Welcome everyone to my first story! It's inspired by Norse mythology, Dungeons and Dragons, and a couple of other things. My goal here is to become a better writer, and publish regular updates, so if you have any feedback at all I'd love to hear it, and feel free to share! Thanks and I hope you enjoy x.

Talani shouldered his backpack, followed by Tove's, followed by Reg's, followed by his various weapons, and satisfied they were in good condition, strapped those to himself as well. Half-giant that he was (or so his people were called) the weight wasn't a problem for him, and it was easier for him to carry three sets of gear than for most people to carry one, but even so he chafed slightly. Carrying Tove's bag was a point of pride for him, something he would not let her do. She was so small, and he owed her so much. Carrying Reg's kit was a different matter though, and something that he still wasn't quite sure how he'd been roped into doing. With their comparative physiques it made sense, but it still felt like he was somehow being scammed by this pompous wizard, who had surely been able to carry it all before they met. Still, it wasn't really worth arguing about, and keeping cohesion in an environment like this was the most important thing.

All of these preparations had been completed by Talani before most people had fully finished stirring, and admittedly he had taken maybe a bit too much pleasure in turfing Reg out of his bedroll so that he could pack it away in good time. Nothing wrong with getting up early though, and for all the usual grace that Reg possessed, he looked more like a startled cat when was roused, and his tail only added to the image. It was an odd bunch that had been gathered together here, but there had been no such thing as 'normal' for him in a while. The lot of them had been gathered together by a mysterious summons; he and Tove from the mountains, Alf and Gialli from Hæd, and Reg and Teclis from who knows where. How a letter had simply appeared at their mountain hut was a matter of some confusion, and this confusion was not really lessened when it was revealed that the mysterious stranger who brought them down to Halvalf was in fact Odin, in one of his mortal guises.

Talani had never been big on the gods before. His culture was one of fierce independence, and very few of the gods saw fit to make their presence known in that deeply inhospitable place. The ones who did were more to be placated than they were to be worshipped. That said, an instruction from Odin was not one to be taken lightly, but he had been maddeningly light on the details. The prospect of a journey into the Barrowlands had been raised so casually, but really this was not somewhere that any sane person should wish to find themselves, if they valued their lives. A strange tint of insanity lay over this whole affair though, so it should hardly have been surprising. As everyone else got ready, Talani turned once again to their surroundings.

The Barrowlands was a shockingly large part of the continent to be so roundly avoided. It was, as the name suggested, an area festooned with ancient barrows, the burial grounds of armies and heroes of the past, those who had fought and died in the great wars of the past, and were even now fighting still, blessed with eternal glorious battle and feasting on the fields and in the halls of Valhalla. Not all were so blessed however, and it was those, the left-behind, who made this area one so tormented. The area, being contained between the rivers Airgead and Mor, was hard to get in or out of, and it was generally thought that these rivers did a fine job of containing whatever it was that lurked in here.

The perpetual heavy fog also did nothing to help this area. It clung to every article of clothing, pooled in the shallow valleys between the low hills they walked through, and made trying to see further than your hand an exercise in futility. Lighting a fire at night only made the mists more oppressive as the light reflected and refracted off a million suspended droplets, creating an opaque veil from the inside, but which various creatures had been more than able to locate, as they had discovered. They no longer lit fires after that first night, although by now that was a moot point, with most of their tinder sodden, and even in the case of using magic to light fires, there was nothing substantial to burn anyway. In short, the area was miserable, and even the stark bleakness of the mountains had some variety to offer, beauty between the storms. Here there was just mist, and being perpetually damp.

"You look like you're doing some serious brooding there, big man". The voice of the dwarf Alf broke the silence, the sound bouncing around uncannily in the low cloud. "I didn't take you for the pensive type," he continued "but I suppose everyone needs a hobby". Talani only offered a low grunt in response, but turned back to the group, who by now were looking a bit more alive, albeit unwillingly. 

"Everyone ready to get moving then?" asked Talani, answered by a chorus of tired affirmations and the sounds of final bits of kit being put away, stowed, or strapped on; the general grunting and noises that came with a tired group of people mentally preparing themselves for another day's hard walking in miserable conditions. Cold was a lot easier to deal with than wet.

"So what's on the agenda for today then?" asked Reg, smothering a yawn but trying to inject some levity.
"Let me check my calendar" said Tove, pulling out her star chart and making a show of examining it carefully. "Walking", she pronounced.
"Oh goody, my favourite," replied Reg "and how much further?"
"I have literally no idea. We have a shit map and no way to take a good bearing, but on the plus side as long as we don't lose the path, we should at least get there."
"And remind me: which one of these is 'there'?"
Talani stabbed a large finger at one of the barrows shown on the map, which was only a small fraction of the ones in this area, but which were considered the most significant. They were indicated only by a short string of runes, and of the six of them, Talani was the only one capable of reading it.
"Based on what the rest of you seem to know, I think this one" he interjected. "There is no such thing as an exact description in runic script, but this one speaks of heroism, history, and a great weapon. It is the best fit to what you have told me of this person we are looking for."
Alf took the opportunity to crowd around the map as well, and a sour look crossed his face, which was usually set in a cross between a scowl and dead-eyed boredom anyway. "It's slap bang in the middle of all this" he complained "I'd be willing to bet a large amount of someone else's money that that is about the most haunted place of this whole godsdamned region."
"Well then it's a good thing that there are so many of us" said Reg. For those paying attention, there was a hint of sarcasm behind the words, but few of them were feeling energetic enough to consider that.
"Six people is not very many" retorted Alf.
"Oh come now Alf," opined Gialli "surely you meant seven?"

