All Jarnbjorndled Up

February 20, 2017:

Continuing to walk his goats, Thor runs into a person from the future!

Upper East Side, Manhattan

It's the Upper East Side.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Peggy Carter, Jane Foster, Loki, Old King Thor, Galactus


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

New York City, New York - The Upper East Side.

Here, closer to Peggy's apartment than Thor's, is what one could call a mild disturbance. Traffic seems all but stopped at the approaching intersection, and while most people today might have been somewhat wary of the strange, war-bred creatures Thor is walking through the city (does he have a goat license?!), right now a great crowd has gathered and a few police officers are keeping them back from what seems to be…

A pile of shadows?

Billowing, flailing, the creature screams. The source of it's pain is quite apparent - a long-bladed spear has pinned it to the middle of the intersection, and though it resembles some sort of cephalopod given humanoid form, it is made of nothing like flesh, and everything like the stuff of living nightmares.

A song sings in the air, but not one made of music. It is the telltale glow of magic that most people cannot really perceive, forcing spines to stiffen and goosebumps to race among the crowd. All at once, they go silent, and a crack of thunder from above draws them to look skyward.

There clouds have gathered against all reason, dark and angry and swirling, and opening in the center as if to form a funnel, but one that does not reach for the ground. Another blot of shadow falls. Then another. Each creature different - one is clearly a Skrull, another, an elf of Alfheim, and yet they all share a shadowy bent.

"Get back! Get ba-"

The shadow-elf leaps, and the police officer cries his last, his head tumbling down the street to land in front of Toothgrinder, his face a mockery of horror, and yet somehow it almost looks like he was trying to say something. Maybe…

'Welcome to the neighborhood, Thor!'


That's definitely something you don't see every day, not here in this area of Midgard, at the least! Having walked out of the nearby Central Park just a minute or two prior, the good God of Thunder was waiting at a traffic light for the walk signal, his goats in tow. Between the two beasts, there are seven barrels, stamped with Asgardian runes indicating they are filled to the brim with girlish mead.

With the ruckus up ahead, Thor's expression draws into a tight frown as he squints into the near distance. He places a hand to the scruff of Toothgrinder as an object rolls to a stop just in front of the creature.

The goat leans down, sniffing at the head, and gives it a good lick.

The woman waiting next to Thor faints dead away.

The God of Thunder's frown deepens.

The crosswalk turns green.

Stepping towards the source of the disturbance, the goats still in tow, the Thunderer is not dressed for the potential battle that lies before him. Glad within a black vester - part vest, part duster - and black jeans, he's most assuredly just an incredibly handsome, ridiculously well-built tall man of New York City who just happens to have two goats carrying barrels of Asgardian's Finest.

Pushing through the crowd of former onlookers - for surely now most are fleeing, save those with Youtube channels - and past the line of police, Thor drops the reins, leaving the goats behind as he ambles ever closer to the center of the disturbance.

"What on Midgard is going on here this day?" he questions, blue eyes seeking the source, to identify friend from foe or simply to label everything as friend. His right hand trails out behind him, beckoning to something yet unseen.


As if to answer the God of Thunder, the sky itself screams at him, but not at his command. Instead it churns a violent rainbow that is most familiar in feel and appearance, but not in color. Blues are all that make up this ephemeral bridge, and as the energy washes through the intersection it will vomit forth several more beings.

All made of shadow, all, save one.

A shrieking lizardman of inky black leaps at Thor as people run for their very lives. Another one that appears to be a frost giant leaps - intent on stepping on one of the few things that do not run: One of the goats.

"How many must I slay Butcher?! How many to make my way to your jawless face, and the face of the Foul Lord of Lies! Whatever this illusion, whatever realm you have sent me to, I wil-Hel's Bells!"

The voice is.. tiny. Tiny, stern, and accented with just a hint of Old Asgardian. The fiery haired Heir to Thunder punches one creature to send it spiraling away and into a parked car, while another creature that seems to be more mouth tries to devour her whole, her fingers curled at it's massive jaws to keep them at bay.

