Mimir Hall
Game Master's Box Seats
"So what's the plan?" Oludumare asked, eyeing Set. Zeus and Hermes were whispering to his right, while Set looked down at the decimated arena. Oludumare squinted a little when he saw Set's pensive stare.
"The damage from Match Three was far greater than planned," Set said, solemnly. "If we move on to Match Four without taking precautions, this illustrious Hall will crash down on us."
"Like back then?"
Zeus and Hermes both looked over at Oludumare.
"You mean the First Apocalypse?" Zeus asked. "Aaaaah…that was a good day…"
Oludumare blinked a few times. Damn! I forgot he doesn't know! He thought. "Exactly. I forgot Set wasn't alive back then."
"Hmmm…" Zeus stroked his beard. "I think it's still in better shape than how we left it. I remember that roof had already caved in, and we could see all the way up to the sky." His muscles convulsed under his toga. "Which reminds me…" Zeus leaned forward. "Set, why did you invite Barong and Pakkanen, yet keep me out of this tournament?"
Set looked up and over at Zeus. "Pardon?"
Zeus puckered his lips. "I feel hurt! Not only Ragnarök, but this too? Frankly, you're being a tease!"
Hermes covered a chuckle with his hands.
Set glared listlessly. I feel a headache coming. He thought. "As much as these two events are spectacles, they are also political tools. Ragnarök showcases the hidden gems amongst the more prolific Pantheons, even the ones on the periphery, such as the Babylonians and Tuatha De Danaan. However, this forced some Pantheons to the side. Those same ones that suffered blows at Winchester." Set swallowed something vile and straightened his posture. "If we do not allow those Pantheons the chance to prove their value in Apocalypse, then they and the other periphery Pantheons will accuse us of favoritism."
"Yes, true. However." Zeus' arms swelled up with muscle, letting them hang off the sides of his chair. "Our strength earned us our spot in Valhalla. If any of them think they deserve it, they can come get it."
"They cannot."
Zeus snapped his head towards Set. "What?"
"The Accords prevent it."
Zeus' arms deflated, and he hunched over. "Damn the Accords sometimes…"
"However, there is something to take away from this for your benefit."
"Oh?"
Set formed a steeple with his fingers. "If we give those Pantheons a chance to earn their place, they can showcase their might and remind the masses of their power and pedigree. As well, we can turn the Apocalypse into a method of deliberation."
"But that's just settling arguments with fighting again," Oludumare said.
"Which escalates to war. This time, we are bound to the Accords, which I remind you was penned and inked by the first Supreme Gods. We could technically bring it back, but make the results enforceable."
Zeus' eyes gleamed a little.
"So this is a test?" Hermes asked.
Set nodded. "Only time will tell what the results will be, but the fact that the Mesoamerican Coalition, Tuatha De Danann, Yoruba, Chinese, and a few outliers were willing to send a representative means something…and we can see what they have been preparing without our knowledge."
Oludumare jutted his chin a little and squinted at Set. "You could ask us."
Set looked over at Zeus. "May I speak candidly?"
Zeus waved his hand.
"None of the Pantheons are allies. We all tolerate each other at best. None of us is willing to admit, but not ashamed either, that we are still preparing. We are all crafting stronger weapons, cultivating skills and talents, and researching lost or forbidden knowledge. But we refuse to share it. A trapping of our culture, maybe. But we are all doing it."
Hermes raised an eyebrow.
"And all for the same reasons: Each other, and to prepare to deal with threats outside our scope of knowledge." Set leered at the arena. "Like the one fighting in Match Four."
"Pakkanen," Hermes said.
Set nodded. "He is something beyond a God, but we are fortunate he is well past his prime. But that's why he's fighting Oya."
"Wait," Oludumare said. "Did you…rig the matchups?" His dreads began to float as an aura emanated from his body. "Set."
Set raised his gloved right hand without looking at him. "I did, to an extent, and only to ensure Pakkanen faced either Ryujin or Oya. The fact that we lost Ryujin in Match One is poor luck and Barong's personality. Had he known what Barong is, he'd be facing Hunahpu in Round Two." He leaned back in his chair and pulled out his tablet, typing away at the screen. "Now I need to go and get the venue squared away for the next match." He rose. "See you all soon." He walked back towards the exit and departed.
