Midgard – The Atlantic Ocean - Summer…
Water is warm. Makes
bonesscalesbody warm. Summer is here…Season is coming.
In the rippling waves so deep,
off the honorable and gradually warming coast of the eastern continents, an
array of innumerable living things make their home.
Fish, yes of course, and their
close mammal cousins and microscopic vegetal neighbors. Coral is the structure
of their city, the lit canopy of water above their makeshift sky…And then the
ocean’s floor, winding and freezing even in summer.
Looming even grander than the
collections of coral is a body scaled like thick armor, its blood running an
icy river once more as it stirs from a temporary and welcoming hibernation.
Only the season could do such a thing…
Getting oldstiffslow. Not long
left. Maybe last season…
Thousands upon millions of
gallons of water rush whitish-blue foam when fathoms themselves are scaled in
seconds. An emerald head pierces the water’s maidenhead before raising
triumphantly, gracefully higher.
A swan cry, as beautiful as it is
heart-wrenching, heard from the eastern villages to the furthest western
establishments…The four corners of the earth…
RRRAAAGGHHHHAAARRRRRRRR!
She roars loudly in her native
tongue, thoughts melancholy in contrast.
She has many names, as many as
years she has survived a cruel existence. The ancient Egyptians thought her to
be their reptile god, Seth, set forth on them with the breath of Ra. Native
Americans entitled her “Rising Guardian”, to whom they would sacrifice a single
buffalo each year, as she rose from the waters, in hopes of a fruitful fishing
excursion. Spaniards of the Old World called her Lagarto del Demonio – “Demon
Lizard”, even as they sailed their frail ships over her waters in hopes of a
better country.
In modern times, both the Asian
countries and Americas have given her a single name recognized by nearly any.
The name?
“Godzilla”.
Season is here…Last mateseason.
------------------------------
(Note: Read Thor #538, then Marvel Fanfare #114, “MV1 Holiday Blizzard, Part Two”, before reading this issue.)
‘Twas the End of All Things: A facet of Ragnarok itself. The mad offspring of Chaos, Entropy, had consumed Eternity and with him, the Nine Realms and beyond. The Everything itself was naught. Yet, guided by the noble Jack of Hearts, the mighty Thor, proud son of Lord Odin, persevered over the ambitious monstrosity, rending Entropy from within the entity’s belly itself! With Entropy’s ending, the Nine Realms and all within them were borne anew from seeds sewn by the Gardener himself. As Asgard itself was whole again, its king and ruler, Odin One-Eye, was not as easy, as a promise made long ago was made true, and on a Christmas Eve so unique, both he and Thor received a gift: For the Raven King, a son, and for the Thunderer, a brother…
------------------------------
The Golden Realm of Asgard, its main city arguably one of the most beautifully inspiring places to visit, shines a renewed luster, not unlike a freshly forged piece of fine weaponry. It is felt that the spirits of Asgard’s many inhabitants has lifted since the rebirthing of their world, and their own lives in fact.
And, in a general sense, this is true. The
feelings of the Asgardian peoples reflect the gayety having a newborn world
they’ve known since their own births.
So Lord Odin himself would dare to claim, as he
looks out over his people, his children, with a single all-seeing eye from the
firm stone balcony of his castle. They celebrate, this day, for the ushering in
of a second age…And a second heir to the throne of Asgard.
“Mine subjects! Mine precious subjects… Hear me now, so that thou may know the words
of Odin!” His ancient voice holds power beyond that of the entire audience,
nearly all of Asgard, and in instants their melded murmurs have subsided to the
whim of the king. Basking in the daylight, Odin looks rejuvenated, his beard
thick and full and his eyes swimming in vitality. He begins.
“Years ago…Not so many years ago, mine
heart attempts to convince me…A day like this one befell fabled Asgard. On that
bright day, in the afternoon rays of the golden sun, I presented to thou a
child, birthed of the Spirit of Midgard, Gaea, and myself.
“’Lo, the infant’s presence was new to this
place, and thou embraced him with open, loving arms. This child matured to
become Asgard’s champion, the mighty Thor, who has defended this plane more
times than even this god can count. Despite the scandal that could have
been found in Thor’s birth, thou as a people accepted and nurtured him as
though he were thy own each. I, as your Lord Odin, thank thee for such
gentleness and acceptance.