At this, several sets of eyes swivelled to Gialli, and then quickly onto the extra 'person' he was referring to: a reindeer. What made this one special however, was that instead of being flesh and blood and bone and sinew, it was instead metal and magic, a device of extraordinary complexity the likes of which had not been seen in this world for centuries; not since the last Gnomish constructs had been decommissioned or destroyed in the last great war of Light and Dark, centuries ago. The creation of it was an extraordinary achievement, one of immense personal pride for Gialli, and it had already proven its worth as both a beast of burden and a tool of combat. It still creeped most of them out though.

"No, I'm still pretty sure I meant six, but thank you for opinion." Alf was not exactly in the habit of being nice. "If we find someone else with two legs though, then I might mean seven."
"What if we met a centaur?" askedTove.
"What if you shut up" he shot back. Tove just grinned. For a dwarf of just over 300 years, Alf was remarkably easy to bait, and a few members of their little troupe took great pleasure in doing just that. It was good for morale sometimes.

The occasional comment continued as they got underway, but people soon got bored, and energy was better used for walking than it was for speaking. Halts were called every so often, but the terrain itself wasn't that harsh to walk through, just the conditions. It was less a matter of getting physically tired than it was of emotional exhaustion, so they found it was better to just keep going than it was to stop and start, each new effort requiring that bit of extra willpower.

Most of them spent the time instead musing on their current situation, deep in thought. Navigation was easy so long as they stuck to the path, and there was little by the way of distraction, just the rhythmic sounds of their own walking. Talani had gotten his own pondering done early in the morning before they set off though, and so now was incredibly bored. As Alf had observed, he was not really the philosophical type, and craved distraction, which was not readily forthcoming.

And so it was that they trudged on, bodies and spirits dampened, not catching so much of a glimpse of the sun, until the pale, watery light began to fade, light grey drifting to dark grey, and edging ever closer to black. Trying to light torches was pointless due to the scattering of light in the fog, and the fact that everyone apart from Talani had exceptionally good night-vision anyway. Instead, they made camp, leaving a few indicators to show them what direction they had been travelling in, since it was so easy to lose your bearings here. They organised a watch rota, and settled down to another uncomfortable night of sleep, which came easily at first, but it seemed that the day was not yet done with them. Various dreams plagued some of their number that night, and although none of those affected could be quite sure the next morning, something about them had felt... linked.

If they had been though, nobody felt any real inclination to discuss it, nor did they have the energy anyway. They knew that they must surely be getting closer, but there were no real indicators of anything, and it was all blurring together, passing by in a fog of mind-numbing boredom, uncomfortable dampness, and actual fog. When night came again they were only too ready to stop, and decided to play a few rounds of everyone's favourite game: complaining.

"I'm all for this sort of 'noble questing', but is there a point to aimless wandering in a bloody cloud? I'd be drier if I'd just stepped out of the bath." Reg took the first serve.
"It's not aimless," countered Tove "we know where we're going."
"Point to it then." There was a brief silence punctuated by Tove shrugging. "That's what I thought."
"Well I think Tove's right, but of course we mustn't discount the group's feelings" said Teclis, displaying exactly the sort of diplomatic tact that everyone found bloody annoying.
"Far be it from me to weigh in on the wrong side of a debate then, but I'm with Reg on this one," said Alf "I haven't had a decent meal, a decent bed, or a decent bath in too many days."
"So you have another suggestion then, Alf?" It was Talani's turn to get involved now. "Are we to turn back without any sign of success, for the sake of a few day's discomfort?"
"Of course not big man, just voicing my feelings is all."
"So we're all agreed to keep going?" offered Tove.
"I don't think we were really considering stopping," responded Reg "one doesn't disappoint Odin without bloody good reason, and I hardly think this counts. Feels a lot more like a 'death or glory' sort of thing."
"If this is what glory feels like, I think I'll take death thanks" Alf interjected.
"Aren't you basically dead already, old man?"
"Not so old that I can't still beat you like a rented mule, sonny."
"Alright," butted in Gialli "since we have come to a consensus, I suggest we conserve our energy and get some sleep for now." A few muttered grumblings met this, but these were largely the remaining few snide comments being passed around, rather than any dispute with the actual point being made. Once again the watch was set, and another cold, wet and miserable night of sleep began.