Modern Earth, the age of science has replaced the age of Gods and Magic. They all have disproven everything about them. People have gone to the so called home of the Greek Gods and found… nothing… No grand palaces or anything else. The Gods places of worship have all but crumbled away. Some have been stolen from and some broken into and vandalized.

The mortals have forgotten about them and explained away everything about them.

But they have not thought of one simple possibility…Maybe the Gods have moved… or have their own dimension. The Gods have never met the other gods of a different culture, aside from the Roman and Greek, but that is because they are one and the same…Each realm feels like one would expect from each culture.

Asgard is surrounded by an impregnable wall and is one of the Nine worlds, inhabited by the Aesir, the race of Warrior Gods. It is located at the highest point of their universe and has the Rainbow Bridge connecting their world to Earth. They also have Valhalla the place were slain warriors wait for the final battle, Ragnarok. The realm of their Elves Alfheim and Svartalfheim is also there as well as Vanaheim the home of Vanir, it is a glorious if a bit cold. Also there is the realm of frost giants they are constantly battling. As well as Helheim, their underworld which Hel, Lokis’ daughter resides and is protected by Garm, Hel's enormous dog-guard, lives in the cave Gnipahellir. He is an eight-foot-tall black hound with glowing eyes. It is important not to underestimate Garm. While he may act like a big dog - vicious and dangerous or friendly depending on who you are - it's an act. There is as much intelligence in Garm as in any other of Helheim's guards. He is a Jotun who is always in dog-form, but he is no dumb beast. Garm seems to be on a general patrol around the borders of Helheim, meaning that he could be anywhere at any point.

Mount Olympus is the abode of the chief god Zeus. Also, the foremost gods of the Greek pantheon have their palaces at the summit. It is here that the gods assemble to consume nectar and ambrosia, the substances which reinforces their immortality. The top of the Olympus, which is covered in snow and hidden in the clouds, reaches all the way into the aether. It is the highest mountain of Greece and lies on the border of Macedonia and Thessaly, yet though mortals have been to the top they have never seen the realm. And why would they? The Gods have hidden it from their mortal eyes. Also of course is the Domain of Hades, which is surrounded nine times by the River Styx, where Hades resides.

The Egyptian Gods abandoned walking the Earth and made their own realm one that mimics Ancient Egypt, yet more elegantly and seems to never decay, eating delicacies that most have not seen in years, yet longing to walk the mortal plane again.

The Celtics Gods mimicked the Orbis Alius, the Otherworld that their old believers crafted from them and hid from sight, some still dare to walk the mortal plane in disguise as animals, though only near the holidays that still surround them, those that the Christians have not overthrown at least.

Each God in each realm have seen the flow of time on Earth and seen it change, but never seeing the other realms of the other gods.

Until now.

Ten Gods, including a few Goddesses, have been cast out of their realm by someone, though they do not know who. Some of the Gods and Goddesses are the righteous; some are the outcasts among the gods… They each have their weapons on them and have been assigned lodges at a college. They do not know how they have come to Earth or who these others are, though a few they recognize from their own realm. For the first time in history The Asgardians will meet the Olympians, the Hindu Gods will meet the Egpytian Gods and the Alaskan Gods as well as the Azetec.

Thrown into this mix are four mortals, two men and two women, who are going to the school as well. They know not who these ones are or the powers they possess, but they soon will…

The Gods have a common goal, though some are more reluctant about it than others, get back to their own realm, but to do that they need help… from the mortals. But will the mortals help? Or will they try to kill the gods, for on Earth there may be a weapon that can kill them. Though only Mortals may wield it.

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 words, “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 lit with 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.

Mórrígan felt nothing more than the weight of a club beneath her hands. She swung it right and left, a heaving mass that crunched as it smacked into her enemies - or her friend's - heads. Each hit altered the noise, and gave a new cry of death to the sound of screaming men.

The night was cold, and black. Each gust of air was shattered with screams, and with each breath she sucked in, Mórrígan could feel another death. It was warming, and in her icy dreamland she felt as warm as if she was sitting beneath the sun. But what would be the fun in that? Why would she sit beneath the sun, warm her hands in her long black hair, when she could fight beneath the moon?

A man streaked towards her with a yell in his throat and a sword overhead. Mórrígan swung her club in a circle - aiming for as much momentum as she could push for - and smiled as it struck its mark in his gut. His weapon fell to the ground as he clutched his gut, and she turned away from the mess, swinging her club in a circle.