“And with such thanks, I must ask a boon of each
of thou. In times past I have often sampled the offerings of fair Midgard in
many ways, this beyond the reason of public discussion. Though, ‘twixt these
long times, something more than a lovechild was born of a …Delightful creature.
A Prince of Ravens, my people, born to Odin, and now returned to his paternal
home!
“O’, to see Asgard for the first time again! Let
us welcome him, my subjects,” Odin cries with his thick arms stretched to the
sky. “Show your love for your new prince…”
From the playful shadows of an archway behind
Odin, a thick figure steps forward, his black, ashy wings held together behind
his recently covered, rippling back. Revealed in the light are his handsome
features, his flowing thick hair as nocturnal as his wings and stature
comparable to both Odin’s and Thor’s, who escapes the dark room himself, much
less announced.
“Rahfael the Winged!”
The cheers from below nearly knock the winged
young man off his sturdy balance, each single yell so heartfelt that they must
be separated out and studied individually for meaning. A light sweat perspires
from Rahfael’s dense pores, though he smiles with a closed mouth. From the
corner of his lips, he speaks in a muffled tone to his father.
“They are, my son,” Odin answers in a similar, hushed voice, still looking out over the crowd proudly. “I am their king, for sooth…Yet they are their own, as well, and they choose their obedience as they please.”
“I would consider you more than just their king…” Rahfael continues, but Odin steps closer to the edge of the balcony, gripping its stony rail with crushing grip. The powerful body he carries seems to almost grow in size as he leans slightly over its raised ending.
“As thou should…” Thor adds almost whispering.
“My children, Asgard…Thy children and protectors! Thy future kings! Look upon them and remember this day not like any other. The Odinsons reunited!”
The two, the brightly detailed Thor and the inversely dark Rahfael in a thin charcoal tunic and black leggings that end in heavy metal boots, stand tall in front of Odin to be presented side by side before their people, whose applause and screaming finds no end. And so far away are the members of the crowd, so distracted are his father Odin and half-brother Rahfael, that the silently discouraged expression on Thor’s dashing face goes unheeded.
“Words, my lord!” One voice among the crowd’s countless, closest to the balcony, calls out. Soon the other indistinguishable screams have turned to similar yells.
“O’ mighty Thor, but thou would speak!”
“Tell us thy feelings of yon new half-brother!”
The pressure builds. The cries die out, with all eyes upon Thor, standing unusually awkwardly for one such as he. Rahfael hears his long sigh before giving into their demands quite slowly.
“…I have known dark Rahfael not but a spell, as yet. What I have seen myself…And have been told by our all-father Odin…Hath led me to believe that the winged one is truly of Od’s blood, and therefore worthy of any praise he should receive.”
The words come in short spurts from Thor’s mouth, and all is silent among those gathered. He sighs with strong lungs again, then takes a single step back. “Please excuse me…It seems I feel a bit ill.”
Despite the restrained air given by Thor, the crowd cheers even as he takes his leave back towards the archway and retreats to the shadows once again. He leaves behind a cold breeze. The applause is resounding, almost deafening, with both Rahfael and Odin joining. Odin’s face, though, does not match the dictation of his hands. Solemnly, he approaches his remaining son. Again, the audience’s wall of noise is deconstructed.
A pause is held and stretched out as long as it can be. “Odin…” The winged man says uncomfortably and out of the range of hearing of the crowd.
“Call me father, if thou canst, Rahfael. They are thy people, whether thou knows it yet or not…Go ahead and give them thy words.”
Similar to Thor’s own, Rahfael sighs in preparation for his first nervous words to this people.
“H…Hello. This city…This entire place is very, very beautiful. There is no place like it on Earth…or Midgard…”
His speech is unprepared and directly from his heart through his throat and out of his mouth. For this, the handsome man of feathers and royal blood is endeared to the crowd more and more so with each passing moment, each passing word.
It lasts only moments, but in the passing of those moments the already joyous peoples of Asgard are roused to single, unified cheer which serves in Rahfael’s mind as the sign of his official acceptance among them…Something he finds himself enjoying, perhaps short of lusting for, more and more.
------------------------------
Later…
Thor lays on the sturdy bed he has used since his childhood, comfortable within his own quarters. The stone-lain walls mean sanctuary to him, and for once, this god is tired.