"J..Jarnbjorn! Worthless stick! Where have you gone too?!"


As the sky shifts so dramatically, Thor's head snaps back, blue eyes focusing in on the new shapes that are inbound. His hand shifts, fingers gesturing, and the frost troll's head explodes into a shower of darkness as something shiny and most assuredly metallic plows right through the construct. The goat bleats in annoyance, not in fear, and the other one releases a too-human scream.

As Mjolnir hurtles into the intersection, right into the back of another monster, it moves on a collision course with the Heir to Thunder, one that assuredly would lead to her meeting the same fate as the shadow troll!

"What are these things?!" Thor questions loudly, delivering an uppercut right into the jaw of the lizardman, sending it flipping away backwards with all the majesty of a flying pig.

The hammer slows, floating right before Atli's eyes, an enticing replacement to the errant axe. And then it retreats, slamming into the outstretched hand of the Worthy. Thunder issues.

Lifting the weapon high, the lightning comes so easily to Thor, a crackling bolt slamming down into the chunk of Uru. The duster flares back as the sheer force ripples out, and with a muscly thrust, the energy is released into the backflipping lizard figure.

"You, girl!" Thor's sizzling blues settle onto Atli's slight form. "What battle is this that you have brought to this land, and why do I not know of you from the Realm Eternal?" The accent, the garb, they're all dead giveaways.


Shadow spills like so much blood, guts, and gore, splashing loudly to the ground. And of course, over the goats. At least the mead is safe for now. It is not until the hammer careens across the battlefield and very nearly into Atli that she turns her attention.

Those eyes of hers - eyes very much like Thor's - go wide, and her expression is perhaps not the one most might experience when faced with such a near miss. Instead her ire rises, teeth gritting just as he calls the lightning and sends it into the lizard creature.

Which promptly, terribly, explodes.

With a great heave, the Girl of Thunder slams the shadow-mouthling to the ground, just around the time the squid-man seems to finally have pulled the spear from it's body, finally setting it free. If a shadow creature could be jubilant, this one would be. For just a moment, because a bolt of lightning finds the spear it now held so triumphantly, utterly obliterating it before the lightning arcs to Atli and materializes Jarnbjorn, Reforged to her hand.

It's with a great cry of victory that she slams the blade of the spear into the recovered mouthling, putting it out of it's misery.

"You do not know me because you are a Thor, and all Thors are fools. My grandfather told me so! And this is the only battle that yet matters, Odinso-"

Her voice dies away as the shadows begin to simply melt, each and every creature giving a great cry and slopping to the ground like so much spilled mead. Welp. Maybe it /isn't/ the only battle that yet matters after all.

Atli, for her part, looks crestfallen, her eyes wild and her posture still prepared for battle.


With the lightning called and unleashed, Thor twists the weapon in his grip so effortlessly, hand sliding down to the leather throng at the base of the hilt. He begins spinning it with a fury, clearly intent on unleashing the weapon once more - only matters capitulate most abruptly, goo everywhere!

The weapon of a dying star continues to spin for several moments more as the wielder turns his gaze this way and that, seeking out the threat, but apparently not finding it. Mjolnir slows, dizzy, and dangles at the hand of the Odinson.

"Whoever told you that" Thor begins, still looking for danger as he takes a few cautious steps in the direction of the spear-wielding woman. "must be wise indeed," he finishes. The thrill of battle does much to improve one's mood after running into Peter Quill, and his expression twists into an affable grin.

"So tell me who what these creatures are, and who you are. I do not fancy being kept at a disadvantage."


There's a sudden turn, a flourish of the spear, it's blade singing in a most familiar way. The threat? A car alarm going off in the distance. There's a huff of a sound from her, then a sneer. Finally the spear seems to shrink, it's haft becoming little more than a sword's grip, and indeed it now appears to be a short sword of sorts. With a grunt she sheaths it at her back, and then she shouts skyward.

