By this point most sailors were relatively well acquainted with the process they went through every time they moored. Amandine would open up her ramps and let the designated security teams move on to secure the terminal while another team would follow shortly behind to shore up their defenses and deploy the APC’s – or even the CV90- in overwatch positions.

That was not too different from what they had begun to do at the cruise terminal here in Havana, the difference being that this time around they could rely on Fugro’s help to secure the perimeter, and that there were locals in close proximity of the terminal.

Said locals were exactly why Dilip had asked Alejandro to follow him outside so they could go and assuage the locals’ fears that no, they were not some kind of pirates or an invasion force.

No really. He doubted they actually thought that, but they’d best kill the idea in its infancy before it bit them in the ass.

And they weren’t going not to set up a security perimeter either, that was out of question. Even with locals present, Dilip wasn’t willing to risk his ship’s safety on the assumption that the Cubans had kept Havana clear of monsters.

Which was exactly what he’d just asked Alejandro to justify to who they assumed was the local leader, the Ornithian with the ‘57 Bel Air. He was a big burly parrot with the feather pattern of a red crested amazon: mostly green overall, with strips of dark blue around his eyes, a bright red crest atop his head, and a yellow tip on his tail feathers.

To that the parrot added a pair of dark slacks, a Hawaiian shirt – no surprise given Ornithians’ taste for anything garish- and a Panama hat. No shoes though, unlike the sailors he seemed to think his claws were tough enough for the dry dusty stones of the streets of Havana.

They met him at the cruise terminal’s exit, where a small crowd of parrots and hippogriffs had gathered around his car. Behind him, the city opened up to a small paved plaza with a dry fountain and greenery that was just starting to edge into overgrown territory.

But no visible traces of a colony. Clearly they hadn’t settled in this specific part of town.

Dilip stopped his visual survey of the area when the burly parrot squawked something back in Spanish to his Chief Officer.

“So what’s he saying Alej’?” The Indian dog casually asked.

“He says his name is Eduardo Quiros.” Alejandro folded his arms over his chest. “Local leader, yes. Doesn’t seem to mind the security measures. They’re not really set up around this part of town.”

“Anything we should look out for?” Dilip asked Quiros.

“¿Qué peligro hay?” Alej’ said in Spanish, translating the Captain’s question.

“Perros.” Quiros replied. “Watch out for wild dogs. There are a lot of them and they come back in the old town every few days. If you have an enclosed car you’re good, but you’ll want to protect yourself. We keep to the rooftops when they come by. The buildings are close enough to jump from one to another. Or just fly.” He explained, waving with his claw towards the rooftops

Now that he noticed it, most of them couldn’t be further than three meters apart towards the top. That would have been hard for humans, but even for an Ornithian unwilling to shift his arms into wings that wasn’t much of a leap. In either case the close proximity of buildings and the urban environment was just about ideal for their type of flight.

And the second most prevalent species in town appeared to be hippogriffs. They could just fly without the endurance difficulties usually experienced by parrots.

“Wait. So you have the dogs slipping into your colony every single time they come to town?” Dilip frowned once Alejandro was done translating.

“No no. We have a couple blocks barricaded to block them off. We just can’t wall up the whole town.” Quiros told them. “Excuse me but I can’t help but wonder… where are you from and what are you here for then?”

“A bit of everywhere actually.” Alejandro spoke. “I’m Spanish, Dilip here is Indian… we have Russians, English, Belgians, Filipinos… a lot of people actually. That’s just the way freight transportation is these days. We are the World Seafarer Union, the WSU...” Alejandro hesitated. “Unión Mundial de la Gente de Mar I believe would be the translation. UMGM.”

Didn’t carry quite the same meaning in Spanish though. Might need to look for something more suitable in Spanish.

In front of them, Quiros looked at the moored ships with renewed interest just as a tug from Rhine Forest arrived on the pier now that the barge carrier was solidly anchored with both anchors. At about the same time Skinner left Fugro too. The hedgefog had needed a bit more time to go over the guard duties.

“Cargo uh? I guess I can see that. The guns though...”

“We’ve faced monsters, wild animals, bandits even. Believe me: they are necessary.”

“I believe you. What’s your deal with Cuba then? Why even come here?” Quiros cocked his head to the side in curiosity.

