Frank was instantly ripped out of his dissociative state, he was, after all, just a baby now. The seeress' eyes shown with a bright yellow light when he came back. The look of shock and concern on the faces of everyone present was enough to let Frank know something had changed.
He felt the warmth fade away and noticed a stinging sensation on his neck. The sensation faded away as the old woman chanted a few more gibberish words. Then she spoke to his parents with a hushed but frantic tone.
*"This has never happened before." said the seeress. "He fought back against the soul vision, an infant should not possess the strength of will to do so. Not only that, but he bares a woad that I have never seen."*
*Asha, what does this mean?" said Tarra." Has an infant ever received their first marking at this age?"*
*"There are stories of such things." said Asha . "Though I have never witnessed it myself, at least until now."*
*"Do you have any idea what his woad represents?"* Asked Erik. His deep baritone voice echoed in the hushed chamber.
*"I will consult the book of runes Erik," said Asha. "But I have been through them many times and never come across this marking before."*
All the concerned expressions and raised voices had caused Frank to grow worried, he new something was wrong. Unbeknownst to him, he bore a mark, what his family called a woad, on the left side of his neck. The woad, what Frank referred to as tattoos, was a visual representation of the skills, spells, and bloodlines a member of his new race possessed.
Frank's was unknown to his people, it resembled two runic B's set at mirror images, both sharing the same spine. However, the tops of the B's were left incomplete and the spine continued up past the opening and split into 3 sharp, but short, points. It pulsed with a very faint blue light. Almost unnoticeable compared to his parents.
*"He possesses a strong will,"Asha began. "He is a fitting inheritor of your families bloodlines. Have you chosen a name that would represent his strength?"*
*"We have chosen the name Torbjorn." said both Tarra and Erik, almost in unison.
*"Ahh, the name of your great grandfather." Asha said to Tarra. "May little Tor possess the strength of a bear, as did his namesake."*
Both Tarra and Erik bowed to Asha in gratitude. In their culture the volva must approve of the chosen name of a child. The ritual she completed upon their entry into the Hall of the Gods was designed to gauge a childs temperament and potential. It did this by sending the child through a series of visions to simulate their reactions to certain emotional stimuli.
Asha could not see what the child saw, only feel the emotions present during the ritual. As a result she had a good idea of whom the child would become. In this culture a person's name was a reflection of this, thus needing Asha's approval. Torbjorn was the name of a great warrior and the patriarch of Tarra's family.
With their chosen name given Asha's endorsement, they preceded to exit the Hall. They still had many questions, but for now they would celebrate the naming of their first born son.
They exited the corridor and presented little Tor to the waiting crowd. Frank/Tor's parents were not nobles as he had come to think. They were both great warriors, both captains in rank, from proud families. This status was far more important to the commoners in their culture than any noble birth.
Tor was held high above his father's head and his name was spoken to the cheers and applause of those gathered. The pride and happiness on his parents faces was evident. Now the whole village knew that his parents believed he would be a great warrior and Asha agreed.
Frank/Tor's opinion was one of confusion and relief. "Well at least now I have a name. Although I'm not sure if Torbjorn is better or worse than Francis." He thought. "I'm just glad that whatever issue there was in that room seems to have been resolved."
Over the course of the next few weeks Tor's life remained basically the same. After the initial excitement and confusion wore off from his family. He began working to grow stronger and more importantly, learn the language of his new people. All doubts he previously held about waking from this dream had almost faded completely away.
He had started to spend a lot of time with his sisters and his grandfather. His mother had long since recovered from his birth and needed to resume her duties as a captain.
His sisters spoke to him as one would expect young girls to speak to a baby, fawning over him and using baby talk. Though this was annoying to a 30 year old man, Tor found that he liked both of his new sisters a great deal. His grandfather on the other hand, spoke to him like an adult. He had been the one to help Tor learn the language faster than he thought possible. He would carry him around the room and point to various items and give them a name. After several weeks of this Tor had a more than basic understanding of his new language. What he still couldn't quite understand was the casual way they all seemed to use ....magic.
Even the youngest of his 2 sisters could light a fire with the snap of her fingers, they could conjure water at will and seemed to have some sort of command over all the basic elements. His grandfather noticed his little eyes getting wider at the site and began explaining the basics to him. More just to talk to him than to actually teach him.
This is also how he learned his grandfather was the shaman of his village and was a renowned healer. His given name was Folkvar. He was also a fierce warrior in his own rite. Wielding elemental power beside his Ulfberht sword. If the man's size and number of woad markings were any indication, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Tor's father Erik was known as "The Wall", his reputation for standing his ground against insurmountable numbers of enemies was known to all in Tor's village.
His mother was known as "Sway" or "The Spear of the Gods." Her reputation being an agile and ferocious opponent. Able to strike from any angle with unbelievable speed.
With all of this information being told to him from his grandfather, it occurred to him that he must have been reborn into a warrior culture. The last thing Tor wanted was to fight, ever again. Fighting had cost him everything he loved in his past life and he refused to repeat the same mistakes.
With Tor's decision not to fight made, he wondered how that might reflect on him coming from a family of soldiers. He let the thoughts slip from his mind. He knew he had time before any of that would become relevant. Right now all he wanted to do was enjoy a second chance.
Time moved quickly and as soon as his new body would allow it, Tor was walking. He could now carry on conversations and was almost fluent in his new language. All of this before he turned 2 years old. His family and the people of his village that saw him thought he was a genius. Tor on the other hand, had been holding back. Being a 30 year old man in an infants body, he thought it wise to not show all of his cards just yet. Even though he had attracted a lot of attention, he didn't want to attract too much.