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UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER
ISSUE #2: Heart of Ice

Winchester Point Alaska

Thor didn't know how long he knelt in the snow beside Mjölnir. Memory was a prison unto itself in this dark crevice under the earth: Thor could play at doing things different over and over again until the end of time. That is, he once could have- now that he was stripped of his hammer, his godhood was more frail than ever before. Winter's bite was now a threat he could not ignore. So he summoned what strength remained to him and rose, setting forth into the lonely dark.

The land opposed him at every step. Snow clung to his boots like the clawing hands of the damned in Hel. It was hard to navigate here by night, even with the Bifrost lingering. It was somehow too blinding to behold directly yet too dim to light his way. All Thor could do was pick a random direction and pray fate was kind to him. Thick forest blocked his way, forcing him to bend beneath canopies or tear them up with his hands. Both were obnoxious novelties to the God of Thunder- he couldn't remember the last time he walked somewhere. Thor was the living storm. The sky was his domain.

"I deserve this," he reminded himself, "if not worse."

'God of Thunder...'

The voice scratched at the edge of his consciousness. Thor spun around with the force of a whirlwind, the snow around him flung into the sky in a twelve foot radius. Shadows leapt across the trees; the suggestion of wolves racing across the moonlight. No, not quite wolves. The shadows walked upright, as if they were men. Men formed of beast flesh. His fingers brushed against his side where Mjölnir once hung. When they found nothing but air they clenched into a fist. Fine. He may be without his weapon but it was not required to fell these monsters. He would tear them apart with his hands if necessary.

"Who dares challenge the Prince of Asgard?" Thor stepped forward, holding his head high against an unseen foe.

'Prince of Conquest. God of Death. Drenched in so much blood it could extinguish the sun. You truly are your father's son.'

Thunder roiled. Thor took another step forward, casting his gaze all around him to the empty woods. "Who are you? Who dares invoke my father's name with such lies?"

"S-stay away f-from me!" Someone screamed in the distance, and a loud bang followed. Thor tore his attention away from the bestial shadows to look. Perhaps a hundred paces away from him he could see the dull glow of what must've been lantern light. Its cone of light was pointed southward away from him, low to the ground and unmoving.

"Who goes there?" Thor shouted.

He waited several seconds for a reply. Only the howl of the wind called back.

Glancing back around at the trees, Thor found the shadows of the Man-Beasts gone. Even as he made his way to the light, he was careful not to keep his back turned to the dark for too long. Something was lurking in these woods- something all too malevolent for his liking.

The lantern had fallen in a stream bed frozen over by the storm. Thick brush gathered on other side of the stream, though the forest was not so dense with trees here. Thor stepped through the brambles, bending low to take up the device. It was like nothing he had ever seen: small, able to fit easily into the palm of his hand, and behind the glass face was no obvious flame to cast this light. He could sense the pulses of electricity contained within. His brother, Balder, once showed him a similar device he had found on a place called 'earth' in the realm of Midgard.

Searching the area with the the strange lantern, Thor spotted an iron club a dozen paces up stream. It was a metal rod stuck fast to a carved wooden handle. There were mechanical switches of unknown purpose near the grip. Mortal weaponry, he assumed. Casting the light further, he found a break in the ice. The brushes up the nearby bank were crushed and there were marks in the snow. Heavy, dragging prints, like something was carried this way. Thor bent low. He cast his light to the break in the frozen stream. Blood stuck fast to the jagged edge of the ice, yet he saw no body in the water. Perhaps the mortal had dragged himself out?

"Hear me: if you yet live and seek respite from your woes, reveal yourself. I will guide you from these woods. You have my solemn word."

'You won't leave these woods alive, butcher.'

Thor bristled. "Who dares-"

A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, seizing his voice in his throat. Thor looked down to see four razor-tipped claws sticking through his breastplate, coated with golden god-blood. The attacker pushed Thor down into the stream with a terrible strength. Ice shattered, and freezing cold water rushed down Thor's open gullet, choking him.

