At The Gates of Hel

Balar could not get used to the transformation in Jorrik and he was not sure he trusted it. He would have trusted the man Jorrik with his life, but how much of the man remained? One thing was for sure if not for the huge forms of the Jotun and Aesir their would have struggled to wade through this mass of rotting flesh.

They came at last to the walls of Hels palace. A black iron gate rose up before them and as they approached the dead began to thin out leaving space for them to move more easily.

An old crone sat on the ground before the gates. Her eyes had been gouged out by the looks of the scars on her face and she gaped at them with a toothless mouth. In her arms she held what looked to be a swaddled babe, which she sat petting and stroking, with the occasional cooing sound when it shifted.

The crone cocked her head to one side as the group approached and smiled.

"Ah she said you would be along so she did..oh my a Jotun and an Aesir walking together, and here's me without my good teeth in. Oh my." and with that she threw we head back in a wild cackle. The bundle in her arms shifted and whined and she hurriedly stroked it with her bony fingers.

"There now my love, old Sara didn't mean to scare you. Oh my, there there."