sixthiterationlogs | thunder cracks and lightning strikes

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thunder cracks and lightning strikes

WHO: Thor Odinson
WHERE: The Fountain, the village road
WHEN: 10 September
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open

Battle was something that sung to him. Thor knew that as a king, he should want to see his people in peace and prosperity and, all told, he did but there was something about battle that drove him to be his best. He loved to fight, to champion those who needed to be championed and he loved to put down tyranny whenever he could. It was this desire that led him to continue to lend his aid to the Avengers and it was this desire that had brought him to Sokovia to begin with.

He'd fought alongside Rogers and Stark, had lent the strength of his hammer to Romanoff and Barton. There was little he wouldn't do for his comrades at arms and even less he wouldn't do in defense of someone helpless, of a city on the brink of peril. He would fight until there was no more strength in his body and, even then, he wouldn't be broken. He wouldn't allow death and tyranny to plague the people of Midgard or any of the other realms so long as he still drew breath.

So how was it, exactly, that he'd wound up in this place? The world had begun to spun after taking a particularly-painful blow and when Thor could open his eyes again, he was in a rapidly-draining pool. He clawed himself upward, scrabbling against the lip of stone, and hauled himself to the ground only to find that it, too, was quaking. An earthquake. How could it be? What did this herald? Long ago, the people of Midgard had read much into such natural phenomena and had thought them portents of something dangerous; Thor knew them to be only the natural shifts and pulls of the earth but he hadn't been in anything as violent as this in a long, long while.

He launched himself to his feet, thinking little about the loss of his armor or Mjolnir and ran away from the trees in hopes that he wouldn't be struck. It would take a great deal to fell him, yes, but he didn't want to find himself compromised in a place that was unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous. Running brought him along to a village, of sorts, though it did not look like anything Midgard or Asgard had to offer. The ground had stopped quaking for a moment and he kept his steps cautious; would it begin again?

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, voice loud and far beyond being polite. He had been in the heat of a great battle, had been needed alongside the rest of his team. Here, he was no use to anyone. What if someone needed him? What if his hammer struck the final blow and now, with him out of sight, the battle was lost?

"It had better not involve Loki," he muttered, somewhat softer. If his brother had a hand in this, there would be hell to pay.

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He looks like something out of one of the books she'd possessed as a child of the great Vikings of old. Peggy had begged Michael to read them to her, eager to soak up stories of great conquerors as much as she could. Presented, now, and staring at the large man in front of her, she doesn't have words for a brief moment. The earthquake has left her without a home and she's worn, now she's staring up at a man nearly twice her size and it's quite the sight.

"If it's meaning you're after," Peggy manages when she composes herself enough to be able to reply, "then I don't know that today is a good day for it. Everyone's a little out of sorts, what with losing homes and being subjected to injury and all," she goes on, a touch of the sharpness returning with her sense.

The earthquake had really done a number on the village, probably in more ways than just physical damage too. Sam's house was certainly not going to be suitable for living in any more. He'd already assessed that much from his talk with Cougar. He wasn't going to just sit around sulking though, because what good was that going to do?

Sam was just mustering up the will to move on from his broken house when he heard shouting. He'd picked this house because of its proximity to the fountain and now, it seemed, that was paying off again because he was in ear shot of the shouting voice. It was familiar, though he couldn't say why. However, that fact alone prompted him to want to go investigate.

Sam tossed his wet socks aside and pulled on a pair of dry ones he'd rescued from his house, along with his boots, before heading out to investigate. It didn't take long to run across a towering, muscled blond man in black scrubs. The scrubs threw him off for a moment and made Sam pause and squint. That was...oh hell...it was him, wasn't it?

"Thor? You're Thor, right?"

"I do not mean to bring more strife," Thor said, somewhat gently. He could tell that the quake had damaged some of the homes in this village and something like that was much more important than his comfort or his questions. He should lend his aid, if he could, and leave his questions for later.

"I came through what seemed to be a fountain gone dry. It must be some portal between the worlds, some place where the boundaries between the realms has grown thin. Did the same happen to you, my lady?"

"And you are Sam Wilson," Thor said, his face cracking into a broad smile. He had only met him once, in passing, but it was enough to know that this was a man worth knowing. He'd fought the same battles on the same side as he and Thor had nothing but respect for that.

"How is it that we have come to be in this place? I came up through a fountain, cracked and drained. Is it some sort of way between the realms? Some place where travel is possible without the Bifrost?"

Oh good. So he hadn't gotten the wrong giant blond dude. That was partly reassuring. Although it wasn't so reassuring that whoever was controlling this place could also get their hands on someone like Thor. The Avengers and the US Government couldn't even keep tabs on Thor and yet here he was just waltzing into town in the same black scrubs as everyone else. What did that say about the technology or magic or whatever the hell powered this place? Sam shuddered to think, but it would prove Frank wrong that only the less powerful Avengers were getting captured.

Now wasn't the time for that though. Under normal circumstances Sam would have been pretty thrilled to see the guy that claimed to be a god--but in this place it was less of a thrill.