The god writhed, unable to find anything solid to push himself up against. His attacker wrapped its other clawed hand around his head to keep it beneath the surface. It must've had the strength of a frost giant to render Thor so helpless against it.

'Let us see if gods can drown, shall we?'

Darkness crept at the edge of Thor's vision. He kicked against the ice above him, trying to find purchase against it, only for it to shatter at the slightest pressure. His hands groped for the bottom of the stream bed, finding nothing. It was disorientating. Hardly could he tell up from down in the nearly pitch-black water. Indignation raged like a tempest in his breast. This was the peak of his humiliation. Cast from Asgard, stripped of his birthright and weapon, and now he faced death at the hands of some Midgardian beast. It was going to drown him. He who had soared in the space between stars. He who had commanded stormy seas for fifty thousand years. He was to be bested by a brook.

'Is this what mine actions have wrought? Am I owed such indignity, father?' He thought, consciousness slipping away.

A sudden, distorted bang sounded from above him. The weight on his back lessened as the claws vacated his shoulder. Another bang, followed by an inhuman roar.

In the seconds before his consciousness fled down river, Thor threw his fingers upward. They found purchase against a stone on the bank. With all the power remaining in his muscles, he dragged himself up and up and up until his head finally breached the surface. Thor took a desperate breath.

"You are one ugly sonofabitch, aren't you?!" Keith Kincaid shouted. He was scrambling backward up the stream bank, tearing through the brush as he tried to force another shell into the shotgun.

The man-beast loomed. It must've been over ten feet tall, all wiry muscle and bone. Dark red fur hung to its frame like a too-big coat. Its claws were huge, dangerous looking things, hanging from thin arms that were so long they dragged against the ground. Bony protrusions of half-formed hands littered its sides. The worst part was its face, though: its face was Wilford's, split straight down the middle in a gory heap so a wolfish maw could peak out. Even covered in blood and transformed into this horrible thing, Kieth recognized the old man's pale blue, paranoid eyes.

"Jesus. Wilford? Is that- don't-"

The thing that used to be Wilford leapt on Keith before he could fire again. Keith screamed. It pinned him down under its weight, one claw wrapped around the arm Keith was using to hold the gun, and the other outstretched behind it, ready to strike.

A fist seized the upraised claw. Keith could see the drowning man better in this light: he was tall, broad, and built like Arnie in Conan the Barbarian. His long, blond hair was matted against his scalp, and there was a fury in his eyes unlike anything Keith had seen before.

"Nay." Thor snarled. "Not him. Me. I am not done with you yet."

Twisting his body around, Thor lifted the Man-Beast off its feet and flung it into a tree fifty feet away. The monster flew so fast it was a blur before Keith's eyes, and when its body impacted the trunk exploded into splinters. The force of the blow sent out a shockwave that rocked the forest.

'You are not worthy of your strength. You never were. Murderer. Kinslayer.'

"I will not be mocked by some abomination!" Thor bellowed. He jumped, taking to the sky for dozens of feet before coming back down on the Man-Beast, feet first. Snow and dirt and splinters exploded in every direction.

'You were cast aside for a reason.'

Thor slammed a fist down against the monster's maw. "You-"

'He only ever loved you.'

He punched it again. Teeth shattered like glass. "Do not-"

'And you killed him for it.'

And again, blood splattering against the snow. "Know me!"

Again, again, and again once more. Every blow struck sent another wave of debris flying. Every tree for a few dozen meters lay on its side. Blood caked Thor's fists and chest. Beneath him was an unmoving pile of meat, lying in a crater that hadn't been there moments ago. Thor heaved every breath, falling to his knees atop the corpse. He loosed a long, pained howl that echoed across the valley.
Iris did not have to do Barry like that lmao
UOU Presents: THOR, GOD OF THUNDER
ISSUE #1: Heart of Ice

Winchester Point Alaska

Keith Kincaid tore across the Alaskan wilderness as fast as his truck would allow. Even with the high beams on, Keith struggled to see through the storm blanketing the night. Snow spun out behind the tires as he took a hard turn on an unpaved trail. Even with the ice screws, Keith felt his tires sliding across the ice. Branches of evergreen trees splintered against his tailgate; just a foot more and it would've slammed into the trunk instead. With a strange of curses on his lips, Keith pushed the gear stick up a gear and kept going.

