Granddaughter Needs A New Pair of Hammer

December 06, 2017:

Atli seeks out Mjolnir, and has a catch-up talk with her… granddaddy Thor?!

New York City

A rooftop.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Batman

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

"YAUS!!"

It is a shout that could ring through all eternity, one that instead just echoes off of buildings and meanders through the other sounds that fill up an entire city.

In reality, only a goat is there to witness Atli's finest moment.

Finally. She will have a hammer!

"Fate has yet again intervened, Toothbender. The reforged spear Grandfather gave me was grand, but clearly his hammer has finally found it's way here, meant to give me a sign. A symbol. To tell me where I must go to right the wrongs of the future! It wil-NO! TOOTHBENDER! IT IS NOT FOR EATING, IT IS A HAMMER!"

Perhaps there was not much thought given when Atli buried Toothgnasher's tail bone after finding that she had forgotten to one morning after fire demons had all but obliterated her loaner goat. Never would she have imagined it would spawn another, or that this goat would be.. well. Off.

Wild eyed, and without a harness, it considered all the world a dinner plate. Gnawing and gnashing its way to earning it's name, it very nearly becomes Toothcracker along the way, until Atli hauls the goat off of the hammer by the scruff and gives him a firm swat. No matter, Toothbender a nice piece of cracked brick to chew on instead, leaving Atli's moment of triumph somewhat drowned as she's faced with a completely slobbered hammer.

Really, there's a pool of the stuff.

There's a twitch of one eye before the Daughter of Asgard strides forward to triumphantly claim her prize, wrapping fingers around the haft of the hammer to pull like she'd never pulled before!

Sounds of Asgardian/Goat diplomacy, and other various shouting and grunting should easily rouse even the most dreary fools from…whatever it is they are doing!

—-

Despite the saliva that drips so thickly from the throng at the base of the haft, Mjolnir sits where it has for days now, partially submerged into the top of the fancy apartment building on the Upper East Side. Pieces of rooftop debris are littered about, and there's a sizeable crater right next to where the mighty hammer lies.

A man-sized crater. A large man.

The saliva splashes to the ground as Atli seizes her chance. She leaves, and the skies above swirl, night giving way to the rumble of clouds. They prove plentiful, and they prove ominous as she starts to feel, just maybe, that the hammer is shifting under her hands—!

Thunder BOOMS, and lightning CRACKLES, a massive bolt of it slamming down from the heavens to strike the rooftop of the building just across the way.

The stench of ozone fills the air.

And then a shadow looms, right behind Atli, a silhouette made of darkness with a cape drawn up tight against the face, the mouth.

Is this him? Is this the Batman?!

The loudest belch this side of Hel rips through the obscuring cape, and it falls, revealing unkempt beard, the stench of strong mead and incredibly sour breath joining the plenty of ozone already present.

Another lightning strike, illuminating the broad chest of Thor, apparently clad in his leathers. His blue eyes sizzle with electricity, his gaze driven down onto the slender form of his granddaughter.

"You would think to claim Mjolnir? Did it even budge? It took me decades to even shift the dust that had gathered upon the Uru."

The words are delivered somewhere between mirth and… drunken mirth. He gestures for Atli to try again.

Person-shaped crater? Pshhhh. Surely this was here so that she might dig her feet in and truly put her back into hoisting this most magnificent prize, meant for none other than Atli, Girl of Thunder! Teeth gnash, but not goat teeth, instead pearly whites show Asgardian strain as she pulls and pulls, and something does shift. But it's just the roof under her feet, which threatens to turn a person-crater into a person-portal to the floors below.

Clouds bring deep shadows to the world around her.

A thunderous sound splits the air.

A scent most foul fills her nostrils.

"TOOTHBENDER! FOUL BEAST! DO NOT BREAK WIND DURING MY MOMENT O-"

The second strike brings her whirling about, struck momentarily by legend made truth in her mind. For Atli Wodendottir, all she had growing up were Grandfather's stories. Long before her sister prattled on about other worlds that did not matter, her Grandfather told her of this world called Midgard. Steeped in glorious battle and legend untold, this was the Thor she knew in her mind's eye. This was a man worth looking after in his old age.

King Thor was her hero.

This Thor… not so much. She still isn't certain if this is the one she threatened to geld so long ago or not. Time shifting is a mind numbing thing, for sure, but as his fierce pose is shattered by his drunken slur she scowls in only the way an Asgardian can.

"Hel's Bells! I hope it doesn't take that long to shift the dust off your fool brain! Why is Mjolnir simply laying here for curious goats to gnaw on, instead of in your hand, preparing to best your foes! I had thought it was Grandfather's..hammer!!"

Yes, she's still trying, kindof half crouching down to pull at it even as she chastises Thor the Avenger for daring to leave a hammer where she might get her hopes up.

Those bulky forearms cross over an equally bulky chest as Thor the Avenger regards the person who claims to be his granddaughter. He can sort of see it, if he squints just right. The power emanating from his eyes fades as he is suitably chastised — and the slightest of smirks paints his lips instead.

"Yes, that is my hammer, as long as I remain Worthy," he says the obvious, watching as she still strains over the magical weapon.

This Thor, while he may appear to be drunk, lets her have a go at it for a while before he extends his right hand, palm open. It may be unfortunate timing with one of Atli's attempts - the hammer shifts, moving, pivoting to point the haft towards the Son of Asgard. The rooftop grinds, a faint metallic hum issuing from the weapon as it threatens to simply surge to the Thunderer.

It doesn't leave the rooftop. It nearly does, but it does not clear it. If Ant-Man were here, perhaps he could confirm that, wow yes, that did move a nanometer or two, glib joke here!

A scowl takes the smirk, brow furrowing in a rush of emotion. Frustration, anger, swallowing anger, chewing anger, putting anger aside.

"Worthy indeed," he mutters, lifting his voice afterwards. "So where have your adventures taken you, and what is that horrific smell?" The hand that was waiting for the hammer jerks to one side, thumb indicating the nearby goat. The cape hanging poorly from his shoulders ripples in the night breeze, a tempting meal.

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