“We have access to satellite imagery. That’s how we found out about you.”

That just made the local leader cock his head even further to the side. Like a curious bird.
“¿Entonces?”

“We have plans. Goals that we follow. Those would be that we will readily help you and provide assistance to developing groups and colonies, but in turn we ask something. That thing, would be trade opportunities.”

Quiros furrowed his feathery brows, a reaction that was matched by some among the crowd behind him as they erupted in hushed whispers.

“Something wrong?” Dilip inquired worriedly.

“Must be an American Embargo thing.” Alej’ shrugged before turning back towards the other parrot. “What says then, Quiros? We already have a couple colonies willing to trade and exchange. We have the ships to carry that cargo. And I wouldn’t be surprised if we added an oil refinery to that in the future.”

“In the future?”

“We have reliable enough intel to point us towards Mexico once we’re done here.”

“Oh alright then.” The Cuban paused to throw a look at the crowd behind him. “We have many people of all skills and crafts here, but I’m not sure what we could do for trade.”

“There are always possibilities. Our last port of call was in America, and we have someone who’s really good at finding what you can manufacture. He’s called Roberto, he can help.” Alej’ confidently told.

So long that the Italian cat didn’t catch word of him giving out praise like that of course.

Quiros raised a claw to signal them to wait for a second before he motioned to the crowd behind him and they formed a tight circle around his car. Alejandro caught a few snippets of a brief debate that didn’t last more than a few minutes before they broke up.

Their local leader faced the sailors, now looking a bit more resolute.

“Fair enough. The people of Havana will accept your offer.” He clicked his beak. “We’ll have to hash out some more details however. There are some tourists still stuck here, and we want that trade agreement on paper, understand?”

“Crystal.” Alejandro grinned before he addressed his Captain a curt nod.

Dilip’s grin matched that of his Chief Officer as he grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“Amandine, Prateek here. Please deploy all those field hospital containers we got from Copenhagen. Inside the terminal. Looks like we got a deal with the locals. Over.”

“Prateek, this is Amandine.” Vadim’s voice filtered over the radio with just a hint of static. “Confirmed for deployment of field hospital within the security perimeter. Anything else Captain? Over.”

“Yes please. Contact Doctor Delacroix for additional assistance as soon as possible, and get Roberto to the checkpoint. We need the alley cat to run a colonial assessment with the locals. With Alejandro as interpreter of course. Out.” He concluded before reattaching the Wa-Ta to his belt.

“Interpreter? Me?” Alejandro repeated.

“Sorry friend, we’re not exactly spoiled for Spanish-speakers around here. Looks like you’re going to translate a lot. I can relieve you of some duties if that becomes too much.” His superior apologized.

“No need just yet. I’ll ask around with the locals. See if some of them know any foreign languages.”

“You do you.”

“Remember Martin… you have to feel the connection before you can get the magic flowing. This isn’t wizard magic, you’re reaching for your connection to Cernunnos, not your own power.” Starswirl explained sternly in French.

Martin nodded mutely. The little fawn was sitting on his haunches inside the mage’s pocket dimension, where he had invited his pupil within the spire that towered above his realm. An artificial magic breeze rustled his fur while he meditated on the balcony.

Did he like meditating? Not really. He had been at it for a bit more than a week already, and he was still having difficulties making a distinct difference between the multiple sorts of magic he was supposed to use.

At times he felt like he’d rather be out wandering through Broceliande.

Not too often though. Ever since he’d pulled off his first wizard spell, magic had remained on his mind. The things he could do, the sheer awesomeness of having honest-to-goodness Merlin – or Starswirl, same person- as his teacher...

Even the potions he did with Meadow was something he really loved doing. The mare was a kind teacher and adoptive mother, so the lessons were a bit more relaxing that what he was doing with Merl-

“Focus Martin. You’re letting your concentration slip.” His teacher reminded.

“Pardon monsieur Merlin!” He quickly apologized, not opening his eyes to look at him.

He knew the unicorn – material of course, as he was when he stuck to his pocket dimension- was just beside him taking notes about that mana stone Lady Morgane had given him. He could hear the scratching of his quill against the parchment.

Maybe he should tell him about pens.

No. Focus.