"You tryin' 'ta get us killed, boy?" Wilford grumbled from the passenger seat.

Cresting the top of the hill, they beheld the glory of the heavens: every color of the rainbow dancing in brilliant harmony. Even with the storm clouds overhead, the lights still managed to gleam brighter than he could ever remember. Something was wrong with the northern lights. Kincaid's team had been watching the magnetosphere above Alaska for two years now, and he'd never seen anything like this. It started thirty minutes ago, when all their equipment went absolutely nuts. There shouldn't have been an event tonight; certainly not one so potent. The data coming through was impossible. The team was talking about how their understanding of the Auroras was totally changed- moments before all their equipment died. Their prevailing theory was that a storm over the transmitter array had knocked out their connection.

The array facility came into view through the treeline five minutes later. Over two hundred antennae towered above him, like the spindly fingers of giants reaching into the heavens. Keith pulled in front of the transmission station- little more than a prefab trailer they'd brought in on the back of a semi. He grabbed his radio off the dash. With how bad the conditions were he half expected the channel to be dead. "Keith to base, do you read me? Over."

"Copy, this is Russell. You at the array yet? Over."

The connection was surprisingly strong. Hell, there wasn't any interference at all. "Yeah. About to head inside and see if we can't fix this thing. Over."

"Keep us informed. Out."

Keith made sure to button up his coat before he opened the door. The cold assaulted his senses. Ice in the air was like a thousand tiny daggers slashing against his face. On the other side of the truck, Wilford grabbed a shotgun before clambering out. Keith rolled his eyes. The mustached old man never went anywhere unless he was strapped, even if it was a fifteen foot walk to the building.

"Y'know, I brought the bear spray," Keith yelled over the roaring wind, holding up a black canister for the other man to see.

"Never seen no bear die when you put pepper in her eyes. Only makes 'em angry." Wilford responded as he scanned his surroundings over the barrel of his gun.

Keith made sure to push the thing down as he walked past, climbing the ice-slicked stairs up to the door. He pulled at it to no avail. Was it locked? No. There was ice built up all along the frame."Damn it. Really? Already?" He turned halfway to look at Wilford, who was now several paces away from the building and staring out into the dark.

"Hey, Willy, can you go get the ice pick outta the truck?"

The other man didn't respond. He just kept creeping back and forth over the same dozen paces. Keith's face scrunched up in frustration. It wasn't unusual for Wilford to be a little paranoid, but this was ridiculous. Keith trudged back down the stairs and through a foot and a half of snow to the truck. The crew had pulled the back seats out of the cabin and replaced them with a storage container for all their equipment. Keith started to open the door when he heard Wilford say something behind him.

'Can you hear the angel choir A million voices cry out and the sky bleeds at His coming Rejoice for the end is nigh all the world will quake before the conqueror's thunder The world is a song placed off-tune by an uncaring mother

"What was that?" Keith asked, turning. Wilford was gone.

"Wilford?"

The addled old man must've finally lost it. Went wandering off into the woods in search of his mythical man-eating bear. This wouldn't be so much of a problem if the scientific discovery of the century wasn't playing out just above them. Keith pulled open the toolbox and rummaged around until he found the ice pick. He grabbed a handful of other tools while he was here- might need them to fix the transmitter.

Halfway to the door, Keith stopped. "Damn it, Willy." He sighed, knowing full well that leaving somewhere out here alone was a death sentence. Keith grabbed his radio and held it close to his face, cupping his other hand around it to block out the wind. "Keith to base, we have a problem. Wilford's disappeared. Didn't say where he was going and I only looked away for a minute, but he's gone. Uh, over."

