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Wōđanaz

Wodanaz appears to be a wandering old man with a long grey beard and dark blue cloak wearing a wide brimmed helm of gold.

0 · 423 views · located in Space

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Sigurd_Hring

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The Empyrean Norsemen have a well established space-faring kingdom on an isolated island in the Empyrean High Seas, originating on planet Gaia in the Milky Way and waving a dragon banner.

Description

Wodanaz appears to be a wandering old man with a long grey beard and dark blue cloak wearing a wide brimmed helm of gold. He looks like a hermit or prophet with a small following of priests.

So begins...

Wōđanaz's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Wōđanaz
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Wōđanaz peers out over Mjötviðr, The Realms, sitting upon his throne Hlidskjalf while gazing over the Multiverse from his high seat beyond. He was accompanied by two wolves which rested at his feet at either side of Hlidskjalf, while they themselves were accompanied by two ravens which perched above the king's chair on either side of Wōđanaz, one of them whispering everything into his ear, recalling all manner of thoughts and accoustics, the desires and schemes of those with hearts, all imaginations and even some hidden fates and futures. The other raven, although less verbal than the former one, was distinguished by it's one milky white eye which seemed to be blind, yet remained open and staring. It's other eye was pitch black, and whatever that raven's eye could see, Wōđanaz could see it too.

Gripping the shaft of his magical spear Gungnir, on which the tip had been engraved in dwarven runes, enchanted so that the spear, if thrown, would never miss its mark, with its shaft crafted by the Sons of Ivaldi under the mastery of Dvalinn, forged from the magical branches of Yggdrasil itself, Wōđanaz peered out over the realms. His one eye watching everything which transpired below, like a god-king sitting atop of his mountain throne looking down at a live-action tabletop roleplaying game. Asgard, Midgard, Hel, and those places on the gameboard below seemed ever so small to Wōđanaz from Hlidskjalf, in that great hall of his called Valaskjalf, located high above Asgard and everywhere else in Mjötviðr, posted like an eagle's nest in one of the highest branches of a forest canopy.

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Above his mighty black mountain in Valaskjalf, above that great big silver canopy was nothing but open sky and darkness, a swirling storm of purple, black, pink and grey, a void-like cloudy shadow illuminated by spurs of flaming smoke and flashes of mostly silent light, almost like rainbow nebulae, gamma rays and heat lightning, and the only thing in that endless vastness were blue and white twinkling stars and galaxies, or what looked like them anyway. This space-like dome ceiling over Valaskjalf's silver rooftop was actually the grand Multiverse itself, and what appeared to Wōđanaz like distant stars in deep space were actually distant parallel universes in the cosmic ocean of that never-ending Multiverse, separated by millions of billions of light years and time distortions in the void that very few in the whole grand scheme of things could see, let alone imagine.

Wōđanaz looked beyond all the citadels in Asgard, beyond his other throne at Valhöll, gazing over the tallest peaks in Jotunheim, past its giant stronghold at Utgard, beyond all the halls, forests and oceans of Vanaheim, beyond Niflheim, beyond Muspell, and into the great primordial void from whence all existence came to be, from a time before time, a space beyond space, to the great paradoxical singularity that is both all and nothing. There he fixed his gaze for a while, entering a trance-like meditation, a motionless death-like state of being without pulse or breath, sitting upright with one eye open, firmly gripping his spear without slouching or blinking. Wōđanaz was like a statue as he sat on his throne, gazing into the endless expansion, Geri and Freki laying on the floor beside him. One of them appeared to be napping or sleeping on his side with his eyes closed and head down. The other wolf was also laying down, but his head was up and his eyes open as he lounged quietly, taking a deep yawn before laying his head down and watching the entrance to the hall as if lazily guarding his master.

Soon, the one raven with the milky white eye, Muninn, would cawl once before flapping its enormous wingspan and taking flight, shrinking both in size and nearness to Mjötviðr as it dove down into the realm of Miðgarðr far below, and descended further upon the vastness of Space, its one black eye sending everything it saw back to Mjötviðr, back to Valaskjalf and to Hlidskjalf where the raven's master was seated. Once in Space, the intelligent and sentient corvid would glide effortlessly through the universe, looking at all the different galaxies scattered about as if trying to decide which one to descend upon. It was difficult to decipher the raven's actual size from a distance in Space at that moment, for it had seemed to change in size and shrink from its otherwise massive galaxy-sized form in Mjötviðr, becoming more star-like in size as it flew into Midgard, continuing to seemingly shrink more and more now as it dove down into the open vastness of Space, its black feathers extremely difficult to see in the darkness as it soared in search of wisdom and knowledge to share with Wodanaz.


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Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Du Kuldr Goroth Character Portrait: Ayanna Shadowleaf Character Portrait: The Final Order Character Portrait: Du Orya Abr Sundavr Character Portrait: Drek'Thaleen Character Portrait: Du Gramr Konugr
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Muninn, the second raven would cawl and blink at the orbus. Wodanaz could see everything that was transpiring in the realms, as Muninn kept its gaze fixed on The Orbus distrustfully like a typical wild avian. Meanwhile, the two wolves at the foot of Woden's throne continued to lay on the ground lazily, paying little mind to all of the happenings around them. Woden himself was just sitting on his throne silently, upright and facing forward. He did not flinch or blink, only sitting there quietly while holding the shaft of his magical spear with his right hand with its rune engraved tip pointing vertically towards the open dark skies. No sound was emitted from the one eyed man with the long grey beard and wide brimmed hat. His one white eye, appearing blind and colorless, peered forward from beneath the shadow of his hat, while his other eye remained evinced in shade, peering out into the darkness. It was difficult to tell, but he was watching, listening, and absorbing everything that was happening in all of the realms below. He was planning something...