From an outside view, the little fawn shifted his meditating stance, leaning just a bit more forward as he furrowed his brows, eyes clenched shut. He had already located the magic he needed for wizard stuff, he was prettysure he did it subconsciously when it came to potions – or so said Meadowbrook-, so the link with Cernunnos couldn’t possibly be that hard?

Focus.

Find the magic.

Reach for it.

There?

“That’s wizard magic Martin.” Merlin pointed out.

Dang it. At least it meant that particular power came to him easily… though molding that one type of magic into a proper spell was another affair entirely.

“Try to discern all types. Imagine they’re different colors, it’s all in your mind. Do you see it? Can you highlight the difference?” His teacher provided.

Martin nodded briefly before focusing his attention inward once more. Wizard magic? Just… white maybe? There. He could see it clearly now, strands of white power that coursed through his very soul. He kept his attention on it for a bit, just to make sure he wouldn’t lose track and have to highlight it again.

Now for the rest…

The innate deer magic that provided his connection to nature and made his potions stronger he found soon after, electing to highlight it in yellow. It came to him as naturally as the wizard magic, easier to use too, instinctive even, but not as flexible. Its flow was different. It wasn’t so focused within his core, his soul, instead spreading out through his whole being.

It took him the better part of his meditation session to finally locate the next magic that resided within him.

Bizarrely enough, that wasn’t the one tied to Cernunnos. That one immediately sprang to him as fitting the color purple. Something powerful. Something ancient, now closely tied to his own essence.

He took ‘hold’ of it – at least as close to holding a mental image during meditation-.

Merlin’s head jerked towards his pupil, a honed sense for magic suddenly perceiving a force he hadn’t felt in a long time. Martin had suddenly taken on a purple aura that shimmered no more than an inch above his fur, still seemingly deep into his meditation.

The unicorn didn’t say a word lest he break up the phenomenon. Instead, he set his horn aglow with magic and began casting observation spells in quick succession to identify what it was exactly that was going on.

It didn’t take more than a minute for him to get his results back.

Eeyup. That was Element magic alright. The fawn had somehow managed to take hold of his connection to his Element, something Starswirl had never even tried to do. Mostly because it never dawned on him that it was possible in the first place, and that meditating to access your magic wasn’t necessary once you were past the neophyte stage.

And he was well past that point when he became the Bearer of Sorcery. Reason why it never came to him to do what Martin had attempted right now.

“Hold on...” Starswirl muttered under his breath as another of his observation spells came back to him with its results. “What is that? Uh uh… a connection? No… several? Fascinating.”

They were like invisible tethers, a perceptible sign of those same ties that kept a generation of Bearers as the tightly knit group they were supposed to be and connected them to the tree from whence their power originated.

Even though it was his first time actually seeing the phenomenon, that wasn’t actually too much of a surprise. That it was visible – tenuous as it was- was the actual surprise.

But there was more.

In addition to the ephemeral cord of filaments that arced out of the fawn before they became so thin even he couldn’t track them, probably to link him towards the Golden Tree where Concord and the unassigned Elements still were, there was another thicker filament.

That one was much more intense and anchored in the material realm, so much so that he could even track it with his mage sight. It definitely was related to the Elements of… should he say Harmony or Concord? Whichever. But the relationship was there.

“So what does it connect to?” Starswirl stroked his beard pensively.

Martin chose that moment to come out of his meditation with a gasp as the purple aura faded away and the little fawn tipped over to the side. He didn’t seem too alarmed by the fact however, because he was on his hooves in an instant with the cheekiest grin Star had ever seen him sport.

“Are you alright there?”

“Yes Mister Merlin!” He replied eagerly before he pranced over to the edge of the balcony. “I had a vision!”

“Did you, now? And what did you see?”

“I saw Concord… but he didn’t say anything.” Martin furrowed his brows, one hoof reaching for his antlers. “Then there was this shiny string. I followed it through the woods, and there was this clearing with a raised stone in the middle.”

Starswirl eyed his pupil carefully.

“Was there a circle of stones around it? With runes on them?” He asked.

“Yes! How did you guess?”

“You found my tomb.”

“Pardon?”

“You just described my tomb. It’s off to the north-east past Vivian’s lake. We passed by with Meadow and Rock when we first came here. You didn’t think this old ghost was actually alive, did you?” He chuckled.

