text: The year is 1872. Outside of the arid desert town of Thunders Peak, Foursquaria, a tall, lithe figure staggers drunkenly through the empty dunes with no real sense of direction. He is a wanderer, the Eternal Wayfarer who in a past life was known as Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. After dying in one of the most infamous assassinations in American history, he found himself being given a second chance as his true ascended self: the king of the Norse pantheon of gods, Odin. Unfortunately, the cost of a fresh start was beginning to circle around him like the vultures that had been following since he found his was into the hot sandy climate. “She called me a demon, a cruel hoax by the devil himself. She ran from me in that moment, my very heart expelled. Who am I now? A mystery of the ages A man left living aimlessly ageless like a figure lost to the pages of a storybook...” Although his speech was slurred, he still effortlessly and so eloquently flowed through the pain-filled poems that clouded his mind. “The light of my life snatched by the cold hook of the cruelest crook; Fate. The chance I took to keep the state of a love that couldn’t bare to gaze-” A steely cold “clik” followed by a cold metal ring pressed into the base of his skull broke his stream of consciousness and caused the weary godling to stop in his tracks. “You’d better reach fer th’ sky if’n ya don’t wanna be meetin’ yer maker today, ya roostered saddle bum! Who are ya and why’re ya trespassin’ in Thirteen Pistols’ territory?” The thick, wet smack of a wet glob of tobacco-flavored spit splattering into the hot sand punctuated the interrogation quite succinctly. The gruff voice barking at him didn’t phase the inebriated ex-president in the slightest, but the overwhelming mixed stench of the spit and the unwashed man behind him made him cringe just a little. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to his new enhanced senses, but he did know he wasn’t about to start taking guff from any coward who attacks a man from behind. “Son, I’ve stared into the eyes of Death herself. Lost it all and even traveled to the gates of Hel,” In an instant, Odin’s left eye flared with a fiery passion and his knuckles went white with how hard he was clenching his fists. He made a lightspeed about face, turning to face his assailant faster than the naked eye could track as a visible aura of red pure rage engulfed his frame. What he didn’t expect to see staring back at him were the barrels of 26 pistols, all aimed directly for his head except for a pair that were aimed at his legs. “He’s not going to ask again. Who are you and what are you doing wandering through our territory?” A tall, darker-skinned woman strolled closer to Odin so she could start circling him, scoping him out to assess his threat level. “I... Know not how to answer that query. A president or a god most weary?” Odin wasn’t lying, he had been walking for a few weeks with no rest, making his way from the east coast deep into the western half of the country he one led looking and smelling like a walking distillery rather than a president or a god. With the merciless sun beating down on him and the last bit of his considerable godly power dwindling towards its bare minimum, he collapsed onto the blazing red desert sands.. “Ah hell, I guess the sun beat ‘im down. Either that or-” “Or he got so scared he fainted!” “Either way, doesn’t matter. Doc, get him into a tent to cool off and rest up. Oh, and don’t forget to run his pockets for anything dangerous or interestin’ to report. Everyone else, let’s get back to preppin’ for the supply run.” In his unconscious state, Odin’s mind drifted to approximately seven years ago in a courtroom somewhere beyond the realm of the physical and severed from time itself. Rubbing the back of his head and still very disoriented from the effects of taking a bullet to the dome, he tries to cope with his newfound godhood and the scene before him. “You all may be seated in the presence of the honorable Judge Kal-Mondu. Mister... Lincoln. Ah, I see you have quite an impressive little resume here. Even pre-transcendence, you’ve staked quite a mighty claim to fame for yourself! They informed you of why you’re in this specific courtroom today, correct?” The powerful, booming voice wasn’t echoing through the nearly empty golden courtroom. Instead it was beaming directly into the minds of the present parties from a sight unlike anything he had seen in his 56 years under the name of Abraham Lincoln. Pacing around a large floating circular platform where the judges bench would normally be was a miniature version of a fully grown moose wearing a powdered wig and a black judge’s robe draped across the first half of its body. Other than the fact that he stood only about one-third of a meter tall with antlers radiating a faintly glowing, crackling golden