"Here, in the night, is where the I reign! I call the shadows, I dance with the winds, I rule with the night!" She raised her hands above her head, letting the cold air smack her in the face.

She could not imagine a better place to be. Mórrígan lowered her hands, and picked up the club again. As she looked around herself, she was pleased to see that her personal favor - whoever was fighting? She had seen this exact battle so many countless times, she could not tell herself who was fighting who - for the side she had chosen was perfect. They were winning, and as far as she was concerned, going to finish the battle.

Mórrígan tossed the club into the air. She would not be needing it, now that she was done fighting, and let it fall back to the ground - precisely from whence she had picked it up. With that, she let herself shape-shift into the form of a crow, taking to the air and flying above the battlefield.

As she did, she found herself considering her life once more. What was there to it? Here she was, the only Celtic God she had known of in the Ages since she first fought this battle, and yet she was all alone. Her mother - may she rot in whatever hell she had found - had hated her so much. And for each Age that turned when she lived with her two sisters, the only thing Mórrígan had ever wished for was a way out.

When it presented itself, she was so scared to take it. She was too young to take to the lands on her own, and there she found herself. But for what reason? Why had she not followed her two sisters to the grave - was that not the easiest choice? And now, that was all she wished for. For each death she gave, for each sword she would swing, she could never die herself.

It was her hell and her heaven, all in one blend, all the same battle.

The crow dipped closer to the battle, about to land in a tall oak tree when she saw a blast of light. A perfect storm, the right change in the wind of death. Before she could do anything - before she could blink, breathe, let alone notice the light - it consumed her.

---

When she did remember it, she was nowhere near the battle as it was raging. Mórrígan opened her eyes, and yawned. She was already bored. Where was the death? Where was the smell, the long trail of purple smoke, anything to lead her to where she was supposed to be?

Mórrígan stood up in a moment - she ached, true, but only her wings...which were not there, but for good reasons, she assumed - and looked around herself. Everything had changed. And to what purpose? Where was she? She looked into the distance. The sun was glimmering against glass sculptures, and she cocked her head to the side, squinting. "Burn my eyes, where do I stand?" She looked around herself, trying to piece together the puzzle.

A solitary oak tree stood by her. At the ground was a quarter-staff. Mórrígan raced to it's side, kicking it up with her feet and snatching it from the air. She looked at it, eyeing the wood. It had been carved to be perfect for herself - a grip precisely where she liked it, with runes snaking up the side. At some other point, I will translate this, or I'm not the Goddess of Death... However, more important matters are at hand.

She shifted into the first animal she could think of - which took a moment. The form bled through slowly, but then she was standing tall in the form of an animal. She was not sure which one; that was the question. Whatever it was, though, she let it run towards the city.

Mórrígan was surprised to see how long it took to get to the city. Why had it taken so long? It had never before been so long, but there it was, more than the few moments she had ever had to travel. As she neared the glass buildings, she looked into the reflection; there stood a black mare, mane swirling in the wind. She shifted back into her 'human' form, also taking longer than she wanted, though when she saw it in the mirror she gasped.

It was truly a human. No longer an immortal being's favorite form, but a human. Her hand tugged at her braid, pulling at it, trying to see if it was real, and the head-ache she was given told her it was real. Mórrígan screamed with frustration. This was hell! Forget an endless battle, this was what was truly hell!

She picked up her quarterstaff - she had not remembered taking it as the mare, but it had arrived with her nonetheless - and her eyes caught a look of a small gold scrap beneath the staff. "Perhaps I did not carry it at all," she murmured, picking up the paper with it.

"Mórrígan Brisdeah, your presence is required at the building in the center of town." Celtic runes? Her eyes strained to read them, but indeed it was. And that her mortal eyes could read it surprised her.

Mórrígan sighed, and decided she was to see what was happening. The path to town slowly unfolded itself. As she followed it - a small purple smoke stream? She missed the sight of it, but she could not imagine being summoned just to kill someone - she watched her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a black leather skirt, falling just to her thighs, along with a loose corset that had deep-plum colored embroidery throughout the boning. At least I'm not wearing pants.

The building she was sent to turned out to be a school. She stared at the students milling around its campus, but continued to follow the smoke line. It led her through passages that were seldom used, and for what purpose she could not imagine. But she continued walking through, to where it shot into the wall.

Mórrígan stared at it, even daring to smell it, before taking a leap of faith and slamming herself into the wall. She stumbled - having expected solid matter - and fell to her knees, before pushing herself to stand up. She was not alone, it seemed, as she stared at the man who stood before her.

