Interlude: Walls of Change

Venari (Goddess of the Hunt)

After meticulously crafting Midgard, or as Violet would call it Earth, the realm of humanity. Venari would argue that during this time, it was a golden age where humanity flourished. The divine beings deliberated upon creating a celestial haven for themselves: Asgard. Venari was never one to want cities or palaces. No, she was the Goddess of the Hunt, she wanted to be out in the worlds. She wanted to feel alive, stalking her prey. However, the other gods wanted to have a heavenly home to rule from. Little did they know that this would ignite a conflict in the old gods. Spark a war spanning dimensions, such as Mors, where Violet now resided.

Venari never gave in to weakness, even now she was fighting, she was on the trail of a gold dragon. But the others, like her brothers Thor and Loki, had their discerning gaze settled upon a majestic mountain, a space in the Void between Earth and Mors. The mountain top was crowned with a verdant meadow at its zenith, as the ideal site for the grand citadel. With unwavering resolve, the other gods embarked on the monumental task of fashioning their new dwelling, fortified with unparalleled strength and towering walls that would stand as a testament to their power and sovereignty for eternity.

Venari wasn’t there that day but she heard the tale after the fact.

Over ales with her brother, Baldr, he set the stage. His mug of ale, foaming at the top, jiggled back and forth as he talked.

A figure cloaked in shadows appeared upon the hallowed grounds of the Mountain of the Gods. It caught the attention of Odin.

Venari nodded along, loving a good story. She was currently drinking her beverage out of the skull of a giant buck she hunted earlier that day. She always loved stories about Odin, her father.

Baldr continued the tale. “With an air of authority, Odin approached the enigmatic Stranger, his one-eyed gaze couldn’t pierce through the veil of secrecy that surrounded the visitor.”

“Shut your mouth, Baldr. Nothing can hide from my father.”

“Are you going to let me continue or are you going to bother me, some more?”

The Huntress waved him on.

The God of Goodness continued the tale, happy to have at least one person listening to him.

Odin asked the man, or shadow, “What business brings you to the realm of Asgard?” His voice carries the weight of his almighty authority.”

The Stranger, undaunted by the presence of the Allfather, met Odin's gaze with an unwavering resolve. "I am aware of the grand design unfolding upon this mountain," the Stranger replied with bold confidence. "You seek to raise a kingdom here, but it is not a palace that you require. Instead, I offer you walls, a shield, of unparalleled strength and fortitude. And this protection will be impervious to the passage of time and the onslaught of enemies. Allow me to construct the mighty defence that shall safeguard your divine home."

The Allfather looked the man up and down at the statement.

Odin, ever the astute tactician, deliberated upon the Stranger's proposition.

"And how long do you claim this task will take?" he asked, his tone betraying a hint of skepticism.”

Baldr tried to do his best shadow figure voice but was distracted while taking another drink.

“Either drink or tell the story,” The Goddess of the Hunt complained. “I have to get back to work soon, I have events unfolding on Mors that I don’t want to miss.”

Baldr said, "A year's time, O’ Odin, came the resolute response from the Stranger, his voice carrying an aura of certainty.”

Odin's keen intellect immediately recognized the strategic advantage of such an impregnable barrier. With the construction of this formidable shield wall, the gods would be liberated from the ceaseless burden of defending Asgard against the relentless assaults of the other gods in the void.

With a decisive nod, Odin agreed to the Stranger's proposal. The dark Stranger solemnly vowed to erect the towering ramparts of Asgard within the appointed year.

Baldr became quiet for a moment, his voice barely a whisper, and spoke the next words that sent a shiver up Venari’s spine. “Odin swore a solemn oath. Should the Stranger fulfill his promise and complete the construction of the celestial wall within the year, he would bestow upon him any boon his heart desired.”

“Any?”

Baldr nodded and continued.

However, even as the agreement was sealed with the weight of divine oaths, a shadow of doubt loomed over Odin. For in his eagerness to secure the safety of Asgard, Odin had unwittingly set in motion a chain of events whose consequences would reverberate throughout the annals of myth and legend.

