#v;no god is worthy [odinson]

[fryordie]

@thehopcful | starter call

To have lived such a long life as he had came with a number of perks, skills that had accumulated through trial and error, to making mistakes and also learning from them. Chief among such qualities had been the ability to identify a lost traveller upon first sight. He knew well that disoriented look, at having lost one's way and unable to readjust their course.

In some ways, he was of a similar lean. Seeking fresh purpose in such a gods-forsaken universe.

"Do you require aid, stranger? You appear to be quite distracted."

[fryordie]

"Nay, such titles bear no meaning to me. I am the Odinson, nothing more. You would do well to remember that, outsider, before you decide to part with more petty insults in my presence."

"What, are you going to cry? Aren't you supposed to be a superhero?"

[olinodinson]

Primitive Beings: Olin's Ascent - The Beginning (on Wattpad) 

P.S. Editing more and more. And it only keeps getting juicier. Stay tuned. Energy shall always persist to change for as long as the water flows.

Farewell lovelies.

~Olin Odinson.

https://my.w.tt/KxDGEUVyYV I "Odin, the one true All-Father has made Me in his image to be worshiped and it is only Me that shall be worshiped." II "You shall not accept the Devil nor his blasphemous children." III "The unworthy are those faithless that use My name for gain." IV "Only the Worthy that which I have made royal in blood by the Stars above, may experience greed on the day of Sol." V "The Women were made to serve Man in all of their glory." VI "All sinners I have made to be used as a sacrifice for your Magick. With this, I gift you fortune and power-no sin may go unnoticed." VII "Man must be served in his chambers by those that which they are lustful towards, except Man; abominations." VIII "Should Man steal power from another I will smite him for the weakness of his heart." IX "False tales of birth will curse you and your children for eternity." X "You may utilize the Edaexu Stone of your Planet for whatever purpose the Worthy desire. XI "I gift to all High Priest the free usage of the Green Flames." XII "Sacrifices must be made before a Priest's initiation day." XIII "The Worthy are excused from sins. Bury the hatchet." 13 Green Edaexu Stone Laws ~God. "Is this the voice of God, or the High Priest?" - Olin Odinson. Will Olin be able to save the world from the lies told by the High Priests and bring faith back into the 'unworthy'?; a label for Humanity bestowed upon the High Priests themselves. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ARTWORK: (Not mine, I believe the artist to be James Strehle. Also subject to change.) "PYROPHILIAC [noun] one who has a sexual attractive or intense love of fire. one who lives in fire or relies on the presence on fire. Etymology: Greek pyro-, combining form of pŷr, & + philia, & [James Strehle - Fire Nymph" Stay Tuned...

[fryordie]

The sight before him is a curious one, taken up by a creature he had never seen before. For a time he observes its struggles, putting all its might into hefting a weapon that proved to be stubbornly particular about who it permitted to wield its might.

It didn't take the Odinson long to tire of their fruitless efforts.

"Cease thine actions, little one. You need not waste your energies so pointlessly." Letting his words carry across the distance, he called out from the wall he'd sat upon, one leg propped up and bent towards his chest as the other dangled beneath him. A quick glance at him yielded many details, including a raggedy appearance that was comprised of a read cloak worn about the shoulders, covering much of the prosthetic left hand that he placed upon his raised knee.

"The hammer will not budge. Conserve thy strength."

@fryordie

Spider Tsum is attempting to lift his hammer! Is, sadly, not worthy. He is not Thor Tsum, who is worthy. He's not entirely sure what it means to be worthy, but clearly, the hammer is not moving.

He is now attempting to move under it, to see if it moves.

[fryordie]

@walkerofclouds | starter call

A flash of lightning lit up the sky as they stood together, stoic witnesses to nature's unleashed fury. Caught up in a storm that was not of their own invention, the thunderer thrived in the tempestuous conditions, feeding off its energy. He could feel the static raise the hairs upon his skin, embracing the familiar crackle of manifested power as it wound itself around his outstretched hands.

He was in his element, and yet he was still left wanting, for reasons he could not parse. In search of answers, he turns to face his fellow lightning manipulator, his eyes alight with a glow that had not been illuminated within him for several months.

"Is it not a wondrous sight, Lady Munroe? To behold such a spectacle." Without use of his hammer, he held no sway over the elements that surrounded them. "Gods, how I miss it."

