Vikted: Go Green
Title: The Pretty and the Viking In a land where frost met flame and thunder rolled over green hills, two warriors walked side by side—bound not by blood, but by destiny. She was Janeke, a woman whose beauty was as fierce as her sword. Her eyes sparkled like the stars she studied at night, and her mind was sharper than the twin daggers she kept at her hips. Villagers called her “the flame with a smile”—because she burned bright and left no enemy standing. He was Peanut, the Viking with the strength of a bear and the soul of a wolf. His real name was lost to time, but the nickname came from a joke Janeke made long ago—one he took as a badge of honor. With an axe carved from stormwood and a howl that could silence armies, Peanut struck fear in hearts… and laughter in Janeke’s. They had known each other since childhood. When the raiders first came to burn their home, they fought with sticks. When the great beasts came from the northern mountains, they fought with blades. And when the war of the nine clans broke out—when fire rained from the sky and giants walked the earth—they fought with all they had. Together. They were different. Janeke moved like wind and flame—swift, clever, dancing through shadows. Peanut was the storm—loud, unstoppable, cracking bones like thunder. But together, they were balance. Grace and force. Fire and stone. Then came The Last War. Ten thousand soldiers on each side. Warlords with cursed weapons. Dark mages riding winged horrors. Everyone knew it would last years. Everyone… except Janeke and Peanut. On the eve of battle, they looked at each other by the firelight. “Are you scared?” Peanut asked, his beard singed from a training mishap. Janeke smiled, brushing soot off his shoulder. “Only scared we’ll run out of enemies.” At dawn, they walked alone to the center of the battlefield. The armies watched in silence. Janeke raised her hands, and the wind obeyed. Fire danced across her skin, wrapping her like armor. She whispered words in the Old Tongue—and the sky went still. Peanut planted his axe in the ground. Lightning struck it—twice. He roared once. Just once. Every beast, man, and monster within five miles dropped their weapons. And then… it was over. The war ended that day. Not with blood, but with awe. The generals bowed. The mages fled. The soldiers sang of peace. And so began a new chapter. They built a hall at the edge of the world, where snow met sea. There, they trained the next generation—boys and girls who wanted to fight not for power, but for peace. They carved their stories in the stones and whispered their dreams to the stars. But the world is never quiet for long. Darkness still stirs. Old gods whisper. New enemies rise. And Janeke and Peanut? They’re still ready. For though beauty may fade and storms may calm… legends never die. Their tale has only just begun.
Part One: Meeting Janeke Before everything changed, our parents—mine and Janeke’s—were always together in the village. The only place where stories flowed like beer was a big old hall, something between a bar and a battlefield of words. Long wooden tables, rough chairs, loud voices, and laughter filled the air. I’d never set foot there until one day, my father—one of the village’s greatest warriors—looked at me and said, “You’re old enough now to drink with real men.” That night changed everything. Not long after, Janeke’s parents brought her in too. She was older than me by a good few years, but that didn’t matter. She was beautiful—sharp eyes, a sharper tongue—and a warrior in her own right. Smarter than me in battle, better at planning, and fearless in ways I couldn’t understand back then. From that moment, we were bound. Her fight became my fight. When we drank, the world became a joke. She had a wicked habit: she'd walk up to a group of strangers, grin like a devil, and say, “My cousin over there wants to fight all of you,” and then point straight at me. That was my cue. Either I was about to get punched, or she was going to vanish into the shadows, laughing until her stomach hurt. But we had fun—real fun. No day or night was ever dull with Janeke around. Seeing her laugh, watching her fight beside me... those were the days worth living for.
Part Two: The First Quest After knowing Janeke for a while, things took a turn one wild night. We got drunk—like really drunk—and somewhere between her Viking songs and my half-finished beer, she started whispering about a quest. Apparently, rumors had been circling through the people like smoke through trees. And somehow—don’t ask me how—she convinced me to go on it. Her idea of “as soon as possible” meant that same night. I was drunk. She was drunk. And all I could think was: How the hell does she always twist my arm like this? She kept singing songs about ancient gods and warriors, louder and prouder with every step. We were still drinking on the way to the so-called quest, bottles clinking like war drums. When I say we “set up camp,” what I really mean is: we passed out next to a roaring fire by the river. To this day, I have no memory of how we even built that fire. Magic? Madness? Probably both. Morning came like a slap. This was it—Quest Day. Only one small problem: Janeke had completely forgotten what the quest was. And I had no clue what she’d told me about it either. All she remembered was which direction to go. Sort of. We started walking. Then suddenly, the air shifted. Cold stabbed through the daylight, and just like that, everything went dark. It felt like the world had blinked—and we were standing in its shadow. Janeke’s eyes lit up. “This is the way!” she shouted, and before I could stop her, she ran headfirst into the darkness. Of course, I followed. And what we found on the other side was…