“I uh...”

“It’s nothing.” Starswirl reached out with his hoof to ruffle the fur between his antlers. “But what you saw… that’s definitely my tomb. With my body underneath.”

“But why would I have a vision of Concord and your tomb?” He asked in confusion.

“I don’t think it’s about the tomb, but what’s inside.”

“Your corpse?”

“Not the corpse. Remember how Concord said he wanted to tie artifacts to each Element? Think.”

“There is an artifact under your tomb?”

“My staff.” Starswirl nodded calmly. “It stands to reason it would be picked as your artifact...”

Needless to say, the fanboyish grin Martin sported at the prospect wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He just managed to keep his giddy squeal to himself.

“… seeing as we share a similar Element. Funny, I have its ghostly version when I shift to human form, so I entirely forgot it technically was still under the tomb. We’ll have to retrieve it sometime soon.”

Starswirl paused, only then noticing his pupil’s reaction, which elicited a sigh from the mage.

“Don’t get carried away Martin. I made this staff myself. It’s extremely powerful, so don’t hope to master its use for a good while. You’ll have to stick to the training staff until I say you’re ready, understood?”

Martin was silent.

“Understood?”Starswirl repeated sternly.

“Y-yes! Yes Mister Merlin!” Martin smiled sheepishly.

Going by the look his teacher threw him, the words came across as less faithful than he really intended.

“Very well then.” He worked his jaw a few times. “I still need to finish my research with the mana stone. Judging by the time, the castle’s kitchens won’t have dinner served for a good hour. You know what this means?”

Inwardly, Martin winced.

“Martin?”

“Yes Mister Merlin. Meditating.” He lowered his head before trotting back to his spot on the balcony.

“Good. Now try to reach for the right magic. It’s what we’re here for after all.”

Martin frowned once he had his back turned to Merlin. Magic was hard.

Cleric magic was… actually rather neat.

There wasn’t much the engineering personnel had to do while the ship was alongside. Sure there were a couple system overhauls and planned maintenance that they would have to get over with at some point, but beyond that they only really needed to keep a diesel generator running to provide electricity. That and guard duty, but they had the benefit of two ships sharing one pier, so that wasn’t even that much.

What that led to was a lot of free time for the whole department. And while the geek trio in the form of Carlos, Angelo and Radiant were all too satisfied to use that time to run a marathon game of Civilization (one of the few games Radiant really liked); Aleksei had decided to follow up on Epona’s advice.

She was actually trying out her spells. Along with Scarface too.

Finding the right spot wasn’t even too hard. The end of the pier wasn’t facing any of the ships, not even Rhine Forest that was anchored further away in the middle of the harbor. A mild breeze was blowing in from the sea, serving to alleviate the Cuban heat that permeated the air through the blazing sun that battered anything that left the shade.

On the bright side, no more dank Georgian swamp with the prevalent humidity. Instead: dusty piers, old colonial architecture, and a tropical island.

So there she was in her cleric robes, spell tome in her satchel, facing the water where a target buoy had been tossed in the water some… twenty meters away maybe?

“Have you actually tried your spells once?” Scarface asked.

“Not really… I only ever used my daily spells and those weren’t technically given to me with the cleric function. Sooo… only rituals so far. Plus the speechcraft boost from my bracelet.” She told the gargoyle beside her. “You?”

“Of course I practiced!” He laughed. “God, I’d be dead if I didn’t have my telekinetic shield in Savannah. It’s really easy to come up with new spells as a gargoyle. Intuitive I mean. Comes to you naturally.”

“So how many spells do you have so far then?”

“Fifteen.” He folded his arms and smiled proudly. “Well… fourteen if you remove telekinesis. It’s so widespread it might not even count for all I know. All of them, I wrote down in my notebook.”

“Good on you then.” She said before she pulled out her spell tome.

The leatherbound book felt weighty in her talons, its pages made of thicker parchment than modern paper. She knew the contents held a wealth of information on her spells, complete with illustrations, illuminated ogham script, and even some miscellaneous information she had yet to fully read through.

“What can you do then? I remember those daily spells were ‘appeasement’ and ‘relieve pain’, but what else do you have?”