'Your friend is dead and you killed him your friend is dead and you're next do you know the way to Baker street? I'm lost and need to go home please don't leave me here alone We know now that in the early years of the twentieth century this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's Today is march 26, 1943 can you hear me? if you can please be patient i understand that you might do not be afraid This is KDKA of the Westinghouse electric and manufacturing company in East Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Don't bother running its everywhere and nowhere all at once Don't be afraid its just a shadow'

"Say again, base? You're breaking up. I can barely hear you, over."

'Good evening my fellow citizens You need to respond this government has promised has maintained the closest surveillance Please answer of the Soviet military buildup You need to answer please answer We meet in an hour of change and challenge in a decade of hope and fear in an age of both knowledge and ignorance I am speaking to you from mount Carmel center In the first chapter of revelation it says blessed is the man- blessed is he that readeth today and hear the words of this prophecy and keep the things that are written therein Do you know the sound a man makes when he dies Help me Its like poetry without words He's coming for it A last rite written in panic and fear, pure as snow'

Keith turned the radio off with fumbling fingers. "Broken. Stupid thing." Must be radio interference from the auroral event. It was plausible. Didn't matter. He needed to find Wilford and get out of this fucking storm already. Screw the lights. He just wanted to be inside again.

It wasn't hard to find Wilford's tracks: he'd left a ton of them all in the same place shuffling back and forth like he was. He must've kept dragging his feet as he left, too, because the path leading through the field of antennae barely looked like foot prints- more like he'd dragged a sled or something similar behind him. Keith knew he didn't have anything like that with him, though...

He lit up a flashlight and started after him. "Wilford! Can you hear me?!"

---


For the first time in fifty thousand years, Thor was cold. A bitter wind was howling in from the north. The snow was deep enough to swallow his boot when he took a step forward. Thor cast his eyes around the glade. The overcast sky blotched out the spare moonlight. Dark trees loomed as shadows all around him. Far away, mountaintops peeked through the falling snow. This place was unfamiliar to him. He had to imagine it was not so frozen as the icy cliffs of Jötunheim. Yet when he wandered in those hoary winters never did he shake with chill. Never did these strange little bumps cover his skin as they did now.

Thor clutched his crimson cloak tight around his bare arms, wishing he had begged furs from Odin before his banishment to this awful place. He trudged through the snow across the clearing, aimlessly.

"Has my father cast me so far that even you cannot see me, Heimdall?" He wondered aloud. His usually booming voice was hollow as the caves of Nidavellir. "Is this the domain of mine most accursed niece?"

Surely this was not Helheim, for he was not yet dead. He could still still the heat of his breath; still he felt the beating of his heart, quick and erratic. Nay, this was not Hel, nor anywhere on Niffleheim- for the great dragon Nidhogg would surely be here to devour him if it was. The skalds sing warnings of Nidhogg to all with aspirations of murder or betrayal in their hearts: the serpent will pursue them to the end of the realms to feast upon their corpses. A fitting punishment, Thor once believed, for who would are raise a hand against their own kin?

"Loki..." Thor choked on the name. The sting of the bitter wind grew too much, and he snapped his eyes shut. "Why did you lie to me?"

What sort of fool was he to strike down his own brother? Perhaps there was little love lost between them. Loki had always spoken out of both sides of his mouth. Every day he had some new mischief to make, and rarely was it harmless. Many gods were relieved he was finally dealt with, Thor was sure. That mattered not. Loki was still the boy he'd chased through the woods on the back of a stag. Thor remembered fondly the day he disguised himself as Freya and wed the giant Thrymr to steal back Mjölnir. Balder, Sif, the Warriors Three- they all thought the scheme ridiculous. It was only Loki who would accompany him. His brother even disguised himself as a bridesmaid.

A mournful smile crept up Thor's face even as tears streamed down his cheeks. Somewhere far above him there was a crack of thunder.