KNOCK KNOCK
Flesh strikes the wood of Thor’s
door, unsurprising to its owner. His outward recognition of the knocking is
nearly nonexistent, and it comes again, louder.
KNOCK KNOCK
“Aye, I am within. I do not wish
to be disturbed though, father.” Surely only the father of Asgard would
approach Thor the Mighty’s room after a display as such, and so Thor himself
believes. But the door squeaks anyway when opened, and Thor is again
unsurprised by the action, though the body revealed behind the door jars him
from his rest.
“It seems that it’s too late for
that, from what we saw earlier,” Says Rahfael as he comes through the door and
shuts it, his voice chiseled from an eagle’s mountain. Again Thor lays down,
sinking heavier into the mattress.
“Thou judgest he whom thou doth
not know, winged one,” Thor tells him, with little to hide his bitterness. “I
believed such a trait was looked down upon in your religion.”
Still standing at the door and
protruding from his surroundings, Rahfael takes the blow lightly. “That is part
of the reason I’m here. And I’ve done no judging today, Thor, especially not of
you, though I’m not sure of yourself, if I may be so bold.”
“Whatever dost thou mean?” Thor
asks cynically.
“Brother…” Rahfael begins, and
Thor holds up his hand quickly.
“No. We are not brothers. Of
them, I have none.”
“No? What of Loki, the trickster
god? Or is he something else only created among the whispers of the common
folk?”
“Utgard Loki exists, for sooth.
If thou knew much of him thou wouldst know that he is hardly one to be
considered a brother, by blood or by action.” Even Rahfael finds discomfort in
the frigidness of Thor’s blue eyes. Despite this, he continues.
“Very well…Thor, then. I have
been in Asgard for less than a week, and we have not come to know each other
one bit better after my first day. I would be an understatement to say that
I’ve sensed hints of hostility from you.”
There is a pause between the
two, then Thor urges him on. “And?”
“And that is not how I would
like for things to go between us.”
“How wouldst thou like
for ‘things’ to go between us then, winged one? What is it that you prefer?”
“I would prefer us to be more
like the brothers, half or not, that we are. When Odin and I came to
Asgard, and I first saw you below us, I thought that I was descending on
someone who I would soon spend time with and come to understand. Perhaps even
to be friends with, beyond blood. But I’ve received more than my share of
blatant unhappy glances and other things similar from you since I arrived.
“So I’m asking you now, Thor:
Why?”
Thor sucks in his breath,
releases it, then sits up more in his bed. “I have given thou no worse
treatment than I would if thou were a visitor, which to me, thou are for the
time being.”
“Ha!” Rahfael squawks a
facetious laugh. “Don’t think you haven’t made it more than obvious you
have a problem, Thor. Our father was somewhat unhappy with you after the
gathering…”
“Our father,” Thor
interrupts with a slowly reddening face and rising tone, “Hath not had his own
parent’s and people’s love ripped from him by an accidental being who has
proved himself neither in battle nor in stature.”
Rahfael is very still. “Ah.”
Both of their stares run a
burning cold that stifles the silence until interrupted.
KNOCK KNOCK
“Thor? M’lord?” Asks a small
female voice from outside the door. “I am terribly sorry to bother thou whilst
thou art ill…”
“Please,” Thor replies, “Come
in. I am feeling surprisingly better.” He catches one last glimpse in Rahfael’s
direction before a petite, violet-skinned fairy creature enters, bringing with
her a crystalline scent as well as a plain but pretty green tunic, like the
color of a lily pad.
“Oh! I was unaware of thy
company…” She says, looking to the winged man before her.
“’Tis no matter, Delilah. For
what service hast thou paid me this pleasantly prodigious visit?”
Her blindingly white teeth show
in a childish smile, and Delilah has to stop herself from giggling. “Lady Amora
requests an audience with thou and Lord Rahfael in Father Odin’s court.”
“Amora…” For slowly passing
seconds Thor’s mind and heart stretch their existence at mention of the name.
The flood of memories is dammed by reality, however. “Did she give a reason?”
“Only that it is of the utmost
importance, milord.”
Sighing, then standing slowly,
Thor retrieves Mjolnir from his bedside as well as donning his crimson cape.
“Very well. I have hardly a notion what the Enchantress may want with both thou
and myself…” Thor says, making way to the oft-used door.
