Again

The hooded man revealed himself to be a young Pedro Pascal or the Oberyn Martell of this world.

While the two may not share any bond, Mimirsen knew that most worlds would have a similar face and plot as, limitless may imagination be, after a trillion or so universe, things are bound to be repetitive.

"This is the way." Oberyn came down from his horse to point in the North direction to Ocean Road, which headed towards Westerlands.

"Mandalorian?"

While The Mandalorian was to come out in 2019, Mimirsen had pulled some strings to release it in 2018, but he was not able to watch it then too. So after being bored of his mind, reading and watching all the majors, he borrowed the Time stone from the sorcerer supreme to watch the shows which were released in the future.

"Mando what?"

"Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne."

"Strange of someone who I have not met to identify me, much less a Northern man. Your kind is rare south of the Moat" Oberyn gained his princely aura.

"Nothing much just asking for some coins from the southern lords, in the name of the Warden of the North."

"I did not take the Starks to become beggars, Winter is not faring too well for the North huh?" Oberyn sounded almost sarcastic.

"Nothing of that sort, My prince, just some coin for development and all that. How is exile treating you though? Last I heard you were on your way back from the free cities."Jim returned the jab.

"Can't say it's bad, had the best of both in the free cities, tough competition to the Dornish standards they are." He raised the chains on his neck then. "And got some nice chains from the Citadel." There were chains representing poison and smithing among others.

"Good for you-+0.0001% Jim felt it the rise in Odin force output for the day.

'that was out of the blue. The output straight-up doubled. Thats strange,'

'This means that no one asked anything from the Old gods for one whole day which I refuse to believe can be true. Or-'

"Is Something the matter?"

"No, no, just felt somebody was calling for me.''

"So, you are heading to Crakehall?"

"That is the plan, will be taking a ship the North from there."

"I was heading to Dorne, but if you would be kind of accompanying me to Casterly, I would be very, pleased. Haven't had a Northen man a bad for far too long."

"Lannisters? Well, it is not far from Crakehall, so why not? I could fetch as good as any ship from Lannisport. As for your other offer, Prince Oberyn." The Dornish ears perched up.

"I have to refuse. As attractive you may be, I do not indulge in the carnal acts of man."

'Nor am I allowed till I am at least 50 by our customs'

"A disappointment, have it your way, most men do not know they have the secret desire of bedding a man, or by a man. Maybe I could bring out that in you till we hit the rock."

"I very much doubt that."

"And I agree to disagree. Where is your horse at? Surely Lord Stark would have been kind to spare some coin to a messenger bearing the Direwolves name?"

"Oh, I will have to fetch another one."

"Come get on mine till we sight a stable."

"I am not sure if the Dornish Sand steed is known for its weight-carrying capabilities."

"True, it is not, but this one is special, this one is mine."

Mimirsen and Obery turned around in search of another horse, for they would ride to the Lannister's den together for the next two days.

'Well, the prayer worth one whole day of the realm praying to me needs to be answered, fortunately, the Odinforce is semi-sentient, so I just need to allow it to act on its own and just check its working afterward.'

.

.

In the true North, the true North.

Skago was leading his men and women against the 30 cannibalistic men attacking his home.

While it may be shameful for the women in the South to take arms, beyond the wall it was expected of them to do so. This was also followed by the Bear Island women.

The opposite enemy did not seem to have any archers among their group, they were just loud, shouting barbarians, and true to their act, they were running with their axe armed, ready to hit at first contact. An arrow steamed through amidst Skago's men, but a gust of wind changed its course, rendering it useless, or so someone of the opposite would have thought, but not Skago.

The arrow went true to its aim, in the eye of the leading invader, piercing the eyeball and touching the back of his skull. He fell, which was noticed by his companions, but their march never halted.

Skaog's men waited for them to close down, and when in range threw the old and unusable axes, icicles, or whatever could harm the coming devils in human skin. Another arrow made its way to the closest of the bunch, rendering him immobile, probably dead.

Their initial numbers were 15 to 30, but it had come down to 15 to 27 without anyone from Skago's side actively participating.

Skago paced himself while his tribesmen followed, and stuck his axe in the hand holding weapon of his enemy, following with another in his head.

On his side, Bronn kicked the closest of the bunch, while clean-cutting the neck of another from the nape.

"WraaaaaaAAAAAaaaHH!!!1"

A strong one of the invaders pushed Skago away, punching Brinn in the throat and snatching his axe. He then pushed the axe deep into Bronn's thigh in the heat of the moment, while defending another attack to his back.

Bronn's cries were unheard in the cries of the small skirmish they called a battle. While this was going on, arrows rained one at a time killing the men effectively with one shot.

After 7 targets, 6 dead and one immobile, the arrows in Skago's lady archer's quiver. The battle was near its end, so she ran into the brawl with an axe of her own. Naming another kill, this one with an axe.