"GATEKEEPER DECIMUX! IF YOU YET LIVE, RECALL ME TO THE REALM ETERNAL, SO I MIGHT…" The wind is stolen from her as Thor begins to talk. As it begins to settle in. A cold reality, but one warmer than the one she came from, there, at the end of the very universe.

The way she looks at him then is with an incredulous sort of fury, but it is not his fault. No, she looks at him like she might look at a book, filled with irksome words and far to much exposition about the nature of things /no one/ cares about. And that is exactly what it would take to explain all this.

This, that seems to distant now, memories she tries to cling to as she leans back against the hood of a nearby car, her Asgardian density denting in the side panel with the sudden shove of her hips. Her hands rake down over her face as if to pull the very skin from it, and she release a long groan.

"I am Atli Wodendottir, Heir to Thunder. These creatures are the toys of the Butcher of Worlds, a threat that…" Her thought trails and she looks all around, as the people who stare from half a block away, and the emergency vehicles that are already rushing towards them.

"Tell me of this realm. Is it some outcropping past the meaning of time? Have you and the other Thors answered Grandfather's call? I did not know his plan, but knowing the him, he certainly had at least half a plan. Or a quarter. And asking other Thors for help would be one of them." To this, she almost looks hopeful, despite the crushing sense of loss that rushes into her heart. Her sisters. Her grandfather. Her world.

Where was she?

More importantly, where was the mead?

"Nevermind all of that. Mead first. Enough to prove this place is not a dream when I wake to it again."


"I have heard of this," Thor says, his voice softer, almost gentle. The grin has changed to one that would fit in better at a funeral, and the thrill of battle begins its way out of his body. "People from other times, other places, finding themselves here in this realm. I cannot say with any certainty that it did not happen to me also, for this has always been the place that I have known."

"If you wish mead, then you shall have it, and I shall have answers."

A sharp whistle leaves his lips, and the goats don't move. Thor twists, glaring at the two creatures, until they finally step forth with the clack of hooves upon asphalt. They amble up, and the Thunderer removes one of the barrels from their backs. It's Asgard's Finest, the label a Goddess holding two golden apples. "You may help yourself here, but we may want to move elsewhere. The guards of this realm are prone to asking many questions that I have little desire to answer."

With that, he mounts one of the goats, gesturing for Atli to take the other. They'll be away, the goats flying through the air, sending the golden locks of the God of Thunder into a wonderful cascade, somehow never getting into his face because that would not be very godlike.

In short order they'll set down atop one of the nearby buildings. Dismounting, Thor fishes out a wooden mug from the saddlebags of Toothgrinder, and dispenses warm mead into it. This he'll offer to Atli, unless the girl has opted to simply drink straight from the barrel.

"I know no Woden, and your title is remarkably similar to my own. Perhaps you could start from the beginning. Know that I do not know of this Butcher of Worlds, though I have met many a butcher in my journeys amongst the Nine Realms."



Not only does Atli seem familiar with the goats, they are as at ease with her as.. well. Alright, they're goats. They probably aren't terribly warm with anyone. But Atli seems apt enough to ride them that she can one-arm a barrel and drink it, a great mess of mead littering the streets behind her.

Finally, when they land, she dismounts with a slump, finding someone's rooftop tanning chair to crash into and nearly bottom out. She looks a right mess of mead and despair, the kind of despair a much younger Thor probably felt every time Mjolnir refused his tender caress.

"Of all the Thors in all the verse to get stuck with.. I suppose this could have been worse. I'd have gelded Thor the Younger by now and taken his axe for dual wielding, frightful fool that he is. At least you have mead, Avenger. If that is truly the Thor I speak to now."

Another tip of her barrel, and another cascade of mead like a waterfall. She probably drinks as much as she wastes, but today has been a rough day. She was supposed to die at the end of the universe, with her grandfather, and when the barrel comes down she lays her arms across it, leans forward to perch her chin, and withholds a bare snarl.