“…We shall see soon enough,
though.” Rahfael follows behind unfamiliar names, thick boots, and heels
glowing a teasing glow.
------------------------------
Midgard –The Atlantic
Ocean – Approaching Winter…
Why hurt me?
Rapid gunfire inscribes painful
scriptures into the thick hide of Godzilla, their origin being a chrome-colored
ship close to the American east coast waters. The gargantuan lizard has been
under fire for a small while, never stopping, never tiring, dredging through
gradually cooling waters.
Why hurt me? Did nothing.
Just walkswim to land. To mate.
Each bullet is a tiny insect’s
sting to her. None of them matter themselves, but in the end, so many stings no
matter how small…
Why HURT ME? Always hurt.
Always run. Hurt back.
“Jesus H. Christ! It’s turning
around…!” A man onboard the vessel cries deathly.
“Just use the damn missiles!”
Another demands.
“But we’ve already used
them…They…Didn’t do anything at all…”
“Oh my God, no…”
The tail of Godzilla itself is
enough to crush the ship, coming down like a mallet that cracks the brittle
material in two. The freezing water invades the new spaces, men are swept away
in currents as angry as their bringer.
Always hurt first. Hurt BACK.
The men’s cries, like the
bullets, are nothing in the face of her quest. She continues on towards distant
land, slowly, surely…
Smell him. Smell good.
------------------------------
Asgard - The Court of Odin…
They stand before the god among gods, Odin, under both his gaze and that of the age-old stones and metals, eternally strong. To one side stand Thor and Rahfael, the Thunderer and the one of dark wings, while the messenger Delilah keeps even further to their side, away from them yet still watching.
Opposite them is the pinnacle of beauty, everlasting, pure and seductive. Amora the Enchantress, with golden blonde hair flowing wistfully past her tan shoulders, curling around the bottom of her perfect face atop a more than perfect body. Her last visit to this palace was both long ago and under terms less welcome than tumultuous. As far as she can tell, little has happened to change this situation.
“Amora,” Odin states simply, the word creeping up and down Thor’s neigh-immortal vertebrae, “Thou hast called an audience with mine two sons, and I have granted thou such a wish. Now it is time to reveal the reason for such an urgent calling.”
She looks unusually uncomfortable there in front of the god she once called lover, the new son of Asgard, and their father and lord. Amora’s personal upholding alone would often carry her easily through a conversation as such. But there, now, she is different. Gentler. Reserved.
“My lord Odin…It has come to my attention through magiks that there is a grave disturbance on Midgard, due to Thor’s recent endeavors through Eternity, something that threatens the safeguard of the planet as well as bearing legendary meaning…”
“Please, Amora,” Thor says, almost timidly as well, “Simply tell us.”
“Jormanghda,” Is all she says, and the faces of all save Rahfael change shape. “The name has some meaning to thou, then?” She asks almost facetiously.
“Of course,” Thor answers. “He is a legend, the Midgard Lizard, like a brother to Jormungadnr, who was born of Loki and the giantess Angerboda.”
“He is said to live under the waves, just as Jormungadnr once did before growing too large. Jormanghda is told to be the warrior in waiting, behind the World Serpent, in case someday his older brother were to meet an unfortunate fate.”
“He did so, by Thor’s hand, Amora,” Odin tells her.
“I am well aware of that, lord. Yet Jormanghda failed appear, did he not? This is why I stand before thee today.”
“To spout untruths no one else dares?” Thor says.
“To warn thou. To hope that thou may do something to
halt it.”
“Halt what,
prithee?”
“Another legend goes back beyond the oldest of times. It contradicts the legend of the Scaled Brothers, Children of Loki…Yet it is for sooth, today. The legend tells of Jormanghda as a female, the sister of Jormungadnr, who would, at the dawn of the New Year, find her brother and mate with him to conceive a horrible creature more powerful than them combined. Today is the day of the New Year.”
“Jormungadnr has been dead for a long while,” Thor says.
“He was, yes. And then thou went and recreated the Nine Realms, and everything within them. Didst thou not see the infant snake at the freshly borne Midgard, Thor? It has grown. Jormungadnr is no longer dead, and he will be seeking his sister as we speak.”
The realization comes slowly to Thor, his eyes widening, but for a moment they return to their normal size. “It must be a jest! How the creature be both male and female? ‘Tis impossible.”