On the dawn of the following day, as the golden rays of sunlight bathed the Mountain of Asgard in ethereal hues, the Stranger returned. Accompanied only by a sleek, powerful steed whose sinewy muscles rippled beneath its coat, the Stranger stood before the assembled gods, a silent testament to his singular purpose.

Others from around the tavern in Asgard began to circle Baldr as he told the story. This event was one of only a few in which a tavern full of Viking warriors and gods would become silent. Silent except for the one storyteller.

With a curious mix of anticipation and skepticism, Odin observed as the Stranger's humanoid horse companion stepped forward, its demeanour exuding an aura of quiet confidence. Yet, to the astonishment of all who beheld the scene, it was not mere brute strength that the horse possessed, but an otherworldly intelligence and dexterity that defied mortal comprehension.

As the day unfolded into the night and the stars danced their celestial ballet overhead, the horse tirelessly laboured alongside the Stranger, each movement a testament to the harmonious bond between man and beast. With precision and grace, it hoisted massive blocks of stone into place, seamlessly interlocking them with mortar, its efforts eclipsing even those of its inhuman counterpart.

Venari asked, “Who is this Stranger?”

“You know him,” Baldr said.

With each passing day, the walls of Asgard rose higher and stronger. Yet, amidst the awe-inspiring spectacle unfolding before their eyes, the gods found themselves consumed by a nagging question: what boon would the Stranger claim in exchange for his unparalleled feat of craftsmanship?

Whispers of speculation echoed through the divine streets of Asgard as the city neared its completion, each deity harbouring their conjectures regarding the Stranger's intentions. It was Odin, the ever-wise Allfather, who resolved to unravel the mystery shrouding the enigmatic figure.

“Was it Zeus, he is always trying to one-up Father,” someone yelled from within the crowd.

Baldr and Venari just rolled their eyes as the story continued, “Thus, under the cloak of twilight, Odin ventured forth to seek an audience with the Stranger.“

With a voice as commanding as thunder echoing across the heavens, Odin addressed the Stranger, his words laden with a palpable curiosity tinged with apprehension. "Your craftsmanship indeed exceeded all expectations," Odin conceded, his voice carrying the weight of acknowledgment. "By the first day of Summer, this wall will undoubtedly stand as a testament to your unparalleled skill. Yet, what reward do you seek for such a monumental achievement? Speak, and we shall prepare accordingly."

With a measured pause, the Stranger lowered his tools and removed his hood. His gaze was unwavering as his horse companion continued its tireless labour. "O Father of the Gods," the Old Man began, his tone resonating with a quiet confidence. "I ask not for riches nor earthly treasures. Merely the Sun, the Moon, and Freyja, the embodiment of beauty and fertility, to grace my side as my wife."

Venari, the first time learning of this, was shocked. “He made a deal with one of the old gods?”

Baldr nodded and finished his drink, only to have another one pour for him.

A stunned silence fell upon the assembly as Odin's visage darkened with righteous indignation. The audacity of the Blind One’s demand struck at the very heart of divine sensibility, stirring a tempest of fury within the Allfather's heart. Such a price, the eldritch horror demanded was nothing short of blasphemous, an affront to the sanctity of the cosmos.

“That is right, the old gods are always throwing off the balance,” Venari screamed into her ale, but the story wasn’t finished.

“Odin refused to entertain the notion of surrendering the most precious treasures, he turned away, his resolve unyielding.”

“This will lead to war,” someone asked.

“Keep telling the story,” another yelled.

Baldr the good, nodded. “Gathering the council of the gods, he recounted the Stranger's brazen request. Then explained that he was the Blind One from the eldritch realm. This ignited a chorus of gasps and exclamations of dismay.”

"Without the Sun and Moon, the delicate balance of existence will falter," cried one deity, the gravity of the situation dawning upon them all.

Venari said, "And to relinquish Freyja, the guardian of beauty and life, is to consign Asgard to darkness and desolation."

“Don’t worry, the story isn’t over,” Baldr said, “In unanimous accord, the assembly declared their refusal to acquiesce to the Old Man’s exorbitant demands. Better to leave the wall unfinished than to barter away the very essence of creation itself.”

