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Fantasy MIDGARD: Of Gods and Men [ALWAYS OPEN!]

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ULRICH GUNTHERSSON
talking to a giant woman about a beaver
The wild woman who had rammed her skull through the wall of the Temple poked at the body of Ulrich's beaver. She seemed to think that its death was undeserved. "Oh, believe you me, strange barbarian woman, this here is no mere beaver, oh no. This is one of a breed said to be descended from the great beaver Fraebjor himself! Nasty things, his kin are, with buckteeth the size of a man's fingers! Look!" He raised the beaver's head up to the woman's eye level, displaying the creature's long yellow foreteeth, blissfully unaware that showing off a beaver head was not generally acceptable social conduct.

 
Annie

The stranger reached high to Annie's eye line to place the beaver's head in her eye, displaying its yellowed teeth. "Disgusting. I find it cute. If you can tell me where to get one it would be much appreciated." She squatted down to be at eye level with the stranger. "Thank you, brave hunter for vanquishing this abomination. But I am sure my grandpa is not in need of beaver heads. My grandpa can hunt anything."

She stares into the carved eyes of the crude effigy of the Allfather standing at the front of the temple, the altar at his feet. "Is that not right, grandpa?"

"Grandpa?"

She knocks on the stone face with her knuckles, to no reply. "He is not feeling well. I will tell you that you killed this beast for him." She looks around. "When I see him."

She furrows her eyebrows. "Grandpa?"
 
.:[ Ragna Newolf ]:.
Temple of Odin
A low, but impressed whistle came from the doorway of the Temple, watching Ulrich preform the offering for Halsten. While she definitely knew how to skin an animal (and had so a few times herself), what amazed her was the awkwardness of the two men doing it in the Allfather's Temple. The woman crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway as she surveyed the chaos within the Temple. She couldn't help but let a stupid grin come across a face, contrasting to the tiredness of her expression and stature. It looked like she wasn't the first one there, and that the company within so far were of an interesting, and perhaps even similar ilk.

Ragna had heard the ruckus of the company from what felt like a mile away, and what might as well been. Midgardians would be Midgardians, and that meant loud and proud. She had no problem with this, and even liked to indulge in this sort of behavior! All in good fun, after all, and that usually didn't do any harm. They were all there for the same, respectable cause after all. And through that, not only were they competition, but also comrades in the adventure to beat all adventures. And in that, she found a base respect for all of them. Even if their reasons for risking their lives all differed.

Nevertheless this was still Odin, The Allfather's, Temple. It reached her mind for a moment that this type of behavior might not be best fitting or appropriate...but manners hadn't earned anybody Mjolnir yet, hadn't it? She didn't have the mind nor time to try it, either. And, according to her judgement, these people didn't either. Instead, it rested on her mind to pray, and to start her journey. She had been all over, but never on a journey. A small quest here. Rest there. Another small quest over there. So it goes. This time would be different. It would be the most important journey not just for herself, but for her family's sake.

"You boys done playing around with your animals, yet?" It was necessary for her to raise her voice; not just to make herself known, but to get through the loud ruckus of the others. Of course, she still had her stupidly smug smile, as if she could take on anything.
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Halsten, The Man Who Has Been Everywhere

While it was clear not everyone was on the best of terms, Halsten found entertainment in the ongoings of the Temple and chuckled. However, where most people would see noise and would look upon it condescendingly with a "My Worship Is Best" attitude, Halsten saw a clash of different walks of life slowly learning to reconcile their differences in a united form of worship in the Allfather. Every man worships Odin their own way; some write poems, some dedicate battles, and some decapitate animal carcasses in temples, but all are ultimately for the same purpose; paying respect to the Allfather.

Then, Halsten's ear perked up when he was referred to as 'boy'. Now, that's a new one; over his travels, he had been called a lot of names, but many of them were terms for the old, not the young.

"Now, now, miss, his offering to the Allfather may be unconventional, but that doesn't make it any less genuine. Besides, you aren't an elf, so odds are in favor of you being half my age; 'boy' is hardly an appropriate term."