energy that almost seemed to be faintly singing a song unlike anything Earth was capable of producing, the moose seemed completely like an ordinary moose. There’s an awkwardly lengthy silence as Abe, normally a gifted orator finds himself at a loss for words. It didn’t happen often, but all he could seem to do was stare blankly at the tiny moose that was telepathically administering the proceedings in this most odd courtroom. “Mister Lincoln? Did Death and your appointed Purgattorney inform you of the responsibility you’re about to undertake? You’ve been recognized as worthy of reclaiming your godly title as Odin, the All-father of the Norse pantheon of gods.” Ta’thes, the sharp-dressed being appointed to represent Abe elbowed him in the ribs with just enough force to break him out of his stupor. “I’m sorry, your... Honor. Yes, however I’m still not certain on many of the details,” he said as he rubbed his sore ribs, “So apparently I was Odin, ruler of the gods... In a past life? And I’ve lived a couple of lives since then? And how did Odin die? I’m not very caught up on my mythologies of the ancient peoples of my world.” “It has always been you, Mister Lincoln. There was an... Incident to say the least, which is almost more than I’m at liberty to say by decree of the Cosmic Elders but you have lived approximately lived through 16 lifetimes after your death as Odin including your current Lincoln persona.” Sixteen times he had been brought back from the grave, but as an entirely different person? Or had he always been his current self just with a different name? He had to know, and a courtroom of the damned seemed like the best place to get his answers. “I’m sorry, sixteen times? Is there, perhaps, a way I could... See into my past selves? I honestly just need to see it for myself, your honor. Not that I doubt you’re telling me the truth, but...” “That’s actually part of the process for reclaiming your divinity, Mister Lincoln. All we need is the documents which give your consent. Ta’thes?” “Of course, your honor! And might I say, that wig is really bringing out the shine in your antlers!” Ta’thes teleported up to the bench with the documents Abe had hastily signed with a quick glance over of the details. The judge skimmed through the pages without lifting a finger, nodding and muttering contentedly. “Good, everything seems to be in order! I am however going to need you to sign this additional clause that just states that if anything... Unsavory should happen, you will forfeit your godly power and resign yourself to the fate that would normally be assigned to Abraham Lincoln,” Kal-Mondu’s antlers glowed bright with golden energy as he presented one last document in front of Abe out of thin air. “To be fair, that’s not a bad fate in the slightest. I’m pretty sure you’d go to-“ A loud static crackling cut off the judge’s telepathic statement, which jarred Abe, but brought a smile to Ta’thes’ face. “I-I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you, it cut out with a... Well I don’t know what that was, frankly.” “Ah, I forgot about the Feedback. It’s been a loooong time since we’ve done one of these proceedings. Don’t worry about it, young mortal,” Kal-Mondu had a little chuckle as Abe tried to read the page in front of him, but was clearly struggling. “You’ll also find that the specifics of what can cost you your holy essence are also blurred out. It’s entirely for your safety and the safety of the known universe.” “Trust me, you’d have to royally screw up on a massive scale to get knocked back down to mortal status. Have a little faith, I wouldn’t have you sign anything detrimental to your soul. I’m your personal Purgattorney, after all. I’ll be here to help you out on your journey, think of me as more of a... Spiritual advisor!” Ta’thes whispered into Abe’s ear before offering his hand to shake. Abe had always fancied himself a good judge of character and the look of supreme confidence and the bright, warm energy he felt from Ta’thes as he extended his hand sealed the deal for Abe. He was ready to get started. “Let us proceed!” The handshake was as strong as the stroke of the flaming feathered pen Abe used to sign his name as boldly as John Hancock on the final document standing between him and all the information he never knew he needed until now. “Great, everything’s in order! Now, Mister Lincoln... Close your eyes. Take a few deep breaths. This is going to be an intense experience.” Within seconds, Abe felt his very soul being tugged backwards, through the chair he was sitting in, down through the floor, and through the void of space. He was accelerating faster and faster, but the ride was so smooth, he barely felt like he was moving at all. At first, all was silent, but then he awoke to the sounds of his younger brothers Vili and Ve fighting the roaring, snarling father of the Frost giants, Ymir in