It was abrupt, the entire situation. From awakening to the moment he was standing there and for those passing minutes, hours, days, however long it took, it felt like he only had time to take a breath and hold it, to close his eyes and open them and there he was, standing amidst the others, listening to their breathing and watching the numbers count down. It's all a shock to the system, the clothes he finds himself in are different, the surroundings are fascinating but eerie in their state, so unlike anything he had ever seen before. Even the numbers, not like his own language, are vague but he grasps the meaning, his mind in a state of wonder and awe and tension as he clenches his fists. The moment the sound rings out he moves as fast as his legs can carry him.
Ragnar Lothbrok is a warrior, mentally and physically, he knows an opportunity when he sees it and while he's not sure what it all means, not sure he likes the feeling of his feet upon this sort of terrain, he knows how to defend himself, even though the clothing upon his body feels weak, flimsy compared to what he is used to, and the choices that are at his hands the moment he reaches the Cornucopia are not something he would personally pick for battle. The knife looks ill crafted in the brief glance he gathers so he snatches up a crowbar instead, his other hand moving to snatch away a handful of rope and then he is off. This landscape is not his own, he has to find his way around it, get used to it and quickly.
He must adapt. He must keep a level head.
His feet are quick as he leaves the main concourse, the soles of his shoes collecting the dust on the floor. As tempting as it is to explore for other reasons, to see this completely different world, he knows what he must do and if he is going to die, he is going to die well to permit him access to Valhalla. No though, Ragnar does not want to perish, there is much to learn, much to explore, much to do, try to find his companions, his family again. Failure is not an option and for someone of his time and background, he knows how to handle a fight; though these different circumstances, the lack of familiar weaponry, makes him on edge.
His feet hit the waters, he settles his breath and his mind and Ragnar wanders. Keeping to the tracks to keep the noise of his movements to a minimum he sees it, just ahead in a sliver of light that flickers from the ceiling. Another figure. He grips his weapon tighter, steadying his stance and watching carefully from the shadows, stalking forward.
Ragnar Lothbrok | VIKINGS | TRIBUTE (OTA)
Ragnar Lothbrok is a warrior, mentally and physically, he knows an opportunity when he sees it and while he's not sure what it all means, not sure he likes the feeling of his feet upon this sort of terrain, he knows how to defend himself, even though the clothing upon his body feels weak, flimsy compared to what he is used to, and the choices that are at his hands the moment he reaches the Cornucopia are not something he would personally pick for battle. The knife looks ill crafted in the brief glance he gathers so he snatches up a crowbar instead, his other hand moving to snatch away a handful of rope and then he is off. This landscape is not his own, he has to find his way around it, get used to it and quickly.
He must adapt. He must keep a level head.
His feet are quick as he leaves the main concourse, the soles of his shoes collecting the dust on the floor. As tempting as it is to explore for other reasons, to see this completely different world, he knows what he must do and if he is going to die, he is going to die well to permit him access to Valhalla. No though, Ragnar does not want to perish, there is much to learn, much to explore, much to do, try to find his companions, his family again. Failure is not an option and for someone of his time and background, he knows how to handle a fight; though these different circumstances, the lack of familiar weaponry, makes him on edge.
His feet hit the waters, he settles his breath and his mind and Ragnar wanders. Keeping to the tracks to keep the noise of his movements to a minimum he sees it, just ahead in a sliver of light that flickers from the ceiling. Another figure. He grips his weapon tighter, steadying his stance and watching carefully from the shadows, stalking forward.