Yet, amidst the collective despair, a mischievous glint sparked in the eyes of Loki, the cunning trickster god, as a plan began to form within the labyrinthine recesses of his mind. With a sly grin, he stepped forward, his presence a harbinger of unforeseen twists and turns yet to unfold.

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“Let the Stranger proceed with his task," Loki's voice resonated with an insidious undertone, his sly smile betraying the machinations of a mind ever plotting. "I shall orchestrate the unravelling of this bargain."

With a flicker of mischief in his eyes, he proposed a cunning plan to deceive the master builder.

The gods hesitated, their apprehension palpable. Loki, the unpredictable agent of chaos, was as capricious as he was cunning, his schemes often leading to unforeseen consequences. In the face of mounting desperation, they begrudgingly placed their trust in his guile, recognizing that desperate times called for desperate measures.

Returning to the Old Man, Odin's facial expression was veiled in a cloak of dark resolve.

"Should the final stone remain absent upon the first day of Summer, know this," his voice carried a foreboding weight, "neither the Sun, nor the Moon, nor the fair Freyja shall be yours." The threat hung heavy in the air, a testament to the gravity of the situation.”

But the Stranger, undeterred by the dire pronouncement, met Odin's gaze with a steely resolve. "Your perception of fairness differs from mine, O’ Odin," he retorted, his voice carrying a chilling edge. "You gods wield power beyond measure, yet it is I who seek to restore balance to the scales of existence."

The eldritch horror’s words echoed through Earth and Mors, a realization settled upon Odin's mind like a shroud of death. Beneath the veneer of humanity lurked the cunning guise of a monster, his true nature unshakeable.

With a heavy heart, Odin understood the depths of his folly. The Blind One was not merely a master builder, but a harbinger of chaos, poised to shatter the fragile equilibrium of the cosmos. And as the shadows lengthened across the realm of the Norse gods, the stage was set for a confrontation that would determine the fate of Asgard itself.

“If not all reality,” Venari whispered, “I vow to stop the horror.”

But Baldr didn’t stop telling his story.

With each passing day, the horror and his tireless humanoid horse laboured relentlessly. Their efforts drive the monumental wall of Asgard ever higher into the heavens. As dusk descended upon the mountain, the old god would retire to his slumber, leaving his equine ally to toil through the night with unwavering determination. With sinewy muscles rippling beneath its sleek coat, the horseman would haul massive stones and deftly position them with its powerful hands, each movement a testament to its indomitable strength and unwavering loyalty to its master.

As the towering edifice of stone ascended toward the heavens, a sense of foreboding gripped the hearts of the gods within Asgard. With each passing day, their apprehension deepened, for the completion of the wall loomed ever closer, bringing with it the spectre of the monster’s demands.

But amidst the growing despair, Loki, the wily trickster god, remained resolute in his assurances to his fellow deities. "Fear not," he would proclaim, his voice dripping with a honeyed charm that belied the gravity of the situation. "I shall find a way to thwart the Old One's ambitions and safeguard the treasures of Asgard from his grasp."

As the fateful day drew near, tension hung thick in the air like a suffocating shroud. Three days before the onset of Summer, with the wall nearing completion save for the gateway, the Blind One issued his final command to his faithful servant. With a weary but determined resolve, the horseman obediently hauled a hefty block of stone to the gateway, poised to seal the final breach in the wall's formidable barrier come dawn.

With a triumphant grin upon his lips, the Blind One surrendered to the embrace of sleep, his dreams awash with visions of victory and the impending fulfillment of his desires. For in his mind's eye, he beheld a future where the gods would be powerless to deny him his rightful prize, and the realm of Asgard would tremble beneath the weight of his triumphant conquest.

While the horror slumbered the horseman remained steadfast in his duty, his sinewy frame bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight. With every step, his muscles flexed beneath his glistening hide, the weight of his burden showing his unwavering resolve.

Amid his labour, a sudden interruption pierced the silence of the night. The humanoid horse’s ears pricked up as he beheld a sight that filled his heart with curiosity and wonder: a graceful mare. Her form illuminated by the soft luminescence of the moon, galloping towards him with an air of playful mischief.”