“Not that many combat spells, unlike you.” She said. “I have uh… about fifteen actual spells and cantrips. Book says it expands with practice though, dunno how that works. I have the fertility stuff, some ‘cure wounds’ spells, a couple wards, blessings, ‘detection’ spells for magic, holy and evil.” She paused. “Yeah… that really isn’t much for combat. I only got ‘repel evil’ and ‘banishment’ for that.”

“Care to explain what it does then?”

“First one doesn’t actually do damage, but it makes monsters and demons flee. The other one… demonstration?”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Scarface beckoned with his hand towards the target buoy.

Slowly, she walked closer to the edge of the pier. She had already gotten a feel for the energy she needed to call up through previous cantrips and rituals she had used.

Banishment was just several orders of magnitude above that.

Aleksei dropped down on her haunches and held her talons close to her heart. She closed her eyes and recited a quick prayer under her breath, feeling the magic she’d been gifted by Epona flow through her. She molded it according to the instructions she’d read in her book. Tug here, push there with her mind, channel towards her palms.

A sphere of white and golden holy magic coalesced into existence between her talons. The air crackled and hissed as the scent of ozone reached her nostrils.

“Here goes then...” Aleksei finally said, pushing her palms outwards in the general direction of the buoy.

Like a fiery lance, the ball of holy magic turned into a thin beam that raced towards her target with a speed worthy of a bullet.

For a brief second, she almost felt like she’d missed her mark before the beam arced towards the buoy and hit it dead-center. The spell went right through the plastic, leaving a fist-sized hole behind, before it impacted the water with a sizzle.

“Wow...” Aleksei looked down at her palms in wonder. “Just… wow.”

“Nice shot.” Scarface complimented her. “That looked powerful. So what’s your limit?”

“My limit?”

“Yeah. How many of these can you pull off? Here...” The gargoyle’s forearms became wreathed in magic as he summoned up his power, waving his arms briefly before a surge of crackling purple magic arced from one arm to the other, which he fired off in a beam through his finger.

It impacted the buoy just below the surface, gouging out a significant portion of the plastic and sinking it in a matter of seconds.

“Hmm… bad aim. Was aiming for the center.” He grumbled. “Point is… that was my most powerful spell so far. I call it the magic lance. The limiting factor is… the more spells I use, the more it takes a hit on my stamina. That one? Probably got like… five shots. Maybe six in an adrenaline rush. And that’s starting from top shape. You get my logic?”

“Oh… doesn’t really work on stamina for me.” Aleksei smiled awkwardly, dropping back down on all four limbs. “I have limits too, but it’s not tied to stamina. I just… tap into my connection with Epona to get the magic. I want more spells, I need some rest, a few prayers, maybe some meditation.”

Or she could try and channel Epona to ask for a favor… but abusing the connection for more firepower when she had four shots of banishment was a bit of a stretch. The spell was meant to neutralize big monsters and demons, not to be wasted on fodder like timberwolves or twittermites.

Lest they forgot: they still had guns. And she was pretty sure some of her ward spells could prevent the former from reassembling.

“So what else you got, Scar?”

“I made a neat trick with my fireball last time I trained. Observe...” He grinned.

In a gesture that only took him a fraction of the time he needed to pull a magic lance, a small fiery orb appeared in his palm before he brought the other down on it. The fire darkened, smoke turning the orb an acrid black before he lobbed it away from the pier where it exploded into a massive smoke cloud after a few seconds.

“Okay… that one is a bit wasteful ‘cause it burns as much stamina as a regular fireball… but eh, I made myself fucking unlimited smoke bombs. Neat right?” He boasted.

“Pretty much.” She acknowledged. “Say… I know I don’t have many combat spells, but you mind throwing out a few more spells yourself? I think I can help you some with my support spells and I wanna try them out.”

“What, the fertility stuff?”

“Tell you what… ‘cause I know you’re one horny bastard that’s just itching for some local tai-”

“Why, glad to know my boss got me figured out.” The Bulgarian laughed out loud as he folded his arms across his chest.

“Shush you. Deal is: you give me the opportunity to test my support spells, I got one contraception spell in the oven for you. Twenty four hours of safety, STD’s included.” She held out her talons. “What says?”