“That isn’t true…” Rahfael adds in for his first time, drawing both Amora and Thor’s glances. “You say this creature is reptilian? And that it makes a home underwater? There are frogs on Earth, or Midgard, that change their genders according to the season.”
“The winged one speaks true, Thor, though ‘tis not the point I intend to make. The two cannot be allowed to borne offspring, and only thou have been known to defeat the Midgard Serpent before. I Prithee that thou shouldst do so again.”
It takes very little time for Thor to ponder the information. Alas, his question remains. “If thou seekest for me to defeat Jormungadnr again for the sake of Midgard, I shalt do so verily, yet I ask you, why call Rahfael here as well?”
“One can assume that two sons of all-powerful Odin could stop such creatures at least as easily as one…”
“Thou suggests I take the boy with me?”
“Boy...?” Rahfael muses temporarily, stopped by Odin’s booming voice.
“Hush, Thor.”
“Our thanks, Amora, from both mine son and myself for divulging such information to us. What wouldst thou request as a payment?” Asks Odin, and Thor looks brashly at him.
“Father! Surely thou art…”
“’Tis the way of noblemen, Thor, and even those of our creed shan’t deny her at least a small portion for her trouble.”
Again, Thor looks dissatisfied. “Nary do I trust her.”
“Thou did, once,” Amora adds offhand, and Thor stares her down.
“Aye. Not long ago. It would seem that has changed, along with other things.”
“Dost thou wish to argue with the rules of nobility, mine son?” Odin asks warily, causing Thor to finally shake his head while still looking at Amora.
“Nay…Nay. What is thy boon?”
“Scales, off the backs of both great creatures for a keepsake. A small portion from each is all I ask.”
“Then it shall be so,” Odin says in Thor’s place. “Thou shouldst leave then, Amora, again with our thanks.”
“And thee with mine, Lord Odin,” She says, bowing gracefully. She looks up from her bow, and seeming to look past Thor, her eyes catch Rahfael in their hold. “Thy acquaintance was a pleasure, handsome Raven Prince,” Says she, hints of a grin on the sides of her pouting lips. Then leaving on slender legs strong enough to crack tree trunk under their power, the Enchantress exits the room, in her wake a frustrated god and his dumbfounded half-brother.
“Thy manners have not pleased me on this day, Thor,” Odin begins as soon as Amora’s lithe form has disappeared. “I should be embarrassed, for the first time in longer than even I can remember, at your display on this, the merriest of days, the newest of New Years so ripe and gay.”
“I don’t know why you both gave her what she wanted, if she isn’t to be trusted,” Rahfael adds.
“These are the ways of the high gods,” Thor informs him cynically without lifting his gaze on his father, “The rules of our society that we must follow. She has done us a good duty, warning us so that we may save one of the Nine Realms, a thing that one of our own should have realized before. I am correct, father?” He asks facetiously to his father.
“We shall have words later, Thor. There is business for both of thou to tend to,” Is all Odin replies, overbearing both of his children.
“Nay, I should say, but for I alone,” Thor turns his back to the court. “Rahfael has the experience of a child, and there is a dangerous battle ahead. I shalt go myself to defeat the Utgard’s children.”
“Experience of a child…?” Rahfael asks angrily, stepping forward. “You’re the one who has acted like a child ever since I arrived! I’m astounded that Odin is even allowing you to go alone on this task without more chastisement.”
“I am no pup to be punished like thyself, Rahfael. Stay home with your newfound love, the people of Asgard. I shalt save my second home…”
“It is my home as much as yours, Thor, if not more, and I’ll gladly give my life to show you!” Suddenly, with wind pushing out in the entire court, Rahfael’s dark wings spread to their full girth and lift him high into the air, seeming to widen his already thick body even more so. He flies to the hole-like window in the side of the courtroom and hovers there, staring back at his half-brother.
“Join me if you like, but I will not be treated like an infant.” And with that, he dashes out the window with flurried feathers off into the distant horizon.
“He is but a young one, Thor,” Odin says, almost like a warning, “But he is of our blood. Thou should not doubt him in battle based on thy juvenile contempt for him.”
Thor looks back only briefly, the unusual tension between he and his father seeming to peak at an unseen climax, and then turns back before speaking.
“Thou art right, father.
“We shall have words…Later.”