Oludumare's aura faded, and he slouched in his chair. "Conniving Ass," He whispered.
"He's always been like that," Zeus said. "Even when he built the first Apocalypse and had all of us gunning for the top, he had a plan or strategy waiting." Zeus smiled a little. "I don't mind, honestly! Keeps the Heavens interesting!"
Oludumare stared at Zeus. "You…you know?"
Zeus met his eyes, cocked an eyebrow, and leaned back in his chair.
Valhalla Arena
Odin's Chambers
Back in that fated arena, Odin sat at an ornate table, book in hand, with a small pile of books to his right. Across from him, tapping his clawed index finger and looking out the window at the waning moon, was Pakkanen.
Odin turned the page, silently reading. Pakkanen turned his attention to him and dejectedly huffed. He started drumming his fingers on the table. Odin looked up from the page and glared before turning back to his book. Pakkanen cocked his left brow.
"You must be enjoying this," He said.
Odin turned another page.
"You demand my presence, then make me wait until you're done reading." Pakkanen's left eye twitched a little. He looked to his right, seeing Huginn and Muninn huddled on a gold perch, eyeing him nervously. "Your birds have enough sense. Seems you forgot yours."
Odin exhaled as he turned the page.
Pakkanen sniffed something with his non-existent nose. "Ah, I wondered which book that was. Can't read, you know." He looked back at Odin. "That's from Gollnir's old collection, isn't it?"
Odin snapped the book shut and leered at his guest. Gently, he placed the book on the table and slid it to the left.
"There you are…" Pakkanen raised his hand and pointed at Odin. "Did I touch a nerve?"
Odin scowled. "Why amuse Set's request to come here?" He asked.
"My home's too quiet and barren. His request gives me a temporary hunting ground."
"And yet no Gods have gone missing."
"That you know of. That's the beauty of Gods. You're all clamoring for positions of strength and titles that those who fall to the wayside don't muster a care if they disappear one day. If it were Thor or Týr, maybe. But some no-name? No one cares." Pakkanen leaned over the table, grasping the edges. "Like Gollnir's People."
Odin's black aura slowly flowed out of his body.
"Knock it off. The real Odin didn't need to posture. You're embarrassing yourself. Ah." Pakkanen sniffed the air. "But you don't act like him. It's normal for prey to mimic predators to hide or scare them away." Pakkanen's smooth face molded into a mouthless smile. "But I now know you're not him. I tried to eat him once, you know. Got a good chunk out of him." He sniffed the air deeply, pulling some of Odin's aura into his non-existent nostrils. "No…you smell more like Gollnir's people." He squinted.
Odin's aura slowly vanished. "Do not speak of them."
"I ate a few of them before Gollnir set up that damn barrier." Pakkanen pulled his hood back, revealing his featureless head. It rippled and molded, taking on a nose, ears, and a mouth. It extended downward, forming a beard. "Do you know this one?" He asked in a gruff and deep voice, his mouth missing a few teeth.
The room shook as Odin's aura exploded outward, turning the room pitch black. He vanished into the shadows, leaving Pakkanen sitting alone.
"You do." Pakkanen smiled. His new features vanished back into his smooth visage. "Do you understand now? Who you're talking to? I do." Pakkanen rose. "If you do, let's talk about why you invited me here."
Slowly, the darkness peeled back, and Odin returned as the moon's glow poured back into the room, smiling a toothy grin. Pakkanen squinted at him.
"I was worried you'd tuck your tail and run," Odin said. "Seems you still have bite."
"More than enough to do to you what I did to the real Odin."
Odin huffed. He reached into his robe and pulled out a clear canister. "Do you know what this is?"
Pakkanen's eyes widened as a familiar scent passed him. "You have…"
"While I conquered the Norse, I took the time to put down many of your kind."
Pakkanen leered at him.
"I happened to keep things like this as mementos of them." He placed the canister on its side and sent it rolling across the table.
Pakkanen locked his hand around it, lifting it to his face. The familiar scent wafted from it. "How is this possible?"