[fryordie]

@esinisex | starter call

Although he makes it a point to not get involved these days, there are some habits that remain unshakable, even for a fallen deity such as himself. Out of an abundance of patience, the former Avenger keeps Jarnbjorn held slack at his side, uru-forged fingers maintaining a loose hold on the axe's handle. Resisting the urge to take action against a known villain, he banked on the threat of action to hold the other at bay, act as a deterrent. If worst came to pass, he had estimated that it would only take the barest flick of his wrist to cleanly part the monster's head from his shoulders.

He hoped for both their sakes that such action would not become necessary.

"What manner of creature are you, mortal?"

[fryordie]

@hvedhrungr | starter call

"Of all the places across the realms, you still manage to find me." Little effort had been given to his attempt to hide, to withdraw from the public eye and his share of responsibilities. Whilst another waltz around with both his name and his own Odin-damned hammer, he had taken shelter in familiar comforts, in rancid smelling mead and lousy company.

"Speak quickly then, dearest sister. Or not at all." He could care less either way, speaking plainly as he eyed the dregs of lingering foam that dwelt at the bottom of his tankard. The heady scent of his breathe, combined with a dishevelled appearance suggested that the Odinson had been in residence here for a few days, much to the tavern owner's growing dismay.

"I care not which you chose."

[fryordie]

@hxllblazer​ | starter call

   In the quiet of evening, a deafening bellow disrupts proceedings. Fuelled by wrathfulness, of a magnitude he had not felt in a number of months, the Odinson had set off on a quest to find the one responsible for the destruction of a particular Asgardian treasure. Diligently, had he searched, and for his dedication, he had been justly awarded by getting within touching distance of his target -- or so he believed, anyway. 

  Hot on the heels of a fresh clue, his search had brought him to the doormat of a particular address. Yelling aloud all sorts of obscene threats outside the premises, without further delay, the unworthy one had kicked down the front door and raced towards the stairs, scaling it two steps at a time, his crimson cloak fluttering behind him in his rush. Hooking around the top of the landing, he picking a door at random, then held his battle axe jarnbjorn with both hands and swung for the fences, causing wood to crack and splinter apart the very moment the blade bit into something solid.  

  Generating a storm of sound with such rash actions, the blond, without waiting, fought his way through the remains of the door, inviting himself into the apartment of the accused. Seeking a swift resolution, he projected his booming voice outwards, roaring; “Show thyself, wizard! Before I reduce thine unholy abode to rubble!”

[fryordie]

@worldsfinestspy | starter call

Long haired and scraggly in appearance, few would be able to differentiate the unworthy one from a mortal down on their luck. And though he had been cursed in some ways, stripped of name and mighty hammer, what remained of the Odinson grew self-serving in ways that previously saw him act humane. No longer was he as eager to offer aid when asked, nor was he at all impressed to have been discovered, hunkered down in a quiet slice of abandoned suburbia, keeping far from any heroics or, indeed, Avengers activity.

And it is the shunning of the latter, he suspects, to be the reason for why he is joined by another, right now. A old friend, for whom he knows he should graciously receive, but makes no effort to do so. 

For he is in no mind to entertain guests.

“Why bother coming here? Is there a matter so pressing that you require the assistance of a worthless fool like me?”

[fryordie]

@astrahero  | starter call 

Acquiring a plethora of stares from observing onlookers, the unworthy one strides forward without pause, determined to collect his axe from where it had landed, edge sunken several inches deep into the hull of a mechanical foe. Or at least he had regarded the mechanised creation as such, upon waking up in this strange place.

Unable to recall how he’d gotten here, a world with the same deceptively blue sky as that of his beloved Midgard, a brief glance at the local inhabitants -- who began to amass in their droves following his disruptive actions -- tells him he is not on Earth. In any likelihood, he is not even located in the same galaxy as that rocky realm of water.

Just his luck.

Retrieving Jarnbjorn from the robot’s side, sparks of electricity leaping from the gaping hole left behind, the blond keeps his weapon by his side as he turns around to finally address his audience; “What is the name of this planet?” Doing away with basic manners, his tone is blunt, and to the point. He had no desire to waste time on frivolous phrase-- and would not idly tolerate those equipped with a glib tongue.

[fryordie]

@passiondreamt [for parker] | starter call

Blue hues appraise the masked vigilante carefully, taking measure of both his costumed appearance as well as his words. What he stressed had made sound sense-- to down arms and not cause an already tentative situation boil over into something beyond control. Only, there was but one, small problem.        The Odinson simply did not care about the scene that, through his actions, he was bound to make worse if left uncheck.

“Tell me, Man of Spiders,” he starts, the male’s moniker coming to mind with a few seconds of thought. “Why should I refrain from acting, when these mortals are so quick to cower in my presence.” An effect achieved by his brandishing of axe as well as thrown together, scraggly garb; no more a prince of Asgard than he was a god of storms and lightning.