------------------------------
Elsewhere - Autumn Colored Leaves…
Autumn colored leaves tickle the air along crisp breezes near the path to a relatively small castle, wonderful despite its size. Alone, a shadow against a dark backdrop, Amora the Enchantress bows her magnificent head to the ground. She knows very well that all too soon she will feel that whirlpool of glowing, sickening power that aches her gut, with it a presence that can frighten even the likes of herself.
As
it begins, Amora is not surprised, nor is she anxious that it could be anyone
else at all, for she has long released her grasp on that, her last vain thread
of hope. Circling from the infinite corners of the air it draws in an arcane
breath before exhaling a musty brimstone flavor into the room. Top to bottom,
the shape is formed from the particles to become something much more than that.
Amora
shudders at the sight of the fine green cloth with yellow trimmings, the tuft
of thin black hairs materializing as the devilishly grinning face comes into
view. Suddenly the room has a new atmosphere all together. The overwhelming
thickness of it chokes Amora.
“All
went well then?” Asks the actively high voice of the shape, more than a man.
“As
thou wished, yes…” Amora replies quietly, still looking down and away in a
passive position.
“And
the new one? You enticed him?”
“Yes…He
noticed, lord.”
“Very
good, very good. I had no doubt, with your beauty…Thou hast made me proud,
Amora, escaping the shackles of past love as such.”
“I…I
thank thee, my lord.”
He
steps around her, taking stunted steps with his lanky twigs of arms meeting in
clasped gloves behind his back. ““Dost thou know how long I have anticipated
such a day that I should rule this plane, with thou at my side?” He asks her,
stopping his stroll around the edges of the invisible circle drawn around
Amora. She does not answer, and he continues walking after staring at her.
“Long enough, indeed. Longer than I can even remember…” He halts himself in
speech, but continues his circling.
“No.
I can remember.” He adds suddenly, correcting himself, then walking silently
again.
“Remember
what, lord?” Amora asks him with a newfound curiosity.
“The
day that I found my destiny and its cause. But ‘tis no matter, as that path is
now slowly being beaten, thanks to thou, o’ lovely one.”
A
final time, he stops his pacing, this time behind the example of beauty before
him. “Thou hast done well, mine love…” He says, placing an arm around her
waist. She quivers under the contact, but remains in her place. “With the
scales, the circle is complete, and it is only a small matter of time.”
With
that, he spins her, handling her like a doll or some checker piece for his
bidding, and pulls her forcefully close. They kiss, or rather, he kisses her,
as she hangs limp in his arms. The embrace is awkward and unsettling, his
bittersweet taste ever present in Amora’s tongue.
And
Loki smiles a demon’s grin around her mouth.
------------------------------
He must come lower. He must come faster. His
wings, though stalwart, feel the friction of the air against their ashen
feathers as they plummet with him through open sky, down further and further,
like a fallen angel…
Coming closer. Mate soon. Smells good…
The splash of green on the blue palette of the Atlantic Ocean is quite easy for Rahfael to see, even from his high altitude, which is decreasing with each passing second. His only weapons his limbs and body, carried by his tools of flight, the Raven Prince keeps a determined face while his trajectory remains all the same.
Noise? Birdman? Going to
hurt..?.
THOOM!
“Whether you are female or male, I have no issue in striking you for this earth you endanger if you will not stop!” Cries Rahfael, flying directly into Godzilla with the force of an avalanche in his two cuffed fists. The blow sends a shockwave through the water and disperses the assorted ships nearby, leaving the assailed creature to her attacker. She is shaken…And angered.
“RRRAAAGGHHHHAAARRRRRRRR!” She cries into the sky. A swat from her stout arms misses Rahfael as he deftly darts to and fro in the air. Another hit is struck on the towering lizard, on the rear of her neck, and she lashes out in agony with an accompanying whimper.
“I don’t wish to hurt you,” Rahfael assures the creature, his words falling upon deaf ears. “But I can’t allow anyone or anything else to be lost…” Continually dodging and striking, both fail to notice the approaching presences…
Higher above, Thor’s form comes into view from the clouds, soaring behind Mjolnir with his cape flowing behind. He spies the scene below, and for a nervous instant finds himself almost impressed with the sheer force of his half-brother. But a green and brown fleck in his eye turns longer, and larger…
“What…?” He begins, and quickly increases his speed with renewed fervor. “Rahfael, keep an eye watchful…!”
