sail for Volundr’s new home; a place known as Storr Stronghold. Along the way, Hulda answered what questions Volundr still had.
Hulda was the leader of an elusive cult that worshipped the Jormungandr, a mighty serpent of such great size, that it was said to encircle the entire world. When Ragnarök came, Jormungandr would rise from the depths of the ocean to do battle with Thor. And according to Hulda, Ragnarök was fast approaching.
Frami, the man that Volundr fought, was one such member of the cult. He had ventured to the mainland to instill fear into the nonbelievers, but wound up captured and tossed into the pits to fight for his freedom. How ironic, Volundr thought, that Frami’s place in the cult would be taken by the man who killed him.
The cult is made up of deformed outcasts and pariahs from Viking society. While Volundr had been judged as a very worthy candidate to enter their cult, Hulda explained that to become a true member, he had to endure a brutal ritual involving pouring acid over his body and crushing his limbs with a hammer. Volundr looked down upon his many scars. He had endured such pain before. If this was what it took to leave his past life of slavery behind him, then so be it.
After days of sailing, the stronghold came into view. Volundr didn’t expect much, likely a bunch of small huts. What greeted him instead was a massive fortress upon the rocky coast, with high walls and a mighty gate in front. Volundr was awestruck that such an obscure sect could have access to a structure THIS extensive. As they neared, he could see people upon the archer points and waiting at the coastline, their bodies scarred and battered like his.
As they left the boat, and Hulda led Volundr through the stronghold, he saw warriors of many sorts, scarred and grizzled, wearing their hideousness with pride. They would gaze upon the marks on Volundr’s body and nod, and he would nod back, one battered warrior to another.
“They see what you have endured.” Said Hulda. “They know your pain and honor it. In a way, you are already one of us.”
“But the ritual…” Volundr would say.
“Yes, the ritual.” Hulda responded. She led Volundr into a large storeroom full of assorted equipment. There were many weapons and armors present, but from what Volundr saw, the cultists favored hammers.
“To truly become one of us, you must show us the extent of your resilience. You must endure our pain, feel our wrath. Then, if you prove yourself worthy…”
Hulda stopped, standing before a particular set of armor on a rack. It was black, decorated with streaks of gray made to evoke the writhing of a great serpent, and given a fine trimming of glistening gold. The set consisted of a thick leather coat, pants, arm guards, and a fine golden helmet with two large black horns that curled and twisted upwards. Volundr gazed at it, enchanted by the status and power it exuded.
“…then this will belong to you.” Hulda said. “If you survive the ritual.”
Volundr blinked and gave her a wary look. “If?” He repeated.
“As I said, Volundr, you must endure our pain. Many do not survive.” Hulda responded, turning to him. “You are a formidable warrior, but your scars alone do not prove your resolve to us.”
Volundr clenched his fists and squinted fiercely at her.
“Perform your ritual then.” He spoke. “You will find me more than worthy.”
“We shall see.” Hulda responded.
That night, by the light of a ring of torches, the ritual began. There was a massive altar at the back of the stronghold. Volundr was stripped naked and made to kneel before the altar and rest his arms across it. Hulda stood at the other end of the altar, a large hammer in one hand. A crowd of other cultists stood behind them all, chanting fanatically. Volundr remained calm as a cultist strode behind him, carrying a large bowl of acid. They bent the bowl downward, and a steady stream poured slowly upon Volundr’s back. The pain was instant and intense. He grimaced as he felt the skin on his back bubble and sear. He clenched his fists, but he refused to utter any sort of noise that could indicate weakness. He glared up at Hulda, teeth barred. She then raised her hammer and brought it down on Volundr’s forearm.
The rest was a blur. Volundr drifted in and out of consciousness, his mind plagued with images of the dark abyss. He could feel cold, ancient eyes on him.
When he next awoke, he was lying on a bed, surrounded by wooden walls. The light of dawn crept in through an open window. His back felt as if it had been peeled off, and he almost couldn’t feel his arms at all. Slowly, he lifted them up above his face. They were wrapped in bloody bandages.
He turned his head and saw Hulda standing in the doorway, her expression stern, yet proud
“You are worthy.” She spoke.
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Song Used: Riak - Ashen: Nightstorm Isle
   • Riak