"Pray tell, who do I have the pleasure of knowing?" she murmured, daring to approach. This unfamiliar standing, wherever she was, she wanted to know who this was. "I ask for a name, and the pleasure of knowing what brings you here." She slammed the quarterstaff into the ground, so that she could let go of it.

The Field of Reeds was an eternal paradise, but even gods got bored.

It had been far too long since Bast had been asked to devour the enemies of Ra and deliver their hearts at his feet, and understandably, she was getting a bit restless. It had been thousands of years since her worship had been widespread, and since the gods had retreated to their own realm. The sun here was no less strong than it had been on Earth, no less real, but in its own way, less satisfying.

Grumbling to herself as she took her barque out on the water, she didn't notice the unusual rapid making its way towards her. It rocked the boat just enough to tip her over into the water, and her yowl of surprise was cut short by the water surrounding her, enveloping her. The world swirled around her and she landed, hard, on her hands and knees.

Biting back a series of choice curses - bad heka, not a good idea even for a god - she got to her feet. Much to her surprise, she was dry, and there was a khopesh on the ground before her with a note. She studied the note, reading the hieroglyphs on the papyrus, and nodded to herself. Then she knelt down and scooped up the khopesh, and with a flick of her wrist, turned it into a charm on a necklace before pulling the necklace over her head.

Hmm. No ears. She glanced in the window and did a double-take at her appearance. She was fully in the guise of a mortal, cat head nowhere to be found. Her attire was not at all what she was used to, but it fit her well; a dress of strong turquiose and gold, balanced with white, which set off her dark skin, and gold eyeshadow and kohl around her eyes. Atop it all was a black military-styled jacket, and golden gladiator sandals were on her feet.

Okay, she was intrigued now. One did not simply summon an Iryt-Ra like a common-or-garden demon, after all; she was not to be ordered around. So she'd go follow these instructions...and then tear apart whoever had dared to think they could summon a goddess. Then she'd turn her thoughts to returning to Aaru, but in the meantime, she'd be enjoying her time in the mortal world.

Bast followed the trail she'd been set to the circular building. She went through corridors and passageways before coming to a blank wall. She sniffed at it a moment, and, smelling not stone but air, went through.

Oh, now this was interesting. Two people talking, both with a northerly look to them. Bast folded her hands in front of her. "Excuse me," she said, smiling as cheerfully as she could with murder in her eyes, "but are either of you the reason why I am here?"

Vidar felt the heat of the morning sun on his back and the sweat of his labor pouring down his face. After heaving a heavy pillar about the size of the empire state building over his head, he walked toward the shining halls of Valhalla. The already massive hall was being further renovated to fit more men and women inside. After walking to an open at the end of the hall, he laid the stone pillar onto the ground with a loud rumble. He then pushed the pillar into the opening and sealed the hall once again.

Vidar turned around to be greeted be Heimdall, watcher of the gods.
"Let me thank you again. Without you we would have never finished extending the hall. With all of the soldiers pouring in from Afghanistan, Odin figured that we might as well increase the size of Valhalla.” Heimdall said, patting Vidar’s back.
“Oh yeah. Here you go,” Heimdall pulls out a handful of leather straps, “Some straps for the Wolf-slayer.”

Vidar gives Heimdall a disapproving look.
Heimdall sighs, “I forgot you don’t like being called by kennings. *Ahem* Here’s some straps for you Vidar.” Vidar smiles and reaches out for the straps and a sudden bright light blinds him.

He strains to see and suddenly finds himself standing on asphalt in the middle of a city. It seemed to that his attire had changed. He was now looking rather mortal, with Brown work pants with black straps that go over his shoulders, a white shirt, brown gloves, and extremely thick strong brown work boots. He did keep certain attributes from his original form. He still is very tall and has his long red hair and bright, glowing, green eyes. He looks down to find a scroll next to his feet. He picks it up and it says in Old Norse, "Vidar, your presence is required at the middle of town."

Vidar walks to the middle of town to find a college and another note, "continue into the building and take your seat." He proceeds into a hall that ends with a wall. He goes to touch the wall and discovers that he can pass right through it. Inside he sees two figures standing and Loki sitting down. He raises one eyebrow and walks to a vine covered stone chair and sits down silently.