"Beast, animal, slave" the little half-horse and half-human chimed in a singsong voice as she danced past him, her movements as fluid as the gentle breeze that caressed the meadow.

Startled by the unexpected encounter, the worker paused, his gaze following the mare's graceful stride. "Hey!" he called out after her, his voice tinged with a mixture of indignation and intrigue. "Why do you call me that?"

The little mare, her laughter like the tinkling of distant bells, trotted back towards him with a playful twinkle in her eye. "Because you toil ceaselessly for your master," she explained, her voice carrying a note of sympathy. "He binds you to his service, denying you the joys of freedom and play. Tell me, would you dare to abandon your task and join me in a moment of revelry?"

The horseman’s brow furrowed in contemplation, torn between his sense of duty and the allure of the mare's enchanting invitation. "Who's to say I wouldn't?" he retorted, a spark of defiance igniting within his soul.

A mischievous glint danced in the little mare's eyes as she tossed her mane with a graceful flourish. "I know you won't," she teased, her voice carrying a challenge. With a playful kick of her heels, she darted away across the moonlit meadow, leaving the man to ponder the tantalizing possibility of breaking free from the shackles of servitude and embracing the freedom that beckoned to him with each passing moment.

In truth, the weight of ceaseless labour had worn down the servant’s spirit, leaving him yearning for respite from the unyielding demands of his master. With a determined resolve simmering beneath his exhaustion, he made a decision. It was time to reclaim his autonomy, if only for a fleeting moment of liberation.

Thus, with a defiant flick of his mane, the horseman abandoned the burdensome stone far from the unfinished gateway, his hooves pounding against the earth as he turned to pursue the elusive mare whose beckoning call promised a reprieve from his toil. There she stood, a vision of grace and freedom at the edge of the moonlit meadow, her tail flicking with playful allure.

With a renewed vigour coursing through his veins, he cast aside the constraints of duty and obligation, his heart racing with anticipation as he embarked upon a journey into the unknown. Into her unknown. With each bounding stride, he closed the distance between himself and the mare, her mischievous glances igniting a spark of excitement within his soul.

Together, they traversed the verdant expanse of the meadow, the moon casting its silvery glow upon their path as they descended the towering mountainside. The night air enveloped them in its embrace, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of grass and flowers that danced upon the breeze. And as the servant surrendered himself to the exhilarating rush of freedom, he revelled in the sheer joy of liberation, his heart soaring amidst the vast expanse of the untamed wilderness.

As the first blush of dawn painted the horizon with hues of rose and gold, casting a radiant glow upon the dew-kissed grass, the duo approached a cavern nestled within the rugged mountainside. With a graceful fluidity, they entered the hidden sanctuary, their hooves echoing softly against the cavern walls as they ventured deeper into its labyrinthine depths.

Within the confines of the cavern's secret world, the little mare regaled the horseman with tales woven from the fabric of legend and lore, her melodious voice weaving a tapestry of wonder and enchantment. Together, they wandered amidst the ancient stalactites and stalagmites, their hearts alight with the magic of the stories that unfolded around them.

In a secluded grove bathed in dappled sunlight filtering through the cavern's mouth, the two horses found solace and companionship, their playful antics echoing amidst the tranquil serenity of their newfound haven. Lost in the blissful abandon of their revelry, they surrendered themselves to the joy of the moment, cares and obligations a distant memory in the embrace of passion.

Little did they know, their fleeting dalliance would bear fruit in the months to come, as the little mare would give birth to a magnificent foal which would be the foundation for future humanoid races in Mors.

“Blowing off work. Sounds like my kind of guy,” a Viking warrior cheered as Baldr finished his statement.

“Get on with it,” Venari said. Baldr nodded and continued with his tale.

Meanwhile, high on the mountainside's towering peaks, the ancient god's brow furrowed in perplexity as he studied the unfinished wall. He expected to discover the final stone in its proper location but found only nothingness and stillness. With rising concern, he screamed out for his trusty minion, but the servant’s booming absence echoed back to him, mocking his fruitless search.