"The Butcher of Worlds is a giant-kin named Galactus. When last we met he was but a boil on the burnt face of Midgard, but Grandfather used the All-Black to show him who owned that blighted Bilgesnipe dung heap. Woe, was he fierce in black, bad-assed and deadly. Should have ended that /fool/ giant when he had the chance! Now he has the All-Black, and the end of the universe had come before I was sent to this Hel-ish place. Wherever it is. An Alfheim brothel-dimension, perhaps? Those elves get up to far to much now that they control the Tesseract."

Right, Woden. She sneers at the name, and she blows a raspberry to the air itself. "Woden is a fool, just like his father. Perhaps I am a fool, because I am his daughter. Do you know he died to his own hammer? Grandfather forbids us to speak of it, but Ellisiv and Frigg told me anyway. But let me unpuzzle this for you, Son of Odin. Long from now, from this place, you will be All-Father. You will be wise. It will take a /long/ time. Your son, Woden, will have died to his own hammer, tragic as that is, and your many wives will lay entombed for you to stare at in the morning, and perhaps cry like a coward. I do not know what you do in private. But what I do know is that you are my grandfather. What I do know, is that I… am probably doomed."

The grim look once more, and she upsends the barrel.



And so Thor listens. It's a long listen, but he's polite enough not to interrupt, although clearly he wants to, very, very much, as the tale goes on and on. He sips politely to start, and then begins to drink quite heavily.

As she spills the beans on who she is, and her fateful parentage, the God of Thunder nods several times, almost more to himself than to Atli, as he unburdens Toothgnasher of another barrel of mead. He lifts it up, pulling the cork, and begins to drink much more deeply than the slip of a girl who claims to be his granddaughter. Drinking more than his fill, he nurses the barrel, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "If I did not know that my brother were dead, I would think this one of his schemes," he remarks, eyes narrowing at his present company.

He's about to speak further, and then he changes his mind. The barrel goes up.

After his second fill, he shoves the cork back into the barrel to restrain himself from further indulgence, the God who would be King placing his burden onto the rooftop. "By Odin's beard, that is an impressive tale you have spun. Galactus, yes, I have met him. If all you say is true, then it would seem that the future is bleak indeed. You say you are doomed? I say the Fates would have you be here, no doubt to change the story. Your mission, girl."

Probably his as well, but Thor doesn't need to mention that. He sweeps an arm out to the buildings that surround, the sheer noise that elevates even to this meager height. "This is Midgard, and this is the New York City. I cannot gauge the time you have come back from, but this title you give me, Avenger, seems apt if this Realm is doomed. I would seek more information from you, yet I can hear already hear this little bird speaking to me of the ramifications of knowing too much, of the potential damage to the timeline. Will the future unravel? Can we even change it? Do we act on imperfect information?

"Bah, the thoughts of scholars, what bilge water! What am I going to do with you? I am not even a father yet, let alone a grandfather."

Thor's looking at Atli like she's a puzzle, and he doesn't have the answer. He leans against the oversized barrel, hand stroking his fierce scruff, voice lowering to an easily heard mutter. "And what will Peggy think? Or Jane? Sif?"


Clearly, Atli thinks the upending of Thor's barrel is a challenge. And so she rises to meet it, most literally. Certainly there are some physics involved that prevent her from matching him, yes? No! She is a Warrior of Asgard! Grandfather /said/ so! Finally the barrel comes down, and the belch comes out, along with a bit of spittle that hits one of the goats. She frowns, reaching out to wipe it's face clean.

"And you are Toothgnasher Prime, I sup-"

Thor speaks of his dead brother, and she slowly looks up at him, malice in here eyes. Malice that splits into terrible, overwhelmed laughter. "Your brother does everything /but/ die. He was there at the end! I suspect he had thrown his lot in with The Butcher, or perhaps he decided foiling the All-Father's plan for one last giggle was good enough. But know this, Thor the Avenger, your brother yet lives if this time ever connects to mine!"

She kicks the barrel off the roof, and thankfully it lands on another building, and not the street below. She has all the posture of a pouting child, at least until her grandfather mentions his many women.

"I did not realize Asgardians of this age took three wives at once. Just make sure you hire a Seer so that you plow my father into the right one, otherwise I might end up different, perhaps even interested in books and boring things."

