123From the journal of Svōkka Jorison, Orcish Jarl of the Snjá-driv Mountains (translated from the Orc prose to the common tongue for the reader's understanding):
"I and eleven more had just returned from a successful raid and found that tragedy had struck: our homes and the great mead-hall Hospitality were wreathed in flame! Thinking to aid, we brought water forward- but this fire was of no natural start, nor mortal, and water and snow only disappeared in steam before our eyes. Then, seeing the cause, we dropped our loot and gripped tightly our arms; our trusty swords and axes! For a furious daemon stood in a cyclone of fire, black beyond the darkest night even as flames leapt from it's crown. We attacked, and oddly felt little heat even inches away, but upon contact with the fire, our bodies were as kindling... three then and one of his wounds did we lose, before we got the better of our senses and ran, forgetting honour for the sake of life.
Later, it was found that the village we had raided was blessed and protected by Loki, and when it fell, he sent one of his infernal champions to destroy us.
It seems to be gone for the moment, but I am sure it will not depart this plane until we rest in death..."
The rest of the parchment had been blackened beyond recognition. What happened after is surely obvious...
Pic is link to the flickr photoset; If I feel like it I'll put it up on Brickshelf too. Please let me know what you think!