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Invocation 3

This is not proper seidr, not the proper rituals and offerings, the art of the volva. This is makeshift, improvised, everything in motion, everything always changing, little time to make it proper, but there is still a seething in Akimoto's body and mind that may yet be enough to carry his will across the Nine Worlds (once it seemed, to him, such a large number...).

The rooftop is so very far from the halls, the smoke of the hearth, the smell of fur, the roll of the waves under the boat, the feel of the shore under foot when the raid began. Everything he once knew to be true.

Though... Even then did he not have visions of somewhere else? Where ships sailed not on the water but in the night sky, where other, stranger magic gave life to mighty armour and channeled fire like arrows... A place like a home before home, and battles to rival Ragnarok. 

Was it that place he sought when he first began his vision quest? Or had he never left the hall at all, these ceaseless adventures and oddities only the seething of divine madness granted by Odin Allfather?

Facing east, Akimoto raises his sword and traces the shape of the first rune in the air.