Odin placed his hand on the book and slid to Pakkanen. "You said you can't read. A shame, since that is one of Gollnir's old books. It's a personal favorite of mine. Shall I tell you the title?"
"Don't mock me, you roughshod imposter."
Odin's smile grew. "It's a codex on hunting Primordial Beasts, how to preserve their remains, and make weapons from them. I made good use of it."
Pakkanen's skin cracked around his eyes. "You…"
"So make use of it. If you beat Oya, I'll give you more."
"…What's stopping me from using this on you, and taking the rest?"
"Because you know better."
Pakkanen looked down at the cannister, then back at Odin. "What's your skin in this game?"
"You and I want the same thing. Win the tournament, then be the Thirteenth Fighter, if you're even needed."
"You know what I want?"
Odin's smile turned into a smug grin. "You're an old animal pining for the old days. I want something…similar."
Pakkanen scoffed and shook his head. He pulled his hood back up as the cracks on his face vanished. "I'll win, 'Odin.' But you may not like what comes after."
Odin sat down and waved his hand. He then grabbed another book, cracked it open, and started reading.
Pakkanen leered, but turned away and left the room.
Valhalla
Ullr's Globe
Exterior
Not too far from the fated Arena of God and Man, hundreds of Gods made their way towards one of Hephaestus' illustrious Magnum Opera. Nestled within the forest below Valhalla Arena and some distance away from its sister Jörð Arena rested a massive dome the size of a city: Ullr's Globe. Named after the God who commissioned it, this virtual menagerie could create any desired biome and fill it with life realistic enough to hunt. Various Hunting Gods from all over the Heavens make their way here to keep sharp by hunting game of all kinds, even those lost to time.
Standing outside the Arena was Set, watching the crowds file in through the numbered entrances lining the dome's edge. His eyes raced from one God to another without blinking. Occasionally, he would look down at his tablet, only to then refocus his attention on the crowd flowing in.
Something bothering you? The wispy voice asked.
Checking faces. Set answered in his deep tenor. Many of these Gods were not at Mimir Hall. In fact, the crowd has grown substantially.
Well, the event was on short notice. The delay between matches may have given them a chance to see it firsthand. This is what you wanted, right?
It is. My actions back at Winchester did untold harm to many of my old proteges' Pantheons. It just feels…a bit disappointing.
Because we have to do something like this at all?
Set sighed and closed his eyes.
Sometimes…I feel like I was wrong to tell them. I know and agree with Gollnir's intentions, but it feels like everyone who knew has suffered for it. Set saw a small group of dark-skinned Gods being led by Ogun walking towards a distant entrance.
How could you predict it? You told us that wisdom is learning how to apply knowledge. How we did it is on us, not you.
But Osiris—
We knew what was at stake. You saved us, and we can never repay you for it.
Set placed his free hand on his helmet.
You have and continue to.
His tablet vibrated. He opened his eyes, seeing a notification. He tapped on it.
We're here. Northeast entrance.
That's close by. Do you see him? The wispy voice asked.
Set looked up and scanned the crowd. Within a few seconds, someone caught Set's attention. Be ready. Tomorrow's when we make our play at Manu. Set walked over to the moving crowd and waved his free hand. Two Gods saw him and waved back. One was a mountain of a God. His body was a rock of muscle, and his fading silver hair and beard stuck out at odd angles, as if struck by lightning. He wore a long, deep blue, fur-trimmed coat with a matching hip-wrap over a pair of brown pants, leather boots, and a shirt the color of clouds with a leather mantle over it. Resting on his back was an axe larger than his body. Next to him was a short, youthful God wearing a long maroon coat with accents, gray pants, leather boots, and a dark gray shirt. He wore a leather cap over his head and a large eyepatch over the left side of his face. His left ear looked like something had torn a hunk out of it, and the left side of his face was covered in gashes and cuts. In his left hand was a bow, a knife on his left hip, and a quiver sat on his back.
Ukko
God of The Sky, Lightning, & Rain
Supreme God of the Finnish Pantheon
Nyrrikki
God of the Hunt and Cattle
Finnish Pantheon
As Set got closer, Ukko cocked an eyebrow and stared listlessly. "Well, if I didn't see it, I wouldn't believe it," He said. "So you're putting on another show? Was Ragnarök not enough for Zeus?"