Lightning struck the ground before Thor, throwing him back off his feet and into the snow. Shock seized his chest as he opened his eyes and saw a crater where the bolt had landed. Within it sat Hammer of Gods, sparking, alive. Thor clambered down the side of the crater as fast as his unsteady legs would allow. He thought Mjölnir lost to him! Odin had declared him unworthy of her moments before thrusting him off the rainbow bridge. Perhaps his father had seen reason. Perhaps he understood that the killing blow was never meant to be such. Thor wrapped his hand around the familiar hilt and lifted.

Mjölnir did not budge.

The battle must've sapped more of his strength than Thor realized. He grasped lower down the shaft with his other hand, twisted his back foot into the dirt and lifted with all his might. The ground beneath him began to crack. Thunder roared over head as lightning lit up the sky. Still it would not move.

"Damn you," Thor snarled, and he slammed a fist into the snow. The stone beneath shattered, and Thor and Mjölnir alike went tumbling down into the dark embrace of the earth. They fell a great distance into a cavern far below. Dirt, snow and rock tumbled over head, burying them in the dark.

With a strength only a god could know, Thor tore himself free. He began digging in a panic through the rubble, blindly grasping for the weapon that had rejected him. It was all he had left of home. Even if it did not want him, he could not abandon it so easily.

Thor couldn't say how long he searched. The alien embrace of fatigue clung to his body like an unwanted cloak. He was moments from collapsing into despair before he spotted the faintest glow among the snow. Thor plied his way to it, and the glow revealed itself to be words etched upon the face of Mjölnir: Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall the power of...THOR.
First post locked and loaded



oh, Hillan's in this?

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
T H O R


"I have danced on distant stars. With a host of a thousand at my back, I have conquered realms. Countless foes lie dead at mine feet. Gods tremble at my coming. You are merely mortal, villain. Beneath my notice."
T H O R O D I N S O N G O D O F T H U N D E R , P R I N C E O F A S G A R D
O R I G I N S:


History records that Bor, second Allfather of the Æsir and King of Asgard, was murdered by a Jötunn sorcerer. This is a half truth. In reality, Loki Laufeyson bore a hole through time and transformed his adoptive grandfather into a living snowstorm. Odin Borson led an army of Asgardians into Jötunheim, land of the giants, to rescue his father. Yet when he found Bor begging to be freed, Odin was taken by a lust for power and cast Bor away. Bor placed a curse upon his son that he, too, would have his throne usurped by his children. Enraged, Odin tore Jötunheim apart, killing its king, Laufey, and taking the babe Loki as hostage to dissuade the remaining jötnar from seeking vengeance. He raised Loki as his son, shrouding the boy's true origin from his family out of paranoia.

Odin reigned over Asgard and the Nine Realms for countless eons. He sired many sons with his wife, Freya, the Vanir witch he had wed to end the war between their peoples. By other dalliances did he father children as well, including one with Mother Gaea of Midgard, which produced Thor, the God of Thunder. The boy proved a prodigious warrior. Many believed he so was fearsome he may even surpass his father's might some day. Odin commissioned the dwarves of Nidavellir to forge the legendary hammer Mjölnir for his son. With it, Thor adventured across the realms: he battled demons in Muspelheim, Malekith's dark elves in Svartalfheim, and even ventured to Midgard to hunt great wyrms and leviathans. In time the skalds sung more of Thor's deeds than those of even Odin himself.

The realms shook with grief the day Thor murdered Loki. The God of Thunder claimed that he had discovered Loki's true ancestry as a son of the giant king Laufey and confronted his brother for this deception. The accusation angered Loki enough that he struck Thor, and the two began a battle that leveled half the realm. By the time their companions could subdue them it was too late: Loki had suffered a mortal wound, perishing soon after. For the crime of kinslaying, Odin banished Thor to Midgard until he was once again worthy to wield Mjölnir.

