'Twas the night before Halloween, candleflame tickled the foggy air while aging tapestries swayed softly in the cold breeze coming through one of several broken windows.

"Did you bring him?" JNH inquired, although seemingly knowing the answer already.

"He's in my company, but was not I who brought him." SD answered, removing the hood from the shackled figure behind him. " 'Twas the God of Burds who willed him here."

There he stood, Ty, son of Lar, the prince of Newfoundland and heir to the crown. With his hood removed he could gather his surroundings, his mind scanning frantically for means of escape that the chains of which bound his wrists would ultimately render futile.

Hooded figures circled an old, splintering table which held engravings of vikings and lions. Engravings which meant unreadable hieroglyphs to some but not to Ty, son of Lar, for Ty, son of Lar it meant everything. He was to be the newest gift to the God of Burds, and he was to be the one whose sacrifice brings glory to the realm of Newfoundland once again.

"Very well." JNH said, unsheathing a ceremonial knife which stretched near a meter long. "Lay our God's offering on the table and let us begin."

The hooded tribesmen began in unison, erupting in a thundering chant.

"HE WHO FEEDS THE GOD OF BURDS BRING GLORY TO MEN WHO SPEAK THESE WORDS
HE WHO FEEDS THE GOD OF BURDS BRING GLORY TO MEN WHO SPEAK THESE WORDS
HE WHO FEEDS THE GOD OF BURDS BRING GLORY TO MEN WHO SPEAK THESE WORDS"

And it concluded. Ty, son of Lar lie on the offering table no longer, instead lies in the great halls of the Ascended Foundland with legions of heroes that once called the realm of Newfoundland their home, men who surround the Tribe of Berserkers with glorious, bountiful energy for the rest of time.

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