[fryordie]

@polaerity | starter call

“It appears that you seek the aid of another.” Each word is drawn out with resigned expressions, mirroring that of a god at odds with himself for not being able to provide this stranger with the help they sought. Midgard had its new defender, that woman whose identity yet eluded him. Some day he vowed to uncover who it was that took his place as the defender of the ten realms, but for the present time, he was merely a brute who wielded a blessed axe.      “I can no longer fly, much less summon lightning. I would be more of a burden than an asset if I were to join you on your current quest.”

[fryordie]

@corruptedspider | starter call

He had no need for the aid of preternatural senses to know that he had acquired a tail, an inquisitive party that, for reasons yet known to him, had deigned to waste an hour or more of their ever-fading life to follow him around. Tiring quickly of such behaviour, after walking onward with the gaze of another cast upon him, the unworthy thunder god soon draws to a halt and whirls a full 180 degrees, red cape fluttering in the act as left, metallic hand is seen to firmly grip the handle of a rather large axe.

“Are you so lacking in other interests that you’d follow me by cover of shadow, creature?” He declares, caring not to treat his mortal pursuer with any amount of warranted dignity. Had times been better, he’d had done no less than route his follower from hiding himself, but as things currently stood, Odinson was reduced to shouting at nothing -- a reality that served to sour his mood the longer he spoke without receiving a response. “Face me, at once!”

[fryordie]

@talkstotwigs | starter call

Soft chords and scattered snatchings of conversation fill the air with the sort of ambience befitting of a public house. A frequent customer of such places, be they nestled in the heart of a rain-swept, sprawling city or tucked away in the remotest, snow covered reaches in a realm home to giants, the Odinson was content to weather all conditions without complaint, in exchange for the promise of a full tankard of mead, striking up conversation wherever he went.

On this occasion, his latest quest for a drink saw him tour familiar pastures, stopping by a tavern he believed to be popular with the local mortals that lived nearby. Thankfully, at the hour of his visit, the building was scarcely occupied, allowing the blond thunderer to take up a seat by the bar and make his request, though with some confusion on the barkeeper’s part. 

Content to sit and stay a while, the Odinson had let the hourly clock complete a few rotations of his minute hand before he thought to rouse himself and move on, belly sufficiently filled with a... lacklustre vintage of beer he had not asked for the name of, when it escaped him to pay attention to his surroundings, which resulted in a collision of sorts. Realising that as he rose to stand, he’d manage to bump against what he thought to be a fellow patron, Odinson immediately spun on heel, which was no small feat for a man of his statue, letting a gush of apologies flow forth from his mouth;

“Ah! Pardon me, kind stranger! I did not mean to collide with you.” Which was his polite way of seeking forgiveness for not having bowled her over with his careless turn in degrees. This blunder would serve to remind him to pay better attention to his surroundings. Still, perhaps whether due to the amount of alcohol in his system -- it was -- or rather he was simply feeling generous, the blond immediately made a show of clearing space, then used both arms to gesture to the stool he had previously vacated. 

“Should you need to settle thyself, do allow me to offer you my seat.”

[fryordie]

@anxchronism | starter call

Seldom seen before being heard first, the blond who would once pride himself on being a Viking God was currently squatted elbows deep behind a table packed with empty glasses and spilled beer, laughing and cheering as he linked arms with his fellow patron. Hardly recognisable these days with a mane of matted hair and generally unkempt appearance, the Odinson made a sporting show of draining his half-full tankard in one go, smiling soon afterwards as he wiped the foam from his lips, having, for all accounts, an enjoyable time, in full view of the other patrons.

Many of which took umbrage with his riotous carrying-ons -- with one soul plucking up the courage to approach his table. Thinking this stranger’s intent to fall on the joy-killing side -- for enough time had elapsed to make the aspect a possibility, the blond allowed a slight frown to twist his mouth, zapping his visage of all joyfulness as he met the gaze of this brave mortal with a stony glare, the point of his metallic elbow balanced precariously on the table set before him.

“What is it, boy? You look as though you have something say, so out with it.” 

[fryordie]

"You. Me. Eating contest. It's on." [From kio uwu]

Accustomed to receiving challenges that pertained to tests of strength, seldom had he been dared to partake in a contest quite like this. At the invitation to dine in excess, the Odinson chuckles heartily, an amused look which swept over his features hinting at his answer in advance.

“Aye, that it is! I am, as they say, ‘ready when you are?’”

An uru hand was then extended to the bounty hunter, intending to accept her challenge by shaking on it. He was looking forward to participating in this event.