S A M P L E P O S T:

For the first time in fifty thousand years, Thor was cold. A bitter wind was howling in from the north. The snow was deep enough to swallow his boot when he took a step forward. Thor cast his eyes around the glade. The overcast sky blotched out the spare moonlight. Dark trees loomed as shadows all around him. Far away, mountaintops peeked through the falling snow. This place was unfamiliar to him. He had to imagine it was not so frozen as the icy cliffs of Jötunheim. Yet when he wandered in those hoary winters never did he shake with chill. Never did these strange little bumps cover his skin as they did now.

Thor clutched his crimson cloak tight around his bare arms, wishing he had begged furs from Odin before his banishment to this awful place. He trudged through the snow across the clearing, aimlessly.

"Has my father cast me so far that even you cannot see me, Heimdall?" He wondered aloud. His usually booming voice was hollow as the caves of Nidavellir. "Is this the domain of mine most accursed niece?"

Surely this was not Helheim, for he was not yet dead. He could still still the heat of his breath; still he felt the beating of his heart, quick and erratic. Nay, this was not Hel, nor anywhere on Niffleheim- for the great dragon Nidhogg would surely be here to devour him if it was. The skalds sing warnings of Nidhogg to all with aspirations of murder or betrayal in their hearts: the serpent will pursue them to the end of the realms to feast upon their corpses. A fitting punishment, Thor once believed, for who would are raise a hand against their own kin?

"Loki..." Thor choked on the name. The sting of the bitter wind grew too much, and he snapped his eyes shut. "Why did you lie to me?"

What sort of fool was he to strike down his own brother? Perhaps there was little love lost between them. Loki had always spoken out of both sides of his mouth. Every day he had some new mischief to make, and rarely was it harmless. Many gods were relieved he was finally dealt with, Thor was sure. That mattered not. Loki was still the boy he'd chased through the woods on the back of a stag. Thor remembered fondly the day he disguised himself as Freya and wed the giant Thrymr to steal back Mjölnir. Balder, Sif, the Warriors Three- they all thought the scheme ridiculous. It was only Loki who would accompany him. His brother even disguised himself as a bridesmaid.

A mournful smile crept up Thor's face even as tears streamed down his cheeks. Somewhere far above him there was a crack of thunder.

Lightning struck the ground before Thor, throwing him back off his feet and into the snow. Shock seized his chest as he opened his eyes and saw a crater where the bolt had landed. Within it sat Hammer of Gods, sparking, alive. Thor clambered down the side of the crater as fast as his unsteady legs would allow. He thought Mjölnir lost to him! Odin had declared him unworthy of her moments before thrusting him off the rainbow bridge. Perhaps his father had seen reason. Perhaps he understood that the killing blow was never meant to be such. Thor wrapped his hand around the familiar hilt and lifted.

Mjölnir did not budge.

The battle must've sapped more of his strength than Thor realized. He grasped lower down the shaft with his other hand, twisted his back foot into the dirt and lifted with all his might. The ground beneath him began to crack. Thunder roared over head as lightning lit up the sky. Still it would not move.

"Damn you," Thor snarled, and he slammed a fist into the snow. The stone beneath shattered, and Thor and Mjölnir alike went tumbling down into the dark embrace of the earth. They fell a great distance into a cavern far below. Dirt, snow and rock tumbled over head, burying them in the dark.

With a strength only a god could know, Thor tore himself free. He began digging in a panic through the rubble, blindly grasping for the weapon that had rejected him. It was all he had left of home. Even if it did not want him, he could not abandon it so easily.

Thor couldn't say how long he searched. The alien embrace of fatigue clung to his body like an unwanted cloak. He was moments from collapsing into despair before he spotted the faintest glow among the snow. Thor plied his way to it, and the glow revealed itself to be words etched upon the face of Mjölnir: Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall the power of...THOR.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

@Supermaxx yeah you can only write Thor if you commit to writing atleast one Sex Scene per season.


Heavy lies the head that wears the hammer...
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