Snippet #1966390

Loki Laufeyjarson, god of fire, chaos, mischief, and to some, lying, thievery, magic and deceit… was in his usual spot at the very edge of Asgard and the world of Giants, a fitting place for him, tied up in his son’s entrails as a snake dripped venom on his head making him cringe in pain, only a few times has he not been here… He wished it would stop! Even a brief reprise would be welcomed… but no this was his punishment. His punishment for tricking Hod into killing his twin brother Baldur, the god of light and truth, with a mistletoe at the festival to calm Baldurs nerves, to prove that all the beings on the Earth had promised not to hurt him. All except the Mistletoe, “It is not my fault Frigga forgot to ask the mistletoe… she should have known that even if it is small that it would be insulted that she did not ask…” he thought to himself as the venom dripped on him making him hiss in pain. He almost called out to his Blood brother… and who he once long ago thought of as a father, for help. He bit his tongue before he did. He didn’t want nor need his help! After all this has been his fate since he became a God. Who would have thought? A frost giants’ son becoming a god? It was almost laughable… but here he was, Loki son of the giantess Laufey managed to trick the Gods into becoming one. It was one of his crowning moments.
His others though… well they were always overshadowed by Thor Odinson, Odins’ true son… the thought of Thor brought rage to his face. Every time Loki did some good or grand, there he would be stealing his thunder, his glory, by doing something to one up him! He was the one who made Loki remember what he really was… not an Aesir like the rest, but a frost giant, one will always be over shadowed by them… when Loki remembered this he grew cold and distant from the rest of the Gods, seething in his anger. When the event that led to his imprisonment happened, it was the only thing that kept him sane.
Was his rage against Thor justified? Probably not all of it was, but it was the one thing that he used to keep him sane, and yes, even if he was the god of chaos he was and is quite sane.
The venom dripped on him snapping him back into reality. He tried once more to conjure fire so he could break free of his bindings. Yet as expected he could not. “Curse them!” he screamed out. “Curse them all! When Ragnarok comes and I am freed from here I will exact my revenge on them!” he roared out, knowing no one would hear him. He didn’t even try to break free, feeling to weak. “How many years has it been since I was last fed? Not since I insulted everyone at that feast I believe. No Mead has touched my tongue no fruit has passed my lips.” he thought as he counted the seconds as his skin started to heal, yet as usual just as it did heal another drop of venom fell on his head making him close his eyes. “Even having my mouth sewn shut for months was not this horrible.” he muttered with a sigh.
He felt it rather than saw it.
A shift in the power where he was, the ground shook and a flash of light blinded him, for a moment he thought Thor was coming, but no this was different.
When he opened his eyes he tried to sit up, not expecting to be able to do so he was surprised when he accomplished the feat. “What in Asgard?” he muttered as he looked around him. He blinked, “I am not in Asgard am I?” he muttered seeing tall buildings made out of glass in the distance. He frowned, “Ragnarok has not begun yet, so why have I been freed from my prison?” he asked himself as he started walking. He kicked something and frowned as he picked it up a grin appeared on his face. It was a short scepter like instrument that was gold and had two blades jutting out of the end one longer than the other and nestled in between the blades was a blue crystal. “My weapon… oh it has been ages since I last laid eyes on you.” He commented almost cooing as he held it, making it grow into his staff and then he made it shrink as he made it seem to disappear. He turned around as he thought he heard something and gasped in surprise at what he saw reflected back at him.
In an abandoned building window was a pale man with slicked back black hair and green blue eyes. He wore a long green jacket with gold décor and a black outfit underneath. He walked closer to it and touched the glass. “Is that me? Do I really look so… mortal?” he muttered. It had been ages since he had last looked at himself. He frowned as he moved away from it. He saw something glitter beneath his feet and picked it up reading the Norse runes on the thin gold scroll. It read, Loki Laufeyjarson, your presence is required at the building in the center of town. Do not try not to go Trickster God or the consequences will be worse than you could ever imagine. Loki sneered at the note and crumpled it as he tried to summon his flame. To his great surprise he could as he watched his flame burn the scroll and he crushed the flame out as he started walking to the city.
When he reached the building he sneered as he read the Norse runes etched so faintly in between the college name that mortals would not be able to read it, “I am sent to a place of learning? What mockery is this?” he thought to himself as he found another scroll for him and picked it up as he read the directions on it and again burned the scroll and put it out as the smell of smoke lingered, though considering the room he was in is a stone circular room alit of candles he knew it would be masked.
He walked out of the room and down a hidden path and reached the wall. He took out his scepter and made it grow into a staff as he held it straight out and concentrated as he sent some of his power through it as he made the rune of his name appear on the wall that glowed briefly before vanished as he walked straight through the wall and into what was a familiar sight, or to him it was.
The room was made out of stone and was round, the floor was sawdust and as he looked up he sighed at the seats. “An arena… how quaint…” he muttered to himself as he rested his staff on the ground. He saw a chair made out of Onyx and walked over to it as he sat in it resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head in his palm. His legs were spread a bit arrogantly and his mischievous smile was on his face, though that quickly vanished as he noticed that there were nine more chairs, most were elaborate and each seemed to be made out of a different type of stone. “Is this a trial? If so the judges are late…” he commented. “I would pray to Odin that Thor does not come, but since Odin and I are not on good terms I will opt out of that.” He muttered as held onto his staff.