Amund had been traveling north. Chita had been a disappointment, he hadn’t been able to recruit that many rebels and those he did had so different motivations that it took all his leadership skills to hold them together in the end he had just left it wasn’t worth it.
He had been traveling towards Arkhangelsk, the village wasn’t really of any interest to him but, when he planned his trip he just couldn’t find any route where he wouldn’t be traveling through so he planned to make a short stop to pick up some supplies, if everything went as planned he wouldn’t be needing them but it was good to be well prepared.
He was quite surprised when he saw the looming concrete apartment buildings but then again this was the glories Soviet architectural style and where money was spent seldom made any sense. He entered town where he to his great surprise meet both Ya Run and Philip. It was with very mixed feelings that he greeted them. He had really enjoyed there company last he meet them but he had his doubts about their origin.
He felt pretty certain that Philip might either be a forest spirit or the son of one, he could also be the son of one of the Vanir. When it came to Ya Run he was more uncertain, he might just be one of the local spirits, but he might also be related to the Jotun, his final option was that he could be the son of Loki.
This might be why he wasn’t at the top of his game, or maybe it was that meeting Ya run and Philip felt like an omen, as if fate had something in store for them. It came as a total surprise to him when the chest started to move. He hadn’t been surprised by an adversary in several battle filled years and that threw him of so later when events only got worse he wasn’t quite himself. Even though he kept mostly calm, during their hunt through the forest, their visitation by the riders and their approach to Babba Yagas cabin, his senses took their leave and he wasn’t as cautious as he should have been. He knew full well that a character such as Babba Yaga is a dangerous being to offend, and still he let his temper overrule his senses when he heard, what to him was sacrilege. the existence of other gods who could rival the power of the Aisir, of course the thought wasn’t foreign to him the Aisir knew of other gods it was the way she said and how she claimed the existence of another god of thunder who drove this chariot across the sky now that was surely blasphemy. suddenly he felt the blood of his Jotun forebears scream through his veins ready to bludgeon anyone who mouthed such sacrilege. Unfortunately they stood in the hut of a powerful sorceress who turned him to stone and would properly still have been standing there, if Babba Yaga hadn’t had a use for them.
Disclaimer: some of this was already written after first session. And the rest in a bit of a hurry so sorry if there are a lot of mistakes.