Atli frowns deeply at this notion, and then eyes another barrel of mead. A slow exhale, and then she reaches up to rub at her face, much like Thor is doing right now. Maybe she too is wondering what he will do with her, for she has little notion of what a proper inn looks like in this terror of a place that is.. Midgard.

At least Grandfather was not lying about it's splendor. She only wonders: Where are the flying sharks?


Processing that varied information, Thor's expression turns ponderous at the thought that Loki could still be alive. "If he yet lives, which I am not so certain of in this timeline, reality, whatever you want to call this, then perhaps?" He trails off there, apparently not about to voice whatever thoughts he's having there.

He's snapped out of it as Atli points out the wives situation. He laughs, hand moving away from his beard. "I have nary a single wife, and I may even be without a lover at this time. Girl, you should mind your tongue with your elders," he notes, one eye half-lidding, the lines like something that Odin would say. Just add a big beard and let him gargle some rocks, and he's right there with the cosplay.

Still, what are they going to do with her? "Nay, I have no idea what I am to do with you. I know not your quest, and where you must begin. If you need to return to Asgard, I can arrange for it, but the Bifrost is currently? broken." He spreads his hands at that. Clearly, an apology, as it is his fault that it's out of commission.

"Take Toothgrinder. He can return you to Asgard, and you can have a drink along the way." It's a longer ride back than the Rainbow Bridge, certainly.


A hand sweeps through the air, as if to brush aside the first of Thor's words. She even makes a 'woosh' of a sound. Apparently the news that he has no wives and no lovers sounds like a less than real problem that can be solved with drink, adventure, and revels all around.

It is not until he mentions the Bifrost and indicates that it is broken that her brows lift, her gaze shifting to the goat that's been offered. One hand comes down to pat it's side, the often disagreeable creature the closest thing to a reminder of her own time that she has.

Other than the way Thor looks when he's channeling his future self, her gaze almost glassy as she stares through it, blinking only when there's a suggestion that she leave. Atli takes a long time to channel her words, sorting through the well of emotion she feels, oh so lost in this strange world and time.

"It was you who taught me to speak like this. Frigg, my oldest sister, learned more from Woden and the Last Warriors. Ellisiv, her books. But for me, it was always you, Grandfather."

She calls him that, and then looks up to meet his gaze - he is not yet a father, even. But what else could he be but her blood? "I know there is much of this realm in what you taught me. Your love for it was not something I easily understood. But I would not leave it so quickly, not until I know my purpose, or what foul plan your brother from my time was playing at. I will accept your offer of Toothgrinder, but to survey this land and learn well it's people. Then, perhaps when your own adventures allow, we can return to Asgard together. I would.. very much like to see it, with our people filling it to the brim."

Certainly his warning about timelines and what he should know resonates, but she lets bits slip. The Asgard of her time is - was - filled, but not with their people.

In the end she steps forward, her hand and forearm offered. "Thank you for not destroying my face with Mjolnir earlier."

Not much of a thank you, really, but it's what she's got.


Firmly and warmly does Thor embrace his apparent granddaughter, engaging her in the full grip of brotherhood. "I would suggest that you be quicker to shout 'I am your granddaughter, do not smash me,' in future." Quite wry, with a grin upon his features. It fades a moment later, and he does not let her go.

"Go forth and explore. See what this land has, but do not interfere if it can be avoided. That is our sole mandate here. This Realm has many wonders, and many pitfalls. When you have had your fill, Toothgrinder will return you to me, and we will see where next your quest shall take you."

His expression turns downright grim after that.

"If my brother - your granduncle? - is still out there, then perhaps you should not mention your lineage to anyone. Consider that as well."

Finally he lets her go. Thor will head over to Toothgnasher, tying the half-finished barrel back on. "The All-Father of this time will wish to see you before long, and we have much to consider of your tale. But for now, sweet grandchild, be at ease. You are safe. And be sure to try the coffee when you have a chance."

He'll watch her leave, before making his own exit. This day just gets weirder and weirder.

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