Victoria Vale on RolePlayer - www.roleplayer.me/01Angel13Muse93

"Waves are but water. wind but air. and though lighting be fire...yet it must answer thunders call."

Prince Odinson Location: Old asgard

� � � � Gorr was right that infernal truth no matter how many morrow's passed or barrels of mead he consumed that wretched truth could not be unspoken. A thousand curses Odinson railed at Fury for what he did and thousands more for no words to rebuke this revelation. Lifting the massive tree up by its trunk he placed it down on the ground firmly shaking its roots down as unlike earth trees Asgardian trees were more regenerative if restored to soil in time. Perhaps this endeavor was a selfless act to restore nature to its original state but some would argue restoring a lost realm of gods is the greatest form of hubris. Nothing he did seemed to satisfy the gaping hole in his heart that strove to find some peace.�

Walking to where he planted his axe plucking it from the ground to head over to the location near the impact crater of the ultimate�hammer. Digging up soil near the area to plant fresh grass seed moving along the dirt at random intervals to randomize its growth pattern. Toiling away for hours his mind raced over the day he lost his hammer like a broken tape. Reliving the agony over and over as if it were the only way to feel alive�until the sound of thunder echoed. It was the hammer that lay no more then a few feet away calling out for its master.

Declining to lift the mallet as it was not his to despite being worthy of its power tapping into it's power connected the two in a way that was unlike anything he experienced before. Looking upon it with doubt, greed, delight and hate all tumbling through him in waves. He walked over to it and placed his hand around the handle otherworldly lightly coursed in his veins. "Where you only mine to lift I would Mjolnir steady thy thunder another will answer the call." The�feel of uru in his hand was nearly good as sex alas he had to resist the temptation.

Releasing the mallet the whisper of the hammer ringing in his ears "Who so ever holds this hammer if he be worthy shall possess the power of Thor." Thor...a name he no longer held and for which another did far better then he ever had in his entire immortal life. The irony of Jane Foster being the bearer of that weapon not lost on him finding it�appropriate somehow. No one�else in the nine realms had the heart she did or more worth of it. It did not however stop the wounding pain of it being her who lifted it or that it was killing her.�

What he understood the�cancer treatment was nullified each time she held the hammer and the effects of her illness were gradually increasing. He could not fathom her insistence on not using magic to heal her of what was killing her only that if nothing was done she would die. Shaking away the thought but not so easily the�despair he called on heimdall to open the bifrost. Entering the swirling multicolored vortex to appear on Midgard near the town of Tromsoe in Norway a sleep little village center that was home to one�of the best Mead producers. Judging that liquid could surely be of use at the moment walking into the bar where he sat near the counter.�

"Bar wench one pint of the finest mead and do keep them coming" he reached in his shirt for the few coins he kept in a shallow pocket tossing the gold pieces on the counter. A bartender took the coins nodding as she came back with a pint to slide it over. Grasping it with the flesh and blood hand he still hand the sensation of a cold brew in hand a welcome one. Drinking down a bit of that nectar wiping his mouth looking at his reflection in the mirror. The stranger staring back was not one he recognized but one that he knew�the realms needed.�

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