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Þorgrímr
Kneeling before the Altar of Odin

"Allfather, Ancient One

Eye-plucked Wanderer

Teacher of Ru-"

Þorgrímr halted his hushed prayer as a small hand, a child's hand no doubt, gracefully left a flower in his own. It smelled of pollen, and, strangely, gave off feelings of peace, tranquility. He knelt, unmoving, his hand still lightly grasping his new found gift.

He spoke, although his face remained as it was, titled down to the temple floor.

"Thank you, child. Your gift of beauty is much appreciated. A fine offspring of nature, your flowers." He turned in the direction of the girl's heartbeat, along with her ever so faint breaths and exhales. "Tell me, where did you pick these?"

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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn looked over at the man in armor. He didn't seem to be able to see, but he looked at her. She looked down at the flowers in her basket, buried under a cloth along with her treats. "Just past the hills in the north, Sir. I strayed from the path to pick them, hoping I could end up as a story one day." Her voice was quiet and soft, but held a lot of joy and kindness towards the blind man.

"I gave you a daisy, Sir, in hopes to brighten your day. I cannot bear to see such sadness, anger, or misery in people. It is my duty, Sir." She bowed her head to the man, even though he probably couldn't see it.
 
Astrid, The Daughter of Mischief
Inside of the Temple

Once finishing her prayer and paying her tribute, the young Demi-God leaned against a post, teasing her brother as she usually did.

“Thorne the Swift, more like Thorne the Stiff,” she gestured to his small sack of coinage at the altar. “Stinginess does run in the family, I guess.”
She shrugged and chuckled. “It’s been awhile, brother. Still sleeping with anything that has a female reproductive system and breathes?” She chuckles again. She had never been one to like how flirtatious her brother was. But, then again, he was the son of Loki, and if it wasn’t obvious, daddy had gotten around quite a bit as well.

Astrid tried to shoo Ellie away as she walked over.

Eleonora, Ellie
Inside of the Temple

Eleonora approaches the two bickering siblings and smiled as she bowed to Thorne. “Is my dearest being rude?” She grabbed Astrid by her ear, still smiling and not breaking eye contact as the smaller girl whimpered. She let go once she was silent.

She walked gracefully to the altar and tossed her own sacrifice alongside of Thorne’s. “There, now he isn’t so stingy.” She smiles radiantly, not really noticing that what she just said might not have been respectful.
 
ULRICH GUNTHERSSON
demonstrating an offering apparently
Ulrich nodded hesitantly at the wild woman's thanks for the death of the beaver. With her now shouting at the effigy of Odin within the temple proper, he made to resume his demonstration of an offering to the man who had asked for assistance, easing his way into the Temple itself. "So once you have what you want to sacrifice, you jus' put it on the altar or in one of these bowls," he said as he unceremoniously dropped beaver head and pelt onto the altar near the front of the Temple, "bow your head, and say a prayer."

He turned around to address the man with, "That's all there is to it," but his words died when he discovered that the man's attention was now directed at a female newcomer, with whom he was conversing. Perhaps he had lost interest? Oh well.

 
Þorgrímr
Kneeling before the Altar of Odin

Þorgrímr allowed a smile to adorn his withered and scarred face, albeit only a brief loss of bearing; it shrank away as soon as it had appeared.

"Please, it's Þorgrímr, not sir. I'm no Earl."

"
And daisys to the north, you say? Perhaps in the future I may visit this place.", he paused, considering his words, his head titling ever so slightly downwards. "While I've only known you for mere moments, I feel that you are child of many stories to come."

Þorgrímr adjusted his positioning, his knees cracking and groaning from the previous strain. As he awaited the girl's reply, he realized that he had been tuning out the hardly controlled chaos within the same room. He sensed a whole host of characters, all vying for the Hammer, that much was obvious.

He would be lying if he said he had no interest himself, of course he did. He was merely undecided as to whether such an adventure was what he truly desired. Mjöllnir was no mere bounty, and bared nothing close to the appearance of easy quarry. Such an adventure would not come to end without a multitude of sacrifices for all involved, and Þorgrímr wasn't sure that he wanted any part of that affair.

