"Old man, where am I?"
Thick woolly clothes and heavy hide boots. The tingling sensation from the cold was gone, but Wulf wondered. There was no sign of frostbite or cold despite being repeatedly sprayed with Arctic waters, ice, and chilling winds.
When he glanced at the old man, he would see him shielding himself from the arctic spray.
"We've left the valley between the Ursine lands and the frozen northern tundra," the old man says, pulling in the oar and adjusting the sail.
"I have no idea what you just said. What continent is this? Where is this?"
"Valoran. This is the Freljord, boy. Answer me in return. What are you? What is your reason for existence?"
"What do you mean?" Wulf asks, confused.
The old man's hardened gaze rests on Wulf for a moment, judging him.
"My traveling companions betrayed me. Killed by that creature..." he shuddered. "Their ashes flew up to its eye, and like water filling a cup, you were... created."
"What? That doesn't make any- well, none of this makes sense," Wulf said. Something was itching the back of his mind as the old man spoke. "Alright, let's say all that is true. Freljord. Why the fuck were you trying- "
Wulf went silent again, bobbing his head side to side. "Ah, never mind. I understand why... and I'm human."
"Think first before you speak, boy. You waste energy and my ears."
"Stop calling me boy. I'm not a boy and my name is Wulf. I'm from the States, from America."
"Never heard of it," the old man says gruffly. "You say you're human. And from places I've never heard of. What's the last thing you remember?"
"I was drinking with some friends after some training," Wulf said, throwing a mock punch out.
The old man eyes his punch wryly before shaking his head, taking a seat with a tired sigh."You've never fought, have you?"
"N-no... Not outside of training. I tend to keep it civil."
The old man snorts. "Civil. Well, assuming you're truthful, boy, welcome to the Freljord. You're on the Valoran continent. I assume you have experience with the cold given your... hobby?"
Wulf's face flushes. "N-No... I don't know why I was naked, and I don't know why, but I haven't felt cold since I arrived. I had clothes on before I left!" he adds at the end, feeling embarrassed.
"Yeh sure? Not doing some nude fighting with your 'partner'?"
"Fuck you, no!" Wulf growls, teeth clenching.
"You don't have the face or build of a warrior, but the strength of one. You sound like a warmblood, but have the resistance of an Iceborn."
The old man chuckles and waves him off dismissively.
Taking a deep breath, Wulf glances over the edge of the boat into the water. He'd never seen such clean water, nor such pure skies. There was always a haze, a smog, wherever he went.
'I've never gone hiking or fishing,' Wulf thought, frowning as he looked out across the sea and the distancing land. What he did know, however, was that his stomach was starting to churn as his hand rested on it.
The old man grins off to the side, eyeing his hand.
"This is going to be fun," the old man comments with a grin. "Oh, boy, my name is Bjerg of the Ebrataal clan. Remember it well."
Scowling, Wulf glances at his obnoxious grin for a moment before looking back at the water- his reflection. He blinks.
"The fuck?!" It was him, but younger-looking. Late teens?
"Son of a bitch!"
"Describing yourself?"
"Fucking- NO!" Wulf snaps, glaring at Bjerg, who held a hand behind his back. "My face, everything- it's younger! Why the fuck am I younger?!"
"I'm not a sage nor priest."
Wulf's hands hang open toward him in frustration before he grips his head and growls again, turning back to the water. Softer face, more black hair on his head, less wear and tear- he was younger!
Was he happy or angry? He couldn't figure it out.
Taking a few deep breaths, silence falls upon the sailboat until Wulf breaks it again.
"What were you doing up so far in the north?" Wulf asks, trying to change the subject.
"An expedition. Exploring. Searching for relics, runes, and new animals my people could use. Ancient structures. There are many lost stories in these lands from the Lost Ones."
"And your friends? Why did they betray you?"
"They wanted to save themselves. Like anyone does. But they were oath-sworn after stealing from the winter granaries," Bjerg said. "And when they chose to break their oath, Avarosa delivered judgment swiftly."
Silence fell, and the two parted ways back to their corners of the sailboat. Soon, it was night, and Wulf struggled to sleep. His side pulsed with pain, and his breathing was rough.
Sweat beaded down his forehead as memories of his talk with the creature began to flood back into him. He awoke with a loud gasp, the moon high in the sky, and Bjerg warily looking over at him from across the boat.
"Sorry," Wulf muttered before laying back down.
'Fuck. League of Legends. I'm fucked.'
The next morning, their conversation continued.
"What was your profession?" Bjerg asks.
"I was a wealth plan-" Wulf paused, looking at the desolate lands. "A trader."
"A trader? Yeh trade. Trade what?"
"...Money..."
"That doesn't make sense. Money is money alone without something. Surely yeh caught fish to sell, or peddled goods?"
Wulf shook his head. "No... and I don't know how to do any of that."
"What?" Bjerg's eyebrows cocked in confusion, and he started rattling off things someone in a rural country might be able to do- hunting, fishing, raising animals, sewing, carpentry, metalworking.
But to each one, Wulf said no.
"By Avarosa, boy, you're useless! And the most you've done is play fight with woolly mittens?!"
"Well, I mean, where I came from I had a use and skills. But none of them seem useful here."
"Aye! You sound like a con artist selling money for money promises!"
"It is different where I come from."
"You keep saying that, but as it stands now, you are useless. Worse than an unscarred or a newborn, and it takes more food to keep your sorry arse alive!"
Sucking in air, Wulf looked out at land that was fast approaching and changed his tune to be more upbeat. "Well, could you teach me? I can help out and learn! Otherwise, I'll-"
"Aye, aye. I wouldn't let a newborn baby starve to death, nor would I let a boy. It will be a struggle to feed two mouths alone as we make our to my village."
Wulf couldn't respond. He had nothing he could say. Without Bjerg teaching him something- anything- he may be as good as dead soon.
He didn't know whether he should thank or curse the creature that brought him here. Yet as the lands neared, he knew he had his work cut out for him.