The city of London sweltered in the heat of summer, 1858. But it was not merely the sun that scorched the metropolis. An even more unpleasant force infested its very heart: the River Thames. Years of industrial effluents had transformed London's lifeblood into a nauseating odor. The stench was oppressive, a miasma that clung to every cobblestone an

The year 845 AD. A chill wind blasted across the Seine River, carrying with it the scent carrying salt and fear. The Norsemen were upon us, a horde swarm of warriors seeking riches. Their longships, like wolves, sliced through the waters, their banners waving in the wind. A city once proud now trembled beneath the menace of Valhalla's embrace. Pari