"He did not have a part in organizing this," Set answered. "If he did, I imagine it would turn into another brawl like the last one."
"Yes…" Ukko smiled. "A shame it only lasted a few days."
Set rolled his eyes, and Ukko chuckled a little. Set then looked over at Nyrrikki and tilted his head. "What happened?"
"Pakkanen."
Set turned back to Ukko, eyes widened.
"A few days ago, Mielikki and Tapio led a hunting party into Pakkanen's territory without my knowledge. Nyrrikki was with them."
Nyrrikki fought against a scowl as his grip tightened on his bow.
"The pair is in critical condition, and would have died were it not for Nyrrikki here carrying them back home."
Set blinked a few times. "How many were in the party?"
"Sixty. Only seven made it back."
"Ah," Set uttered. He turned to Nyrrikki. "Did you come to watch?"
"No," Nyrrikki said, his fury barely kept in check.
"He's here to help me."
Set's head snapped towards Ukko, but kept silent. Ukko raised his gloved right hand. Set sighed and nodded as his tablet vibrated.
"I understand, but please be wise about this."
"Don't worry. I know why you called me. Speaking of that, did you plan this?"
Set's gaze went cold. "I did."
Ukko smirked. "You're a madman. I would've thought a God of Chaos would be more spontaneous, but I had you pegged wrong." Ukko extended his hand. "Appreciate the chance to get back at that bastard."
Set reached and clasped it in his own. "You may not get it, but I do not like taking chances."
Both released their grip. "Oh? What else are you cooking up?"
Set shrugged. "You will see." He turned around and headed back to the dome.
"Should we trust him?" Nyrrikki asked. "He smells off."
"Set fought alongside Pakkanen at Winchester."
"What?!"
"Long story and don't care to tell it. However, because of it, he knows better than most what that thing is and why it needs to be put down. Until he does something stupid, we'll work with him."
Valhalla
Ullr's Globe
Interior Arena
Not too long after the meeting with Ukko, Set made his way up to an observation suite. He entered, seeing Zeus and Oludumare chatting with Ogun while Hermes and Eshu watched in silence, occasionally shooting a glance towards each other.
I wonder what those two are not saying out loud… Set thought.
I wager who'd win in a fight.
Set sighed. Likely. He walked past them towards and stopped at the suite's glass window. He looked up, seeing the simulated starless sky, the full moon hanging overhead. He looked down, taking in the vast Evergreen forest. A grassy clearing sat at its center with two pairs of double doors lying flat on opposite ends. Set could see movement through the other windows floating in the simulated environment, and felt an odd sense.
Are you…happy right now?
Ah. Set shook his head a little. Maybe. Seeing a place like this brings back good memories.
Time with the kids?
Yes, actually. I would take my sons camping in Eden when we were not training or working.
Sounds nice.
It was.
Set looked up from the forest towards the sky, seeing a familiar floating platform and Jarl. She now wore a long fur-trimmed black coat, ear muffs, and her hair in two braids looped into rings on the side of her temples.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Jarl yelled through her horn-shaped mic. "We thank you for your patience and willingness to work with these exceptional situations!"
"Brevity, Jarl," Heimdall spoke through her earpiece.
Crap… She thought.
"Behold! The Arena's younger, but no less impressive, sister! Ullr's Globe! Thanks to some quick work, the simulated forest below is this next match's crucible! Are you ready?!"
The muffled roar of the audience behind the windows barely reached her, but she could still see their excitement. Let's do this.
She swung her free hand down to the gate on her right. "Fighting out of the South Gate!"
Ullr's Globe
Northern Passageway
In a torch-lit hall under the globe, Oya stood at the base of a staircase. The double doors sat a dozen meters above her, and the virtual moon's soft glow shone through the cracks. She looked down at her blade, seeing her silver eyes reflected in its flat.
I warned you what might happen. A soothing, deep voice in her memory spoke.
Then why offer it?! She heard her voice yelling. She felt the phantom pain in her throat.