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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn nodded when he told her his name. Þorgrímr. It was nice. "My name is Azlyn. My father's family was from Ireland and he decided my name." She explained why her name wasn't Norse.

Her face lit up with excitement when he mentioned stories. "Oh, yes, Mister Þorgrímr. I know many stories. They are beautiful and tragic and fun. I even know a few of the Allfather." She hadn't realized just how much she loved regaling her stories. The more she spoke them the more vivid they became. "Everybody says I was there because of how well I know the stories, but I wasn't. I'm only ten." She already had stories springing to life in her mind, waiting to leave her tongue in thrilling tales of old.
 
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.:[ Ragna Newolf ]:.
Temple of Odin

Ragna couldn't hold her laughter in. Not a mocking or sneering kind of laughter, but a hearty one full of life.
"Of course, of course! I would never disrespect a man's offering to the Allfather. Aesir forbid." She flashed the man an understanding look; she had truly meant no harm in it, only to poke fun at the unusual way they had gone about it. She had seen many things, but never seen a man offer in such a way. Ragna was many things; disrepectful to a good man was not one of them. Nor did she plan on becoming so. The Newolf was an honorable name, and she would not go disrespecting it!

Taking a few steps in, she was light. It was almost as if she was creeping in, but it instead looked as if she was under complete comfort. Making way towards the altar to say her dues, she made a passing comment to the man.

"...To that may be true, but aren't all men boys at heart?" It was a light-hearted joke, before kneeling next to the warrior and child.

Kodi Ly Antoniusarson Kodi Ly Antoniusarson Radio_Rat66.6 Radio_Rat66.6 Sizniche Sizniche
 
Annie

"I AM CONFUSED. ARE YOU BOYS IN DISGUISE? I THOUGHT THAT ONE WAS AN ELF. AND ALSO MAYBE A LADY. I SEE NO BOYS HERE." Annie grabs Halsten by the lapels and attempts to hold him up, staring to Ragna. "ARE YOU SAYING THAT THIS IS A DISGUISE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THOSE BOY HEARTS? DO THEY HOLD POWER!" At this point, she is screaming loud enough to shake the walls of the temple, the stone effigy wobbling behind her. She releases Halsten and stares to Ulfirc "I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GREAT HUNTER! REVEAL YOURSELF, BOY DEMON! SHOW ME YOUR INSIDES!" She removes George from her back, holding it in front of her chest "MAKE IT SO I DO NOT SMITE YE BOI DEMONS! SURRENDER TO ANNIE!"

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Þorgrímr
Kneeling before the Altar of Odin
Þorgrímr nodded in astonishment, he had never heard of nor set foot in any placed named... Ire Land. An interesting name, if confounding.

"A beautiful name, Azlyn, I sense that it suits you well. He looked back towards Odin's Alter. "Stories of the Allfather himself, I must admit that can hardly believe such a claim. You may have to regale me wit-" His nose wrinkled, as he felt the air move aside for yet another visitor, but he kept himself still facing the Allfather. A young woman, although certainly older than dear Azlyn. She reeked confidence, the stench of such only rivaled by the silver pouring from her. Such a vile smell, Þorgrímr had never understood the appeal of the metal, and he didn't think he'd ever understand. He also heard the slight jingle of coin against itself and leather, along with the faintest hint of food that he couldn't identify at present.

Whoever this was, she was a traveler and well-traveled, and one of minimum materials.

"Come to express sympathy for the Allfather's plight, or simply to ask of his services?" he questioned the newcomer, without the slightest hint of venom in his voice. Many of the faith find even the slightest straying from the standard to be horrific. Þorgrímr simply stayed true to the Gods as best as he could, and paid little mind to those who didn't. Such was their error, not his. In this moment, he simply wanted to get a quick, general feeling of the woman.
 