The gargoyle in front of her had his scarred muzzle split into the biggest shit-eating grin she’d ever seen him sport before he clasped her proffered claw.

“You got yourself a deal.”

In stark contrast with Cuba, Narvik didn’t exactly share the tropical heat. Sure, it wasn’t the frigid wasteland most would expect from a town so far up north, but September had rolled in, and it was clear to any of the locals that ever journeyed up the mountains that the relative summer warmth was slowly fading away. Temperatures at sea level had already dropped to the single digits, and it wouldn’t be long before the night-and-day cycle started shifting towards the long winter nights the place was known for.

That, however, was nothing the local returnees weren’t already used to. If anything, their new bodies actually made it easier. The majority of them (a mere two dozen, Narvik had never been densely populated) had been turned into reindeer, and the others were either the one dragon, or a couple of griffons who seemed eager to keep to the summits that surrounded the town despite the rocs sharing the skies with them. Those few times they were seen down at sea level were either at the market – however much of a stretch the term may be- or to fish for a while and replenish their supplies.

Either way, all three species were decently suited for the cold.

Now… Narvik had its uniqueness as a colony in that none of the returnees that called the region their home could have ever been called socialites. They liked their space, and it showed in how… decentralized the whole region was, to put it mildly. Narvik wasn’t so much of a colony center, as it was a commercial node where they gathered periodically to trade goods, gear and information.

Otherwise? The town population amounted to a returned married couple, both reindeer, who kept the local dock and marina stocked and maintained while they salvaged the urban center. And they ran a bar by the dockside on market days. Can’t forget that one. Most of the population lived in homesteads that dotted the shorelines of the many fjords around the town, with a scant few like the griffons living higher up in the mountains.

Gunnar could live with that kind of solution. There was always the lingering risk of rocs swooping down and attacking, but the damn birds really sucked at attacking groups. That might have been a problem for a truly isolated reindeer, but he? He had his dog Sitka, his cattle… and a herd of regular, non-magical reindeer that stuck around for no apparent reason.

Okay… maybe the reason was what he was doing to the females in the herd, but there was no way he was giving out that secret. You just get lonely sometimes, working the farm on your own at the end of a nearly inaccessible fjord.

Life and trade had reached a routine of sorts. He had his cattle to care for, a few patches of vegetables to maintain – and maybe build a greenhouse for before winter fully set in-, and stores he needed to build up enough to feed the cattle and all the (feral) reindeer he was accommodating on his homestead.

Telekinesis or not, tough work on your own.

He knew his own fields weren’t enough to make feed for all the animals. That’s where trade came in. He had a small sailboat tied up at the pier near his farm which he used to carry his supplies to Narvik once a week for trade. Out: milk from the cows, wool from the sheep, vegetables in general, and some medicinal plants he gathered from the woods around the farm. The woods with the magic rock carvings.

Gunnar suspected the magic in the air was why all his vegetables grew so fast, as well as the medicinal plants. Might be worth planting a few saplings to see how fast he could make lumber.

Regardless of that, all the stuff he brought to Narvik with the sailboat, he traded for supplies. Feed for his cattle mostly, plus some oil for his generator. The feed was rather cheap thanks to a couple algae farmers that produced it in bulk for the one fish farm that had been reactivated, so acquiring it in bulk posed little trouble and let him keep the best food for himself.

A decent trade, with the infrequent addition of extras like ammo, tools and parts… which he didn’t really like buying. Not because he didn’t need it, but because the uselessness of currency had forced the local market back into direct bartering. You try and convince someone a couple crates of tomatoes are worth a hundred rounds of 12 gauge. And he was among the lucky bunch: he produced food. Everyone needed food.

No such luck for those few folks that didn’t have a generally traded commodity to exchange.

He didn’t pay that much attention to them though. He had his routine every time he journeyed with his sailboat to Narvik:

Offload the sales products and trade them for what he needed in bulk by noon.

Pay off the reindeer couple that maintained the docks with a crate of vegetables.

Exchange the leftovers for miscellaneous supplies. Exotic food was always a plus, even canned.

Keep an extra load of goods – any would do- for the weekly visit at the temple.