It's a popular saying that the Gods don't play dice with the universe. That's technically true these days. But it used to be quite the pass-time on Mount Olympus, and not just dice, but any number of games. Chess was popular, as well, because they could use a conjured miniaturized reflection of the Mortal Coil as the board, and it was all very symbolic and theatrical and omnipotent and dramatic, just the way Greco-Roman deities liked it way back in The Good Old Days B.C, before their retreat into the new Olympus in the Aether. In those days, armies would swarm like ants on the great playing board spread across the central table of the Gods' palace, and the dice would fall fast and rattling from the Gods' and Goddesses' capricious hands, and the men below would live and die to the rhythm of the tiny black dots painted on smooth ivory faces. Hero was wagered against hero, the greatest living men and women of earth nothing but pawns in the Deities' long game. Actually, it looked something like RISK.

Now, the dice that once controlled the rise and fall of nations, were being used for Yahtzee. Score was being kept on the backs of old Divine Commandments. Around a long stone slab in the grass, on the lower and less exalted slopes of Mount Olympus, sat 15 minor Gods and Goddesses: Eris Discordia and her brothers and sisters.

"You're cheating!"

"I am not, Quarrels!" Eris snapped.

"Strife, is it my turn?" drawled a dreamy voice, half-asleep, from the other end of the table.

"Yes, Forgetfulness, and my name's Eris."

"Really? When did that happen?"

"About five thousand years ago, I think. No one's called me Strife since I was barely Personified."

"...oh..."

"If she isn't taking her turn," Violence burst out, "I'm going again!" A chainmailed hand shot across the table and grabbed the dice of fate in a fist. Eris grabbed his wrist before he could roll.

"If Forgetfulness is asleep, it's my turn." They struggled and shouted over the dice for a moment. One of the dice fell between their fingers, and fell on the stone board where the world once was reflected. Fate's dice rolled to a stop totally at random, and below, a certain world leader at war began to choke on his food, the possible balance of the history of the world wobbled for a moment. Eris picked up the dice from the board. The world leader swallowed. The balance was restored. Eris rolled the dice on the stone slab herself. Four of the dice showed five dots. The fifth teetered on a corner for a moment, then turned into five ladybugs, who scuttled away.

"Sorry. It's those Discordians that have been cropping up on the Mortal Coil lately. They've given me a new creative aspect, and I'm still learning to control it. Hm...that shouldn't have worked though. The Mortal Coil shouldn't be that close..." There was an awkward silence. "So I'm going to count that as a five." Eris said, as casually as she could.

"CHEATING!" howled Betrayal.

Eris opened her mouth to argue, and in a flash of light she was gone.



Down on the Mortal Coil, Eris' teeth clicked shut in surprise. One of many things she was surprised about was having teeth. She clicked them together several times with an evaluating look on her face. Spontaneous Incarnation. That was weird. She liked it. She'd been incarnated before and spent a fair bit of time on Earth, and unlike most Gods actually quite liked mortals, and posing as one. She thought they were cute and funny and liked talking to them and hanging out with them and messing with them endlessly. Look at 'em all, having their hair and tummies and eyelashes, all breathing and stuff. Adorable. There sure were a lot of them here...

She looked around. The room was dim, but comforting, music played, and people talked over it, and the room hummed with conversation and hung with light smoke. Her last visit to the Earth had been some time ago, but she knew the smell of beer. She was at a pub in a village somewhere, sitting at the bar. She looked across to the mirrored bar-back, and peeked at her reflection between the coloured glass bottles. She certainly pulled a better number than last time. Her last incarnation had been a bit dumpy, she always thought. But this one, has a bit of body to this body, without looking like a sack of laundry. She quite liked her hair. Classic. That nose, unfortunately, was classic too. Her outfit, she assured herself, was suitably classy and modern.

"Miss Discordia? This's for you." the big bartender said roughly, and dropped a crumpled bar napkin in front of her. She unfolded it. It said: "Go to the building at the center of town. And I mean THIS town. And I mean the center, as it would appear on a map. No tricks. No jokes. No japes, jests, loopholes, wordplay, pranks, hoodwinks, or any other of your usual business. Now GO. And Eris? No gift is required at this party, if you take my meaning."

Eris quickly folded the napkin into a paper swan and headed for the center of town. As the door swung shut behind her, the paper swan honked once, then returned to its usual silent self.