And as the winged half-god turns, he does so too slowly.
KRACK!
Rarely anymore does Thor the thunder god stare in belief. However, he does so now, with Rahfael’s limp form splashing into the sea under the long shadows of both Godzilla…
“Greetings, little god.”
And Jormungadnr, the Midgard Serpent.
Hurt back. Hurt…Then mate…..
------------------------------
NEXT: “Mating Song”
------------------------------
THE HAMMER
STRIKES
I
apologize, as we all often do, for the lateness of this issue. I put out the
first four within about two months, and though I knew (and know) where I was
(am) going, it still has taken a while. However, there are happier
subjects…Such as LETTERS. We have plenty, including one from MV1 author Jeff
Melton about #537, writer of both Original Human Torch and Captain
America here at the Avengers branch.
“First
of all, I enjoyed seeing the effect that this strange virus is having
on
other people, besides the dinizens of Asgard. I think it is often
effective
to show the effect of Marvel events on its citizens and I think
Will
did a good job of that, with the people in the hospital in this issue.”
Thanks,
Jeff…That’s exactly what I wanted to do.
“I
thought that the resolution to the K'Rann part of the storyline was very
interesting.
I thought you did a lot of interesting things with this story
in
the way you portrayed K'Rann:
*
The part of the story dealing with the Watcher's violation of the prime
directive
was handled very well. The Watcher broke the oath his people have,
and
we saw that it resulted in disaster. This made for a good moral, and
reminded
me of classic Star Trek in the way this way handled.”
I’ve
always been a bit confused as to how Uatu always breaks his oath yet few bad
things come of it. It doesn’t have to be a Watcher for something bad like this
to happen.
“*
The Watcher planned to develop the city, but wound up being the driving
force
of the civilization, and became their "heart". He may have given them
a
lot of things, like technology, but he stifled their progress as
independent
lifeforms, and in the end, that will cost them a great deal. I
can
only think of how listless they will be now that he is dead.”
If
you really care about how the Kranians end up, you may want/need to stick
around for a while…
“*
I thought Will did a fine job of portraying Thor's power in this issue. At
times,
I forgot that he was sick, the way that he did most of the things he
did
in a virtually effortless manner. I enjoyed seeing this, and I thought
it
was very impressive the way that Thor dispatched the machinery, and wound
up
freeing both the people and the Watcher himself from their self-imposed
prisons.”
Asgard’s
champion versus Living Computer Planet? Thor. Not by default.
“I've
been apprehensive about the sickness dealing with the Asgardians from
the
beginning. I thought the scene with the Warriors Three was kind of
weird,
and it seemed out of place with the rest of the story. I know that
what
he was trying to do was just give us an idea of what was going on in
Asgard
during this time that Thor was away. One thing I think you missed out
on
is handling the Asgardians with the illness as it related to the way they
looked
at life. What I mean is that to the Asgardians, dying of illness is
the
worst hell they can imagine. They all envision themselves dying in
battle,
and the stigma associated with dying of an illness would be very
pronounced.
Just a suggestion.”
I’m
glad you’ve mentioned this to me, because it is an aspect I realized but merely
forgot about while writing this specific story. I hope I can hit it a little
closer in times to come.
“I'm
looking forward to seeing where this Eternity angle is headed. Eternity
is
a very interesting character, and it looks like Thor's going to do some
very
unique journeying. I look forward to seeing where this leads.
I
would like to recommend this series to other readers. Will is obviously
putting
a lot of time and effort into doing this series in a different and
interesting
way, and I think it's worth a read if you like Thor.
Jeff”
Thanks
for the all the kindness, Jeff. I hope you keep reading and enjoying, because
things are going to keep twisting and turning.
“I
just want to say that Thor #538 was a wonderful story, better than what Jurgens
has written so far.”
This
is a short anonymous letter from apparently an MV1 reader, but nonetheless,
thanks!
“I
just read Thor 538. It was great!!!
Please keep it up!
-Andrea
Rotondo”
Short
but sweet…Thanks, Andrea. I’m glad a lot of people read #538, and Jeff’s
letters about that issue and the story of Rahfael in the second Holiday
Blizzard will appear here next issue. Until then, keep clean: There’s a bunch
of savages in this town.
-Will Short
12:26 AM
February 9, 2001
Will Short can be reached at WeekapaugB@aol.com