That last one wasn’t actually much of a temple. They just called it that since it was pretty much how they used it. Previously, the building had been a little wooden church by the waterfront, a tidy white-painted building with solid stone foundations. Now, it was about another kind of Gods entirely. And it showed in the removal of previous Christian effigies and decorations, all of them now replaced with ancient Nordic symbolism, runes, and a stone altar where the preacher’s pulpit used to be.

As ironic a reversal as it could get given their history.

Surprisingly enough considering how close he lived to the convergence point, it wasn’t actually Gunnar that first came into contact with their ancient gods. That merit went to the colony’s lone dragon, a stout member of his species with thick diamond-shaped red scales and a very angular snout that accentuated his yellow eyes. The angles carried on into the rows of dark red spikes he sported on the back of his head, their darker tone serving as a sort of stand-in for hair. He may not have been very tall for a teenager of his species, but by virtue of being the only bipedal in a colony of quadrupeds, he still towered above everyone from griffons to reindeer.

Agmund.

He used to be a miner before the Event happened, and he had been hiking up in the mountains when he reappeared all red and fiery. Nobody knew what kind of standing stone, rock carving or burial mound he found, but by the time he came back down, the dragon was clad in yellow and blue robes and proclaiming himself a representative of Thor.

Did they think he was a looney?

Did they still think he was a looney after lightning struck down a sea serpent that had popped up close to town? On a clear day?

You couldn’t fault the inhabitants of Narvik for not being practical-minded. One God they had never seen, the other saved the harbor and had a magically-gifted dragon serving as his envoy.

The case was closed as soon as it was opened. The conversion was quick. Now… weekly visits by the temple were considered the norm, and offerings at the altar a promise of protection from monsters. Not a single one of them had appeared out of a summoning circle in the region ever since the temple had opened.

Didn’t stop rocs from flying in every few days, but so long as that wasn’t a sea serpent popping up out of nowhere, the improvement was palpable. Monsters that moved normally you could always track. Not those that teleported inside your homestead.

That week’s service wasn’t too different from the others. They did the usual procession where Agmund presented their offerings to the Aesir and the gifts were swallowed up at the altar in a flash of light. A little sermon was given, though it felt more like stories about the Gods’ adventures and other legends, and a pair of mated griffons received a blessing for their coming eggs much to the cheers of the assembly before they slowly filtered out of the temple.

What did that leave in Gunnar’s routine then?

The last social event of the day before he was set to pick up his boat from the dock and head back to his farm.

The bar of course.

He didn’t fail the routine this week either. The bar by the docks was the best occasion to keep track of what the other homesteads were doing and what projects were being undertaken around the area. There were rumors about possible trade opportunities in the future coming from a few radio enthusiasts, a couple algae farmers asking for help to expand their operations – that one he raised his hoof for-, a couple reindeer flirting in plain sight in a corner of the bar around a heavily inebriated youngster, laughing.

Seriously though. Temple service had been over for less than an hour, and this kid was already piss-out drunk? Thor almighty the youth these days…

“Didn’t take you for such a grump pal.” He heard Sven say behind him as his friend joined him at a quieter table while he shuffled a deck of cards in his telekinesis.

While sipping from his beer at the same time. Praise be given to the almighty telekinesis.

Sven was his griffon friend, a fairly muscular mix of an eagle-owl and a lynx with sharp orange eyes and the prominent ear tufts of eagle-owls. He wasn’t of the couple that just got their blessing at the temple, being decidedly single and all too glad to keep to the ruins of the ski station further up the mountains for most of the time.

“I’m not a grump, I just like my peace and quiet.” Gunnar dropped his now empty pint down on the table with a clatter.

“Yet you come here every week.” The griffon chuckled as he slid inside the chair facing him.

Gunnar threw him a brief glance. As per usual, his friend had eschewed what would be considered sufficient clothing at this latitude, instead having opted for a pair of gym shorts for decency’s sake, and a harness tightly wound around his avian half with pouches for utility.

Bold choice north of the arctic circle. Fur or not, Gunnar still didn’t feel like ditching human clothing standards. His flannel shirt and denim overalls? Tacky he knew, hot as all Hel for a reindeer like him, but he was sticking to his guns.

“You and I both know coming here is as much of a necessity as me realizing I can’t become some crazy lone hillbilly.” The cards he was shuffling stopped and he served Sven a hand. “How was your week then? Done fixing up your truck I saw. Ain’t jealous some griffons are getting some action while you’re on your own?”