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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn couldn't wait to tell Þorgrímr her stories. He seemed like another person who would love them. She wondered if he was going for Mjöllnir. She could accompany him and tell him stories to keep his spirits up! She'd ask him later. She looked up at him and watched as his nose wrinkled and tried to figure out what was bothering him. She couldn't smell anything that would produce such a stench.

She turned and looked towards the new woman. She seemed happy as could be. Azlyn could see it radiating off of her in golden waves, with vibrant blue ones as well. Such confidence for one person. She'd wait to give flowers to people who needed them.

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Arvo Turgard
Following said demonstration
Arvo fumbled for his feathers before walking to the alter and placing them down gently. He said a quick prayer under his breath; the necessary wishes and an outpour of thanks. He turned his head towards the man who had decapitated the beaver.

“Thank you for showing me how. I’m Arvo Turgard-“ Arvo was doing a quick introduction when suddenly Annie’s voice boomed loud enough to make him wince in phantom pain. The birds that had previously been mooching food off of him flew away.

“Nobody is a demon! It was a figure of speech. In other words, a joke!” Arvo pulled his cloak tighter around him, “Nobody needs to be ‘smited’.” He exclaimed in hopes nobody would get torn to shreds in such a holy place.

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Asur
Odin's temple

Asur had thought things might go well that even a girl as stupid as Annie could understand the threat and the idea of sit down and shut up or else it seemed Asur had over estimated her. The girl couldn't even go 5 minutes without screaming and shouting even the most ill behaved of children could remain quiet longer than her it seemed. Asur had to wonder just how this woman had been raised as Asur doubted even animals could put up with her as even the most wild of wolf packs had order to it and Annie seemed to be chaos incarnate. It did seem that others were getting fed up with Annie as well her disrespect towards the gods and even towards a grieving father was beyond abhorrent and she seemed nto to realize any of the customs of midguard or Valhalla and yet she thought herself worthy to join the aesir.

Asur moved quickly to the stupid giant and with a flash her halberd was at the girls throat " What did i say behave and stay quiet " Asur said clearly annoyed but more in the kind of angry that you disappointed them over just mad at you way a mother or parent might have towards a child. Asur truly did see Annie as little more than a huge stupid child lacking in any form of knowledge. " Now sit down and do not move for the rest of this blessing, also if you could keep your mouth closed that would be for the better" Asur ordered not waning to give Odin more to grieve over and thus not actually going to try to kill Annie as she might a normal human.

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Alveria
Location: Within the temple
Alveria was letting her self-inflicted wound heal while watching everyone socialize. She would, but she was a bit afraid. She could feel the strength most of them exuded, and knew she would be crushed with the slightest touch.

Her ears perked up when she heard a certain girl speak of stories. Of course, she knew most of the stories of the Gods, she grew in them, but hearing them from another might prove to be another experience. She debated whether to approach or not. In the end, she did.

"E-excuse me," she approached the lady and gulped down her trembles, "I couldn't help but hear you talk about stories. I would like to hear them."

She realized she has not yet given her name, nor does she know the name of whom she was talking to.

"I-I'm Alveria... An elf..."

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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn looked up at the elven woman. She smiled her childish grin that showed off the gaps left by her fallen baby teeth. "Oh, yes. I know many great stories. Who would you like to hear stories of. I have many of the Allfather and his children. Or one of a girl dressed in red who met a wolf in the woods. I know a few of Heimdall, Niorun, even Hel." She was so delighted to hear that someone was interested in her stories.

"It's wonderful to meet you Alveria." Azlyn held out her tiny hand to the woman. "I'm Azlyn. A half-breed."

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Alveria
Location: Within the temple
"I see... A half-breed..."

Alveria had no problem with any of the races, except humans. Humans were the mistake that the Gods made and never bothered to correct. They kill and destroy, and at night sleep like children.

"I love the stories of Odin's quest for wisdom. It's the same as the quest I wish to undertake. I assume you are on the quest for Mjolnir as well?" she asked.