She ran and darted along the sidewalk, humming random bars of no melody in particular, acting much younger than her apparent age. She ducked to one side or the other of people on the sidewalk as she passed them, and splashed through puddles, and went the long way around, but reached the middle of town. When the building came into view, she noticed immediately that it was a school of some sort. She wrinkled her nose. Schools weren't usually her kind of places. They were usually pretty decidedly Greyface territory. All those identical square desks in even rows...rubs her just exactly the wrong way. But the mystery note said to go in, and how could you say to no an invite like that.

Inside, she came into an empty hall and turned around herself. To the eye, the walls were blank. But she wouldn't be a trickster spirit and daughter of the Anthropomorphic Personification of night, darkness and hidden things, if she didn't have an idea when someone was trying to put it over on her right under her nose. She smiled, and raised one arm, first finger pointing straight out in front. Standing in the middle of the room, she began to spin around in a circle, faster and faster, until her mortal body's head started to spin, and then stopped suddenly. She shook her head to dispel the dizziness, then with a shrug dashed headlong into the wall.

It was the wrong one. She picked herself up, dusted herself off, and tried again on the wall to the left. This one gave like empty air, and on the other side she was standing in the room of chairs with the others. She looked around at them with a wry, mischievous smile, and sat herself down in one of the seats, visibly making herself at home. She could feel a sort of odd tension in the room, and being Eris "Strife" Discordia, she thrived on a tension.

"So!" she chirped playfully, "Are we going to play Duck-Duck-Goose?"

Vali sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the wild. The birds chirped, the wolves howled, the snake hissed. The only time Vali felt truly calm was on the hunt. The tension in his bow and the quiet sound of the fallen leaves crunching beneath each step. Vali stared down his bow into his target. The large Buck was grazing on grass, unaware to the Hunter, until it heard a low growl from the tall grass. The deer bolted away and a pack of wolves swarmed from the grass. Vali sighs and dashes through the wolves firing arrows at each one he passes until a trail of dead wolves lay on the forest floor. Seeing the Buck from a great distance Vali stands up straight and fires an arrow. The arrow Soars over the treetops and after some time passes hits the buck between the shoulders and it goes limp sliding slightly across the ground.

He walks up to the fallen animal taking his time. Once he is at the Buck, he gets down on his knees and pulls out a dagger. He raises the dagger above his head and cries out, "I MAKE THIS SACRIFICE TO ODIN!" and brings his knife down into the sacrifice. As soon as the dagger pierces the flesh a Bright light blinds Vali.

Vali stands up and finds himself in the middle of a park. He looks around him in confusion, wondering where he could possibly be, his surroundings darker than usual. "What in Hel's name is going on?" He spots a note tied to a tree and walks over to it, unties it, opens it up, and reads in Old Norse:

Vali,

Your presence is required at the building in the center of town immediately.

Vali looks below the writing and sees a map showing him where he is and where he needs to go.
"Alright then, looks like this is the only way to find out what is happening." Vali walks towards the center of town passing shops and diners on his way. "I must be in Midgard. It's strange to see the humans so close. They do wear some cool clothing these days." Vali looks into a shop window where a mirror is reflecting his appearance. Seeing the pair of sunglasses gives him a sudden realization, "No wonder everything looks darker." He inspects himself looking at his new outfit. He sees himself wearing a long black sleeveless trench coat with the word "hefnd" in red on the back. Under it he has on a green sleeveless turtleneck shirt and green military pants with black combat boots. On his hands he has black fingerless gloves. He has a green quiver at his waist and his bow on his back. "I'm liking this new look already, " he says with satisfaction, "It's been awhile since I've had a costume change."

He continued to the middle of the city until he walked up to the University. "What kind of joke is this? There is just no way that this could be right. It can't be." He looks down and another note is laying at his feet. He picks it up and reads it:

Vali,

Go into the building and take your seat.

"Aw great. More of this ****ing s*** again. You'd think that they would have the decency to at least sign the d*** thing so I know who I'm talking to." Vali crumples up the note and shoves it into his coat pocket. He walks into the building and looks down the hall with a dead end. "I sense something strange here." Vali walks down the hall and tries to touch the wall at the end.

His hand passes through without any effort. He walks into the room and sees the people in the room. He smiles when he sees Vidar, but then his mood sours when he sees Loki. He notices many of the other people in the room emit a powerful magic aura. "Tch. Isn't that just great. I get stuck in a room full of Volva." He looks around at the chairs and sees a chair made of heliotrope stone. He sits down in it and lays his bow across his lap. "My calm from the hunt has worn off and I'm stuck in a room with Loki, this isn't going to be fun."