Part 3: The Other Side Once we crossed into the heart of the darkness, everything changed. At first, it felt like we had stepped into nothingness—pure, heavy silence. No wind. No sound. No life. Just an empty world, swallowed in ash and smoke, as if some great fire had torn through it only minutes before. The ground was blackened and soft beneath our feet, like walking on old bones and forgotten memories. And then, we saw it. In the very center of the ruined wasteland stood a single, dark green stick. It wasn’t glowing or floating or calling out—but it was waiting. The stick was the only thing untouched, upright in the ash like a survivor of some ancient war. That’s when Janeke stopped in her tracks. “I remember now,” she whispered, voice full of wonder—and fear. Before I could say anything, she ran straight toward it. No hesitation. No second thought. She grabbed the stick and yanked it from the ground. At that moment, everything shifted. Her face went pale. Her eyes widened as if some long-forgotten warning echoed in her head. “The quest… was about the stick,” she muttered. “And we weren’t supposed to touch it.” Then she looked down at her hand. “Oops,” she added with a nervous laugh. The stick crumbled instantly into a fine green dust—almost like it was alive one moment and then... betrayed. The dust didn’t fall to the ground. It rushed upward and burned itself into her back, leaving behind a glowing green line that pulsed like a heartbeat running from her shoulder to her spine. And then—nothing. Again. She collapsed. I ran to her, shouting her name, shaking her awake. No response. For a second, I thought I’d lost her. But then—just like that—Janeke opened her eyes, coughed, and stood up like nothing had happened. "Let's go home," she said, brushing ash from her shoulders. I had so many questions. But in that strange place, none of them mattered. We just walked, side by side, out of the ashlands. But I knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Part 4: Looking for Answers When we got back to the village, I turned to Janeke and asked, “Are you okay?” She looked at me, calm as ever. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “You just got struck by… whatever that thing was. And your back—it's glowing. There's a long, green line running down your spine.” She shrugged. “I’m fine.” I knew Janeke was tough—but this wasn’t just strength. This was something beyond what I understood. We said goodnight and went our separate ways, but I couldn’t let it go. I headed back to the forest, hoping for answers. But when I arrived, everything had changed. The twisted, eerie woods from earlier were gone. Now the trees stood tall and healthy, the grass was a vibrant green, and animals moved freely through the underbrush. It was like nothing strange had ever happened. Something wasn’t right. I searched the forest floor, hoping for anything out of place—and then I found it: a glowing splinter, pulsing with faint green light. It looked like a piece of the stick that had pierced Janeke. As I held it, a sharp wave of pain ran through me—not mine, but hers. I could feel her. She was hurting. I sprinted back to the village, heart pounding. Outside her home, I found Janeke—glowing brighter than ever. Her entire body shimmered with that same green light. And then… she collapsed. I rushed to her side, carried her inside, and gently laid her on her bed. She was breathing, but barely conscious. As I stood there, watching over her, I whispered to myself: “Tomorrow… we find answers.”
Part 5: Answers I woke up before anyone else. The camp was quiet, the sky still gray with early light. I still had the splinter from the darkness—it pulsed faintly in my pocket, like it remembered something I didn’t. I tied a piece of string around my neck, looping it through the splinter. That way, I would feel it if anything happened to Janeke. She was still asleep. I packed my axe and some bread, then slipped away. It wasn’t unusual for me to disappear for a few days—Janeke knew I often went hunting. But this wasn’t a hunt. This was for answers. I traveled for two days, through dense woods and tangled shadows. Eventually, I came across a village I’d only heard whispers about. Hidden deep in the forest, cloaked in silence—it was said to be a place of old magic. I asked around, looking like a lost traveler, until someone pointed me to a small house at the far end of the village. An old woman sat outside, wrapped in tattered cloth, unmoving in the cold. Before I could even speak, she said, “Magic is a strange thing.” She lifted her hands, and in a blink, my axe appeared in one of them—and the splinter in the other. Without a word, she waved her hands. Light and shadow swirled. When she was done, the splinter and the axe had fused into one: a glowing green axe that hummed with power. She handed it to me. “Everything happens for a reason,” she said. “With this axe, you and her are connected. This will make your path clearer, your destiny easier to find.” As she began to fade into the mist, she said three things: 1. Do you believe in peace? 2. When you become what you need to become, you and she will know. 3. My name is… But her name vanished with her.
Part 6: GoWhats Janeke Was Up To While I was wandering through the deep woods, searching for answers in the silence between the trees, Janeke was back home doing her usual routine—cleaning, humming to herself, and straightening up the place like she always did when no one was around. But this day… this day was different. Something had shifted. She was in a strange kind of joy—singing old songs from the village, songs she hadn’t sung in years. As her voice grew louder, more confident, something began to stir within her. A strange warmth. A pulse of energy. And then, she started to glow. A soft green light began to shine from her skin, first just a shimmer—then brighter, until it lit the entire room. Her feet left the ground, her hair lifted as if caught in a breeze that wasn’t there, and suddenly she was floating. That’s when it happened. The power inside her broke free like it had been waiting for this exact moment. Green flames burst out of her, wrapping around her body in spiraling tendrils, not burning but alive—alive with purpose. The flames shaped themselves into wings—massive, glowing wings of fire—stretching from her back and brushing the ceiling. The very ceiling itself caught fire from the heat and light. But Janeke was lost in the feeling—lost in whatever that power was. She laughed. She soared just below the burning rafters. And then, suddenly, she snapped back to herself—like waking from a dream. The flames retracted instantly, sucked back into her chest with a rush of green light. Her wings vanished. Her body dropped from the ceiling, and she landed hard on the wooden floor, coughing from the smoke. The fire still roared above her. She looked up calmly, held out both hands toward the flames, and spoke—not loudly, just firmly: “Enough.” All at once, the green fire that had begun to eat the ceiling trembled… then twisted downward, coiling like a serpent back into her open palms. In moments, it was gone—no trace of fire, no smoke, not even a scorch mark. She stood there, blinking in silence, then chuckled to herself and said, “Oh… so that’s how it works.” Far away in the forest, Peanut felt it. He felt the surge. The pulse. Without hesitation, he turned and raced back. Something was happening. And it had only just begun.