Somehow, she feels at ease now that she has someone to talk to that she isn't entirely afraid of.
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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn looked up at the elf. "All creations are wonderful. I have many a great stories of humans." She truly did love every being she came across. She understood that people had experiences that changed the way they viewed the world and those in it. She fixed her skirts and plucked a daisy from her basket and held it out to the girl. "Here. To lift your spirits and wash away the nervous waves that wrap around you tight."

"I do wish to journey for Mjolnir, but my Papa said I cannot unless I find someone to take me. He says I am too young to journey beyond the town alone. I was coming to find someone very strong to accompany me, someone to keep me safe in exchange for stories and wisdom." Azlyn looked down for a moment. "But as of current, no one wants a ten year old story-teller to follow them around on a quest."

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Þorgrímr
Kneeling before the Altar of Odin
Þorgrímr turned his attention back to Azlyn the moment he heard the Elf walk towards them. He remained silent as they conversed, keeping his thoughts to himself. "Half-breed, it seems we are more alike than I had initially believed", the warrior mumbled. He bristled at the mention of Heimdallr, but kept quiet all the same. His head turned towards Azlyn when she lamented her father's restriction. He felt empathy for the child. He knew well a father's forbiddances. Mjöllnir or no Mjöllnir, it was decided.

"Azlyn, might I make a suggestion?", he asked quietly, briefly pausing. "If you were to tell me a story of the son of Nine Mothers, then perhaps I shall agree to being your companion."

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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn beamed at the mention that Þorgrímr was a half-breed. "Who are your parents, Mister Þorgrímr? My mother is Niorun, Goddess of Dreams." She closed her eyes and thought of the dreams where her mother visited her. She'd sing to her and hold her and listen to the misspoken stories of a toddler. She couldn't even tell if he'd answered her question or not.

She came back to her thoughts when he mentioned being her companion. "You want me to tell you a story of Heimdall in exchange for being my companion? You'd really do that?" Azlyn stood up on her knees, not quite believing the offer she was being given.

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Þorgrímr
Kneeling before the Altar of Odin
While Þorgrímr had no hint as to any facial expression Azlyn might make, the tone of her voice alone indicated to him that she was in a state of disbelief, with a healthy measure of excitement. He heard her voice rise in the air ever so slightly, she had stood up on her knees.

He held up his forefinger. "Yes, with but one condition. I myself know all the stories of the one with the golden teeth", he highlighted the word "all" by raising both hands and pushing them out to the sides, palms facing in. "So, if your story proves to be true and accurate, then I shall accompany you to wherever it is you may want to go."

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Alveria
Location: Within the temple

Alveria held the flower in her hands and smiled. Ten years old? She was a hundred and eighteen years older than her, but why does it seem that Azlyn is more mature than she is? She sighed.

"I would love to take you, but I am not strong at all."

She watched her as she talked to the man who knelt at the altar. He looked strong, looked as strong as a true God. One of these people may be truly worthy of wielding the power of an Aesir. She knew that and yet, she cannot give up, for she had her wish, and for that wish she would do anything, even if it terrified her.

"I see most of you are children of Gods. I am out of my place here. Azlyn, and Mister," she gave a nod towards the man in respect.

With that, she covered her face and turned her face towards the altar, praying once more for protection and guidance.
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Azlyn
Before the Altar of Odin

Azlyn was skeptical of his claim to knowing all stories of Heimdallr. She, besides the gods themselves, were the only ones she'd ever known to know their stories. "I do not think you know all of them. I am the Storyteller. I can tell you stories as if I was there when Heimdallr bred with three human couples of different social classes for three nights to create Great-grandparents, Grandparents, and Parents. The ugliest of them was Thrall, ancestor to all serfs. The second born was Karl, the ancestor of all peasants. And lastly was Jarl, ancestor of all warriors and noblemen. He was the most skilled and smartest of the three. And their names are our social classes to this day. þræll, karls, and jarls." She hadn't realized she'd launched into a long story until she finished it.

"Heimdallr did not tire, whereas his companions did so easily. He is now known as the Father of all men because of those fateful nights." She sat back down and waited for his response.

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