"That is a very good question, that I wish I had the answer to..." Sam began, but then stopped, giving Thor a funny look, "Wait...the fountain didn't have water in it? That's not right." Was it the earthquake? Now what did THAT mean? Could people still arrive without there being water in it? Ugh, why did this place always cause more questions to be asked than it ever answered.

"The water seemed to be receding as I ascended. I had to pull myself out from it," Thor explained. It had been a difficult task, though not impossible, and he hadn't been back to examine it since then. Had the fountain refilled? Was it still empty? Those were questions that would need to be addressed.

For now, he decided he would focus on what could be answered immediately. "Tell me, what is this place? Is it some prison world designed by Loki or one of his compatriots? Has anyone revealed their hand?"

"No, you're not," Peggy says, trying to curb her shortness. It's not his fault that this place practically upended itself. Besides, she's being extremely rude just because she's tired and potentially homeless, though if ever there were a good reason to be in a mood, she thinks that today is it.

"Yes, I did, but when I came through, it was in the process of trying to drown me but for my swim to the top," Peggy clarifies. "Before I was out, someone else was below me. Traffic was quite bad that day," she jokes.

"There was no other when I came up," Thor said. It was strange that there were many on the day she arrived but only he had come up during his arrival. It didn't make sense, didn't fit with the logic he'd been presented up until this point. Hmm.

"I am Thor, son of Odin. Who are you, my lady, so I might have a name to address you by? I don't want to be rude."

He supposed, given the nature of the day thus far, his own rudeness wasn't much to apologize for but he still wanted to make the gesture. He was unsure which realm this place was a part of, if any, and did not want to make enemies if he could help it.

Emma isn't scared of anything under normal circumstances, but looking into the face of an adonis had even Emma's insides quaking. It could have been the actual earthquake she was dealing with, but she thought that maybe she was feeling phantom aftershocks, given how much damage there was to her, no their home.

That was another thing she would have to get to get used to, the fact that she was part of an us.

"Who's Loki?" Emma asked, straightening her shoulders some.

She stares up at him, unsure that she'd really heard that right. Speaking of Vikings and gods, all of a sudden she's standing here in front of Thor, son of Odin. Which is something that she might not have believed except for the fact that this place has been throwing the impossible at her for what seems like since the moment she arrived. "I'm Peggy Carter," she replies, after a too-long moment of her staring at the bulk of his arms.

His physique is truly reminiscent of the gods in the storybooks she'd read as a child. If nothing else, this seems to actually be a god standing in front of her. "You're really Thor?" she clarifies. "God of thunder, Thor?"

"Loki is my brother," Thor said, letting out a noise something between a sigh and a laugh. There was no real other way to describe Loki, as it was, and he hoped his brother did not have a hand in any of this. So far as he knew, Loki was dead, but that did not mean this plan hadn't been executed well in advance of his demise.

"I fear this is just the sort of trickery he likes to engage in, especially where I am concerned."

"Some on Midgard think of me as a god," Thor said, giving her a quick flash of a smile. "Though I am merely different from a human, that is all. I can still bleed, I can still be wounded. I am no immortal."

Merely long-lived, long-lived enough to be seen as a god by those with shorter lifespans.

"It is good to meet you, Peggy Carter."

Honestly Sam doesn't know what it means. They'd just have to wait and see if more people arrived even with the water being drained. Actually, that gives him an idea--but he'd have to flesh it out a bit first. Now isn't the time to suggest it.

"We don't really have a name for it--I think most of us just refer to it as the village. It didn't exactly come with a welcome sign when we arrived," Sam admits. He crosses his arms, thoughtful, "Doubt Loki is involved--it isn't exactly just us Avengers showing up and there haven't been any signs or loud proclamations about who is involved. We honestly have no idea who is behind this." The fact that there had been no loud maniacal gloating was probably a good sign that Loki wasn't involved, from what Sam knew of him he figured the guy would be all about rubbing it in their collective faces.

He's certainly more well-mannered than most of the men she's used to dealing with, which is a nice change of things. Midgard, that must mean Earth, and yes, he does seem very godly. She's not that curious as to prick him and force him to bleed, but only because her curiosity isn't running that over abundantly at this very moment.

"How are you different?" she asks instead, rather than asking a near stranger whether she could test his bleeding theory.

Natasha doesn't understand what's happening until it's already happened. The ground under her feet buckles, and she stumbles, her stomach dropping out from under her as her feet come up. She hits the ground hard, knocks her head on the road and sees stars for a moment before her eyes open back up. It's not the pain in her head that keeps her from moving (although it's a portion of it); the ground is rolling underneath her, and even if she could get to her feet, Natasha is pretty sure that she wouldn't be there for long.

