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Throne World

As he is pushed backwards, Gaul rolls to his feet and levels Mjolnir at the hands diving toward him, “I am the King of Asgard,” the hammer surges with electricity. “Gaul, son of Vili, god of Fate.” The lightning begins to pulsate and the crackling energy carries to his voice, “I am the Living Weave, Wyrd itself, and I. Am not. To be trifled with.”

He hurls Mjolnir at the Wyrd Engine, and it obliterates the hands in its path. Upon contact with the engine, a blinding flash of light and a deafening peal of thunder tear through the rings, heaving them apart. The hammer rockets toward Gaul’s outstretched hand, and as he catches it he spins and tosses it at Valkyrie as tattoos begin to spread across his torso.

The lines that form the bulk of the tattoo weave geometric patterns that seem to constantly shift and swirl under his skin in a kaleidoscopic, amorphous manner. Runes and formulae seem to swirl between the lines, impossible to follow in both movement and complexity.

Blackout

“Well, it’s not just a building. It’s a whole city,” the woman says as she pats the earth, having buried the core of the apple. “Only question is, where am I?” She brushes the soil from her hands and walks into the city.
Throne World

Gaul slowly sidesteps the glaive as it crashes to the floor, then launches himself at Valkyrie, a quick flurry of fists crashing on her head. He lands behind her in a crouch, and draws his hand axe and Mjolnir as he begins to circle his opponent, staying low to the ground.

“Butcher? Can you even hit me, princess?” Gaul asks with a mocking smile.

Helheim, Realm of the Dead

“And so it is done,” Hel breathes shakily as she collapses onto the bed of furs beside Baldur. “Your ex-wife shall be free,” she slowly traces a circle on his chest with a long, spindly finger.

Baldur turns to look at his new bride. This was not the death he had envisioned for himself by any means, yet it was the death he had. “I have but one final favor to ask of you, my wife.” The word almost chokes him.

“Fire away, beloved.” Hel replies, seeming to not have noticed his hesitation.

“I wish to forget about her, and her to forget me. Send her far away, that she may live out her days in blissful ignorance.”

“I happen to know just the place,” she smiles. A perfect little hideaway where she won’t possibly escape. Hel curls her finger under Baldur’s chin and pulls him close.

Blackout

A beautiful young woman with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes slowly comes to beneath the shade of a massive apple tree. She slowly gets to her bare feet and takes a few halting steps. She glances down at her threadbare dress, almost devoid of color, and a seax in a scabbard belted around her waist.

Where am I, and why am I here? she thinks, and gets only a growling stomach in response. Hunger. That much she knows. She instinctively reaches up toward the fruit above her, and the tree seems to bow slightly to her whim. As the apple is plucked, the boughs swing back to their rightful place in the sky.

The mysterious woman begins to walk toward the shape of a building in the distance, ponderously munching upon the apple. Perhaps someone there will know something.
Gaul, barely noticing Blaze’s shouting, finishes his incantation and suddenly he’s swapped places with Flame. Hopefully they can manage to take care of her until I get back he thinks to himself as he strides forward slowly.

“Wyrd Engines? Extra arms?” His lips curl upward menacingly as he feels his power roiling in his veins. “Surely you can do better than that.” He slowly and methodically removes his tunic and furs to reveal the rippling muscle beneath, stretches to his full height, and bellows a war cry that reverberates through the chamber. Both eyes gleam with starlight from deep black pools, the Eyes of Fate fully unleashed.

“Best for you to hit me with everything you’ve got, or this will be easier than a Hallingkast*.”

* en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halling_(danc….
Gaul looks between Raven, Shadow, and Blaze, and promptly sits down on a nearby pile of rubble. He folds his arms and thinks for a moment.

“Well, if she’s already transformed when we pull her out, that could potentially be an even bigger problem, yes?” He stands and brushes the dust from his bearskins. “So, we wait. I’ll keep an eye on her fight, and step in if necessary. Otherwise, let the Royal Highblood Guard do her duty.”

As he finishes speaking, his left eye begins to shift. The pupil eclipses the iris and small motes of starlight begin to gleam within.
As Valkyrie slumps to the ground, Gaul turns his attention to the skies.

“I suppose I should have known this wouldn’t be easy,” he sighs. “It never is with these things.”

As he speaks, his eyes become cloudy. Simultaneously, the space between each ship becomes charged with buzzing static. Gaul lifts his right hand and Mjolnir, the hammer of Thor, manifests within it. The comm units on every ship begin to transmit his voice, though full of popping interference.

“And thus *garbled static* sentenced to *more static* OBLIVION.”

The entire sky erupts as electricity engulfs the armada, frying the mechanical and biological with impunity. Gaul turns back to Valkyrie, and grins menacingly.

“Do you enjoy fireworks?”
With a cacophonous roar, Gaul leaps towards Valkyrie with every ounce of strength he can muster. A sonic boom erupts behind him, and as he approaches his destination, he weaves the fabric of reality to swap his momentum with that of Valkyrie, and sends her flying towards the castle while he comes to a dead stop. He looks down at Lexianna and Blaze.

"Take care of her, would you?" Gaul asks calmly, nodding towards the unconscious angel. "I've got this one."

A blinding flash, the crash of thunder, and Gaul is in front of Valkyrie again, this time on the opposite side of the castle. Dust and the smell of burning ozone fill the air. Electricity crackles in Gaul's voice as he speaks.

"I was really hoping you would accept my challenge. At least then, you could have died with honor, and your men could be spared." With a snap of his fingers, he creates null energy fields around every ship in the fleet. All of the systems on the ships shut down, and then the fields dissipate. They begin to fall from the sky.
A massive thunder strike explodes outward from beneath the rubble. Gaul strides from beneath it seemingly untouched, with sparks of electricity shooting from the hammer he wields in his hand. His voice booms above the battlefield from the storm cloud that has begun to form in the sky.

“Valkyrie! I hereby invoke the Rites of the Old Gods, and challenge you to single combat. The victor shall determine the fate of the losing army. If you find these terms acceptable, meet me here.”

As the last word leaves his lips, lightning arcs down to a spot around one hundred yards from the castle. Gaul calmly begins to walk in that direction.
Gaul, upon seeing Flame light up with excitement at the prospect, looks to Smough. “Ready when you are,” he says as he pulls the hammer from his belt. “I’ve been itching to try this out.”

He then turns to Raven. “They’ve used some ability to turn into smoke, if that’s what you mean by ‘bite down’. Should we be wary of something specific?”
Gaul calmly finishes his drink in one deep pull, and throws his cup mightily directly at Hand 6’s face, knocking the child out cold. He then reaches behind him and snags Hand 3 by the collar, and power slams them into the floor one-handed in an arc over his head. He turns to the Hands left standing.

“Give up now, and we’ll go easy on you. Or you can refuse, and piss me off. Choice is yours.”

Suddenly, light cages spring up around the Hands. “That takes care of that then.”
Gaul looks around at the food, then back to Smough. “Did you say you had something for us, Admiral? I’d surely like to see what it is.” He says as he raises his glass at Shadow’s toast, and begins to peruse his dietary options.
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