“Not at all.” Sven fanned out his talons. “Pair bonding for life? Buddy, I’d rather be careful with that. Make sure I don’t pick the wrong hen, and we’re not exactly ripe for choice in these parts. But yeah… truck’s fixed. Just needed to rewire the electricity for a bit. Took me an afternoon in the shop, but I’d rather have it to haul supplies than do it all by wing. The ski station is nice and all, but it’s a bitching time getting up and down.”

“Yeah, you bet.” Gunnar paused to wave at the waitress and request another pint. “I know I can fly, and I do, but carrying supplies while running on air? Did that once. Not twice. Why do you keep to the ski station anyway? Can’t see what’s in it for you.”

“Crazy good radio coverage my dude. Those WSU contacts you gave me? I got a satellite setup ready to chat with their DJ. Helps with the boredom, and she gives me plenty of tips. I just pass on questions from the others. Hel, the other day she even sent me a weather warning about the little storm that passed through. That’s worth the boredom of the Mile-High Club.” Sven explained, casually leaning back in his chair as he examined the cards in his talons.

Gunnar critically eyed the griffons, seeing him fidget in his seat ever so slightly. And that wasn’t his usual reaction to a bad hand.

“You know you suck at subtlety.” He pointed out after a minute.

“Okay, fine.” He clicked his beak and dropped the cards.

Looky here… a pair of eights at best.

“You figured I had to deal with the whole ‘owl’ part with my transformation I hope, right?” Sven asked him.

“Well, duh.” Gunnar snorted. “Is that your problem? That you live at night, so the current daylight-cycle annoys you at this latitude?”

“No – wait, yes actually- it’s infuriating. But that’s not what I’m getting at.” He leaned forward, claws propped on the table. “Flying through the mountains by night,you don’t get bothered by rocs… but I saw stuff.”

“Monsters?”

“Ain’t sure. There’s that circle of standing stones by a lake near the summit. Spotted flashes of light coming from there the other day. The next day? I see a burned-out summoning circle. Tracks too. Footsteps… but small.” He told his friend in a voice low enough that the other bar attendants didn’t hear him.

“Worries you?”

“I want to investigate. With you. Just to make sure I’m no fool before I go and tell everybody.”

Sven cautiously glanced to the rest of the crowd. They were still distracted by the drunk reindeer on the opposite side of the room, or just busy hashing out deals.

“I followed the steps a bit before I decided I needed you. Here...” Sven pulled out his phone. “… went back in the morning. Took a picture.”

He flipped through a few documents, using his knuckles to interact with the touchscreen so his talons wouldn’t damage it, before he finally slid it across the table to Gunnar who grabbed it in his telekinesis.

There on the screen… was a mine entrance. Not a regular one mind, because that one was entirely carved out of the cliff face, a very squarish style with linear patterns added to it for decorations… and glowing runes lining the pillars.

“Your call?” Sven queried.

Gunnar slid the phone back across the table and took a short minute to answer.

“I still need to help at the algae farm so I get better prices on the cattle feed. You let me do that next week, I’ll call you by sat phone when I’m ready to head in. Looks dangerous. Don’t go without me, we’re hitting this thing… around Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest. Got it?” He paused. “And tell Agmund. I feel this is the kind of stuff a cleric like him can help us with.”

Author's Notes:

I'd believe of all artifacts to be selected to fit the Element of Magic/Sorcery, Merlin's staff would be a pretty decent pick. Not like he needs it anyway. Ghost him has a ghostly staff already, and the half of his soul that's in Equestria as Starswirl doesn't even need a staff.

On another note... yeah, Aleksei doesn't actually have many combat spells. She's a fertility cleric, so for all the utility she gets with rituals, 'speechcraft' charms, basic healing and midwifery spells, of course she'd be a bit limited in the realm of combat. Not defenseless, but limited.

Unlike gargoyles. The point with them was that they're extremely versatile and can easily create their own spells, but they lack the endurance and standing power other magically-gifted races would have, like unicorns.

...

Technically, in a setting where there are clerics, I guess that would make gargoyles and unicorns sorcerers? The magic is obtained through their race/lineage after all.