She isn't sure how long it lasts. Seconds, maybe, not more than minutes. She waits when it ends before she pushes herself to her feet, stumbling a little, dizzy from the blow to her head, and she can already feel the bruise and knot forming on her temple. She reaches up, touches it. It's tender, but there's no blood, a small blessing in a place like this, and she stares in the direction of the houses. She'd heard the crack and bending of wood, and already she can see there's damage to some of them—

But her attention is grabbed by the roar from just behind her, and Natasha turns sharply, immediately regretting the action when the world spins. But she knows that voice. And he is supposed to be in Asgard.

"Thor?"

"Loki does like to have his work recognized," Thor agreed. He laughed, a tight, strangled sound, and squared his shoulders a bit. He would have to do more investigation into this place, certainly, but the thought that Loki wasn't involved was both a blessing and a curse. Loki, at least, was the devil he knew.

"How many others are here? You said there were those who aren't part of the Avengers who have been brought to this place?"

"Those of us from Asgard live much longer lives than humans," Thor explained. "I have been alive for over a thousand years and I am in my prime. We have strength that is greater than that of humans, as well, and the ability to do things that those on Midgard cannot. Does that explain it at all?"

Thor had explained as much before to Jane Foster and her friends but it felt different here, somehow. He didn't quite feel so different as he normally did.

He was supposed to be in Asgard. There were things to attend to, realms to set right, and he was meant to be doing that very thing and not concerning himself with Midgard at the moment. And, yet, Thor found himself here in this place with Natasha; was it Midgard? Had he somehow traveled without the help of the Bifrost?

"Natasha? How is it that you've come to be here?" Or, possibly, that he'd come to be here on Midgard yet again. Thor wasn't certain which way it went, to be honest, and had concerns about not recalling the exact mechanism of his travel to this place.

"You look quite good for a thousand," Peggy remarks in turn, seeing as she's not even thirty and she's starting to feel aches in her knees and her whole body that she's sure will only get worse as time goes on. One thousand? No, that's certainly not something that she can even imagine, though she thinks that perhaps, all these aliens from other planets are going to give her a new appreciation for age.

"Well, you certainly don't look like you're much different apart from double the size of one of us," she says. "Can you show me something?" she suggests.

"There is something to be said about the beauty and efficiency of a petite woman," Thor said. This woman reminded him, even if it was only in a superficial manner, of Jane Foster. She too had been petite with dark hair and the thought of her sparked a twinge in his chest; no, it would do him no good to miss her.

"What can I do for you?"

Sam was a little unnerved by the laugh. He doesn't know Thor as well as some of the other Avengers, having only met him at a party and having joined shortly after Thor had departed for parts unknown. But, from what he knew of the god and his half-brother, it would certainly be better to have Loki than the current situation.

He had to do a quick count in his head, though he couldn't be sure of the accuracy of the numbers, "Around 30, maybe? People arrive irregularly and some people have vanished just like they've come."

It was show time. Shite, meet fan.

The initial shock of the earthquake had been bad, but not as bad as it could've been on a scale of "minor collateral damage" to "devastation." On the plus side, the inn was still standing, if a little bumped and bruised, much like Jess' shoulder, which was now sporting a delightfully eggplant purple bruise under his scrub top.

He'd been headed downstairs in the inn when the heaving and roiling had started; he'd been pitched off the staircase as unceremoniously as a swatted fly, the instinct to tuck and roll the only thing that kept him from landing straight on his neck. It could've been worse for him, too.

He was pushing what remained of his luck by leaving the inn after checking on the others, playing chicken with potential aftershocks, but Jess wasn't thinking about that, just that he needed to see the damage. Poised in the street outside, brushing dust from his tousled hair and clothes, Jess' answer was deceptively easygoing. "Earthquake," was the calm, one-word explanation.

She can't help her amused look, a glimmer of mischief lurking in her eyes as a thought crosses her mind and she decides that it's absolutely the best way to determine his otherworldly skills, including strength. "Could you pick me up over your head? My whole body," she clarifies, because even she could likely hoist someone up in the air for a few moments.

Her whole body up in the air for an unspecified period of time, though? Well, that would be quite the show in determining that he does have skills above and beyond normal humans might.

"So we do not know the hows or whys of our selection or the manner in which we have been brought here? That seems to give me more questions rather than any answers."

The thought of it was maddening. At least with Loki's tricks, there was an identifiable source for his anger. This was something nebulous and unknown, something he couldn't reach out and touch and exact vengeance upon. It was not something that Thor did well with, the ephemeral, and he tried not to let that show.

"How many have vanished? How did they vanish? Did they leave a trace behind?"

That was something of an obvious and blunt response, yes, but Thor was an obvious and blunt man. He appreciated the candor even if he didn't need quite that much of it and he barked out a short, sharp laugh as he tried to get his bearings beneath him. This place was not one that he recognized, at all, and he would need more information before pressing forward.

"I had gathered as much," he said, managing a small smile. "I simply do not know why the ground is shaking, or was, and would like to know what I've gotten myself into. Do you know what this place is?"

The boy appeared young, by his standards, but Thor knew well that looks could be deceiving. The age of those on Midgard tended to blur for him considering his own long-lived race and he hesitated to assign an age to him, even mentally.

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thunder cracks and lightning strikes

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