Desperate to find his missing partner, the Blind One combed the mountainside far and wide, his thunderous footsteps shaking the earth beneath him. Despite his tireless attempts, the servant's whereabouts remained unknown as the Old One's time on the planet faded to a mere shadow.

As bright shafts of sunlight streamed through the gaping maw of the incomplete gateway, the gods saw a glimmer of hope amidst the looming shadows of doubt. "If the wall remains incomplete by nightfall," they thundered, "Sol and Mani shall remain safe from the clutches of the Old God, and Freyja shall remain ensconced within the sanctuary of our divine realm."

However, as the sands of time continued their relentless march toward the inevitable dusk, the celestial assembly's hearts were heavy. The sun dropped lower and lower on the horizon with each passing instant, its golden beams becoming less intense as the oncoming spectre of nightfall cast a gloom over the land.

The Blind One’s face contorted in a mask of rage and anger, faced the enormous task. Without his loyal minion, he stood before the high wall, snarling his teeth, his enormous strength rendered ineffective in the absence of the minion's assistance.

As twilight fell like a cloud over the land of the gods. Odin the Allfather addressed the enraged Shadow with barely hidden joy. "Your labour remains unfinished, Stranger," he declared, his voice ringing with satisfaction. "Your bargain is now null and void."

Everyone in the tavern let out a deep breath that seemed to be held for a lifetime.

Baldr raised a hand and said, “The story isn’t finished, yet.”

As a collective whole, they all paused and listened to the tale.

“Enraged by the betrayal of his hopes and dreams, the Old One’s fury erupted like a tempest. His anguished cries echoed amidst the solemn silence of twilight. “

"I have forged a wall of unparalleled strength," he bellowed, his voice reverberating with a primal intensity. "Yet, my hands remain poised to unleash destruction upon your precious palaces!"

With a thunderous roar, the Old One surged forth, his fists poised to wreak havoc upon the divine sanctuaries that stood as a testament to the gods' power and sovereignty. Before his wrath could be unleashed in full, the divine assembly swiftly intervened, their collective might quelling the storm of his rage.

"Begone, treacherous horror," Odin commanded, his voice resonating with divine authority. “Trouble Asgard no more, lest you face the wrath of the gods."

And with that solemn decree, the Old One swore revenge and returned to his realm.

Another cheer in the tavern erupted at the flight of the old one. All cheered but Venari and Baldr. They knew that this was not the end of the old gods, but a spark to light a larger fire.

The jubilant echoes of victory reverberated through the celestial halls of Asgard, the gods gathered in celebration, their goblets overflowing with the nectar of the gods, their voices raised in triumphant chorus as they sang songs of triumph that soared upon the winds of destiny. Yet, amidst the revelry, a shadow of curiosity fell upon the assembly as Loki, the cunning trickster god, made his entrance.

With a gleam of mischief dancing in his eyes, Loki regaled his fellow deities with the tale of his ingenious stratagem, his words dripping with the honeyed allure of his deceptive charms. "It was a simple feat," he declared with a lofty air. "I assumed the guise of a pretty little mare and led Horseman down the mountainside. Without his faithful servant by his side, the Old Man was unable to finish."

The gods and warriors in the tavern erupted into raucous laughter echoing throughout the realm as they toasted Loki's cunning with cups brimming with the finest mead. On this night warriors and gods cast aside their reservations and embraced the trickster god as a hero. His deceit had secured the safety of their beloved city behind the impenetrable barrier, but at what cost?

Verani said, “Their triumph had come at a cost, one borne upon the fragile wings of deceit and treachery.”

As the echoes of laughter faded into the night, her gaze lingered upon the grandeur of Asgard, the glittering jewel of the heavens that now stood protected behind the towering ramparts of the shield. And in that moment, a pang of sorrow pierced her heart, for she knew that the victory had been tainted by the shadows of deception and that the bonds of trust that once united them had been irrevocably sundered by the hand of trickery.

She knew that this was the first opening move towards war. The humans on Mors and Midgard would pay for this trickery in blood.

This was the spark that started the downfall of humanity and the rise of the Blind One’s wolves.