Because you'd suffer worse if I didn't. Now you know, and the price you paid was minimal.
CALLOUS BASTARD!
Pain is the lesson, and what we take from it determines who we really are. Now, Oya, who are you? Now that he's gone?
Oya closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw him. His usual piercing red eyes stared at her with a rare gentleness that belonged only to her. His tall, muscular frame was draped in red and white robes held in place by a large gold belt. She reached the center of his chest and felt the desire to look up and see his eyes meeting hers again. The feel of his neatly trimmed moustache and beard as she ran her nails on it when she teased him. His arms wrapped around her again.
*Shango…*Oya thought. You're not gone. You're here with me. Her grip on the machete tightened. I failed to be your strength then. Is it selfish of me to ask you to be my strength now? Can I? Her breathing shook. Please share your strength with me.
Ullr's Globe
Arena
"The Mighty Matron of the Orisha has arrived!
Wind, Thunder, Lightning, and Rain! Countless Gods amongst the Heavens tamed these forces of nature and claim to be their masters!
However! From the sacred of the Yoruba, Ilé-Ifẹ̀, one Goddess descends like a Harmattan to make her presence known!"
The double doors burst open as air roared out and flowed in all directions. All the trees bent and swayed to its might.
"The cataclysmic winds of her homeland yield only to her!
The Gods within Valhalla dare not stand in her way for fear of her power!
The monsters of Helheim dare not invade her homeland for fear of her wrath!
The dead bend the knee in awe of her might and mercy!"
Oya ascended the stairs and rose from the entrance. She walked tall as an air of regal calm flowed from her within that wild tempest.
"She tears the land asunder like a tornado!
Carries life and death like a gentle breeze!
SHE!
IS!
The Cemetery Mother!
The Unstoppable Sword Tempest!
SHE!
IS!
OOOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAAA!"
Oya walked to the field's center and planted her blade in the ground before resting her right hand on the pommel.
Jarl waved her left hand to the other side. "Fighting out of the North Gate!" Snow began to fall from the cloudless sky. Ah, craaaap. She thought. Gotta change it up a bit here…
"Do you feel it? That chill?
Is it the brisk wind biting at your senses?
Nay.
Is it winter's cold seeping into your bones?
Nay.
Is it the grip of darkness upon the last few glimpses of light?
Nay.
It is fear.
Fear that crawls through every millimeter of your being.
Fear that cannot be fought.
Fear that cannot be tamed.
Fear…that cannot be outrun….
The double doors slowly open as mist spills slowly on the grassy field. Oya watched the grass freeze solid as the mist touched it. Light footsteps echoed from within the hall.
Fear has made his way here.
Hidden by night's cover, he haunts the land. The undaunted specter prowls the frozen lands in search of his prey.
Countless have fallen to his hunger.
Countless have tried and failed to stop this force of nature.
There is a saying among the Finnish Gods that in their homeland, there are more dead by his hand than are trees…"
Pakkanen stepped out of the darkness and onto the field, the grass crunching under his steps. He leered at Oya as he walked towards her. He pulled his hood back, and his body started to swell and crack.
"For he is the….
Fear's Chill.
The Howl of the Night."
His white, smooth skin broke off, revealing coarse fur-like ice as his arms and fingers extended and sharpened into claws. He slouched forward as a snout broke out of his face and a tail stuck out of his robes.
"The Apex of the Tundra.
The Godeater.
Pakkanen…"
Pakkanen stopped. He towered over Oya and glared listlessly at her. His hands flexed, and he fanned out his claws.
"Are both fighters ready?" Jarl asked ominously.
Oya gripped the sword and kicked it out of the dirt. She stepped her right foot back and rested the machete's back on her left palm.
Pakkanen sniffed the air with his new lupine snout. His eyes snapped open, and he flinched a little. "Wretched…" He whispered. He bared his fangs as he crouched down. "You smell like him…and you'll die like him."
Oya scowled and tightened her grip. Ice crystals formed in the air around Pakkanen as the wind whipped around Oya.
"Here we go! Round One Match Four!"
Jarl raised her free hand and chopped it down.
"FIIIIIIIIGHT!"