the endless void of space. As soon as he joins in the battle, he’s flung forward, finding himself and his brothers finishing up the creation of the mortal world with the giant’s remains and creating the first humans. It’s a proud moment for Odin... Or was it Abe? In his infinite pursuit for knowledge for all, he went through the agonizing process of stabbing himself with his spear and hanging himself from Yggdrasil, the World Tree for nine days to gain the deep knowledge of runes, magic, and other secrets of the universe. Abe had never felt too stubborn to ask for help before, but as he clung in the balance between life and death, he refused all attempts to aid him. He had to prove his worth and do it himself. Once it was over, he could feel the wisdom coursing through his very being, but it was never enough. To this end, he gave his eye to the ancient entity Mimir to drink of the very same well that had shown him the meaning and form of the runes. Many may have thought him reckless, but nobody could ever say Odin wasn’t one of the wisest beings in all of creation. Then he found himself sitting in a throne as he proudly looked over a land of gold and untold beauty that was both foreign and oddly comforting. It was Asgard, home of the gods. His home. He saw the births of all five of his sons: Thor, Baldr, Hodr, Vidar and Vali. His friends and family in this heavenly city were his true pride and joy. Their adventures, their trials, their failures. But suddenly, a most unpleasant thought crept into his mostly joyous revisiting of his past. Thor had just received his trusty hammer, Mjolnir and was giving it a few test throws. Frigg, his wife, smiled down at Odin, trying to comfort him as his least favored immortal handed him a golden spear of the finest craftsmanship know to man or god alike. It was Loki who was doling out the gifts, no doubt trying to win over the favor of the gods once more after some horrible prank gone wrong. The very thought of Loki brought forth a searing, blinding, all-encompassing rage that Abe had never felt before. Odin, on the other hand, was all too familiar with it. “What have you done this time, Loki?” Odin asked as he inspected the perfect spear inscribed with the name “Gungnir” in runes. Odin could feel it’s power just by holding it. He had deciphered that it would never miss its intended target and that it could pierce the very heavens if that was his wish. The trickster was obviously trying to cover up for something seriously wicked this time. “Ah, well... It’s nothing too terrible, most beneficent All-Father... I may have tried to create life in the same way that you create. A humble homage to your most skilled use of magic, really.” “What. Did. You. DO???” Abe could feel something strange in the air. Something was seriously wrong. Before Loki could answer for himself, the entire front wall of the throne room was blown apart with enough force for all but the strongest of the beings in attendance to be blown back. Standing before the royal court were three massive beings. Odin knew these uninvited guests very well. The first was a wolf with a bloodlust in its eyes unmatched by anything he’d ever seen before on any of the thousands of battlefields he’d been on or overseen. The second was a serpent longer than the naked eye could measure with fangs that dripped an acidic venom that could eat through the very foundation of Asgard. And lastly was a goddess of immense beauty... Partially at least. Half of her face was bloated and blue, almost like a corpse found at sea. Although she seemed almost bored with this little invasion, she was still nonetheless, a threat. “You fool,” Odin spat in Loki’s direction before starting to bark orders to the other gods as only a true leader could, “Thor, Baldr, Heimdall! Take care of the wolf. Bind him if you must and keep away from his maw! Tyr, help me get rid of the serpent! Frigg, Idun, make sure nobody gets touched by that goddess. Don’t touch her yourself, she’ll be the death of us all if she gets past you two!” Everyone jumped into action almost immediately. Thor launched his hammer into the wolf, called Fenrir, with enough force to knock him back out of the royal hall. As he and the other gods ran past, trying to avoid the snapping fangs of the serpent, called Jormungandr, Odin was already in the action. He had teleported to the end of the monstrous reptile so that he could stab his spear through the tip of its tail with a piercing strike charged with all of the paralyzing magic he could summon. The snake started flailing and writhing wildly enough to cause powerful earthquakes, making it hard for Tyr to get a clear shot at its head with his sword. Just as he was about to connect, however, Fenrir came out of nowhere. Though he had golden ropes around him, they hadn’t had a chance to tie him properly before he leapt over them to bite Tyr’s