The setting changes from Space to Great Ellarian Forest

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sigurd Hring Character Portrait: Bjorn Ironside Character Portrait: Dainn Character Portrait: Iskjerne Berserkers Character Portrait: Wōđanaz Character Portrait: Hermann der Cherusker
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#, as written by Sigurd
The Great Ellarian Forest...

The Battle of the Valley below...


Hope seemed lost for Prince Bjorn and his berserkers. In the midst of the fighting, time seemed to slow down for Bjorn Ironside as everything became silent. All the men were still fighting, spears, axes and shields clambering as barbarians and berserkers alike let out their war cries. But to Bjorn, everything just went numb. He couldn't hear all the shouting and screaming, or crying in agony. It was as if he had somehow lost himself in the moment, and for that moment, he looked around at all the carnage they had caused. He could see one of his comrades impaled to the earth in such a way that he had died standing with a javelin through his neck. Bjorn turned and noticed the man beside him, a fellow Iskjerne Berserker whose leg had been injured. The brave warrior put up his best fight, but Bjorn watched as the barbarians quickly surrounded him and overpowered him, killing the wounded berserker without mercy. Now it was just Prince Bjorn himself and two others, outmatched by hundreds upon hundreds of Germanic soldiers. Bodies lay stacked on top of bodies, and the blood ran deep over the battlefield.

It was as if Bjorn Ironside himself was about to have a panic attack. His life flashed before his very eyes, and in the distance beyond the trees, in the midst of that heart reckoning battle, Bjorn saw what appeared to be an old man in Viking armor wearing a hooded cloak, just walking casually along as if nothing was even happening. This is it, Bjorn thought to himself. Odin is here, watching, waiting for me he thought. Bjorn Ironside's blue eyes became brighter and wider, and for a moment, he could almost feel his own warrior spirit leaving his body. He started to feel tired, very tired, and he knew that this would be his very last battle. Or at least he thought. Bjorn started to get the feeling like he was standing on his own grave, and for the first time ever, fear struck him deep inside.

That's when everything changed.

Suddenly, he felt a calm cold breeze on his face. The winds had changed, and as he looked up towards the trees, he watched the branches and leaves sway in the other direction. It was very delightful for some reason, though at the time he didn't understand why. But as he came back to his senses, the old man in the hooded cloak disappeared from his sights, and suddenly Bjorn noticed that the Germanic tribes were retreating, heading back to the Groenbogs from whence they came. It was the Cherusci who were now panicking as they tried to run away from the blazing fire that was engulfing the Great Ellarian Forest behind them. Fate it seemed was not without a sense of irony. Arminius had withdrawn from the valley, along with all his barbarians, and like ghosts in the wind, were now disappearing back into the forest.

The old man he saw in the mist was not Odin after all, and if he was, then it surely wasn't Bjorn he had come to collect. The tide of the battle had suddenly changed, and as the Southern Germanic tribes fled away from the battle, Bjorn Ironside and his Northern Germanic berserkers were now pursuing them over the ridgeline, chasing them towards the Groenbogs like the madmen they were. Bjorn took a deep breath and continued fighting until there was no one left in his sight to kill, placing his axe in the backs of many a fine warrior until alas, the rest had vanished, leaving the 3 remaining berserkers winded and tired, with no more battlecries or voices yelling off in the distance. Everything became silent once again, and all he could hear now was the crackling of the burning trees as the forest fire became visible to him.


Meanwhile...

In the Blazing Forest...


As the man disguised as an old Viking in steel armor and a hooded cloak continued to walk through the Great Ellarian Forest amidst the burning flames, his or her face and skin became increasingly hot. J the Devil was distracted from his or her own thoughts by the raging fire as it began to creep ever so slowly towards them. Miniscule little spirits appeared to take shape in the flames, either by some form of strange Gaian magic or hallucination as what looked like tiny fire demons started to dance around J, resembling some sort of pixies or sprites, holding hands in a circle as they danced around the cloaked figure in disguise, leading J ever deeper into the forest and closer to the flames. However, these strange little burning creatures were neither pixies nor demons. For in reality they were ljosálfar; the light elves, mischievous but helpful little creatures who had mistaken J the Devil for the real Odin, and had come to pay their respects. Needless to say, someone else was also watching this so-called Devil from bird's eye view. The raven with the one milky white eye was flying over the Great Ellarian Forest, his own vision relaying back to Mjötviðr, The Realms, being shared by the man with the black wide brimmed hat who sat on his throne Hlidskjalf, not on Gaia but far far away in outer Space, beyond even the reach of this clever Devil in the Gaian forest.

His name... was Wōđanaz.

The one-eyed raven was none other than Muninn himself, one of the fylgjar whom Wōđanaz had sent down from his highseat to explore the realms and relay back everything he saw. Whatever the raven saw, the man with the black hat also could see, and everything he saw, he retained as memory. Wōđanaz contemplated whether or not to intervene with the light elves, but instead he did nothing, only observing the events on Gaia as if peering into a crystal ball. The raven cawled as it flew over the forest, over Bjorn Ironside and his lucky berserkers, over J the Devil, over the Germanic tribes led by Arminius and the equestrian in the iron mask, flapping its wings as it flew between the billows of rising black smoke before heading over the Weargtooth Mountains.


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