sword-wielding hand clean from his wrist. “NOOOO!!!” Odin screamed as he used every ounce of his godly might to cast the serpent down to Midgard. His mind raced as fast as his instant movement back to his fallen friend. He had seen this before and tried to do everything in his power to stop it, but the universe has a way of getting what it wants. With Tyr’s hand gone, Hel, the quiet goddess broke her silence as Odin approached, “You know what this means, All-Father. Events have been set in motion that cannot be undone. If you don’t want everyone here to die an early death, I suggest you give me what I am owed.” She had both arms raised, and in her hands she held the wrists of both Idun and Frigg. She was slowly draining their life energies from them. Odin knew she was the goddess of death, she would eventually be the end of all of them. “Take your dominion, foul witch. Just leave my family and I to grieve and recover.” Odin waved a hand and opened a portal to a plane of existence he had access to, but rarely ever visited: The realm of the dead. As she stepped inside, Hel let out a wicked, hollow cackle that chilled Odin to his very core. Thor had finally secured the savage beast with a mess of the finest Dwarven forged chains. Fenrir was locked up in the deepest, darkest cave they could find, hidden far away from the other realms to hopefully never bother the gods again. Odin knew that was a hope that he couldn’t hold out for. He had seen Ragnarok and the gears had already been put into motion. All of a sudden, he was back in the courtroom of Kal-Mondu, hyperventilating from the strenuous nature of living thorough a multiple thousands of years in a matter of seconds. And he hadn’t even finished the story as far as he could tell. “Wow, you never get used to how fast the physical changes take place when you gods start getting your memories back. The rest will start slowly spilling into your memory as you keep cultivating your divine energy with meditation and practicing using your gifts and skills. There are only a few rules that have to be followed. No starting a religion based around yourself. No killing mortals without reason. There are certain exceptions, of course, but Ta’thes will be in charge of making sure you know before you do anything that could get you in trouble,” Abe was still trying to get his bearings when a portal opened up in front of him that he instinctively knew would take him back to Earth. He could “see” information about everything in front of him with his newfound godly sight and senses. It was almost too much for him, but he eventually found himself breathing rhythmically, albeit against his will at first. “It’s going to be okay, Odin. Just remember to breathe and it’ll all work itself out. Now if you would be so kind, please step through this portal. You’ll find yourself back on Earth seven years after your death, in the year 1872. It sounds arbitrary, but there’s a reason to it. Oh, and don’t forget your personal effects!” In a flash of golden light, Abe was now holding a bag containing a golden-hued wooden rod of about (12 inches) which he knew to be Gungnir in its dormant state, a flask full of the Mead of Poetry, an eyepatch, a rune-covered pipe made of pure silver, and a bag full of a set of runestones he had obtained from the Norns themselves that could help him predict the future with unwavering certainty. “And remember, if you have any questions about anything at all, call out to Ta’thes and he’ll assist you with anything he’s LEGALLY allowed to. Now get going, you’ve got a new life to live!” With that final note, he was pushed by an invisible force into back into the world he had been dead to just a few short hours, rather years, ago. Odin bolted upright, panting and sweating profusely in an itchy cot. The temperature had decreased dramatically from when he was last awake, and upon taking stock of his surroundings, he found himself being watched from a desk by a man in a white ten-gallon hat with a red Caduceus embossed on the front of it. “Ahh, yer up! I was beginning to think you might’ve died on us. Not a pulse to be found as far as I could see. But your breathing was there, so I just figgered you needed to sleep it off. The boss is expecting you, so just make your way out towards the campfire out on your left.” “Much thanks, doctor. I assume he awaits with my effects?” “Indeed he does. He’s taken quite the interest in you. Don’t keep him waiting, now. I’d escort you, but I’ve got to finish pennin’ this here letter to my dear ol’ maw.” “Odin got a strange flash of an image as the man spoke of his mother. She was sick, on her deathbed and reading his letters brought a genuine smile to her face right as she passed on.” “You alright there, pardner? You look like ye just saw a ghost er somethin’.” “What is your name, good sir?” “Well everyone calls me Doc Thurgood, but why does that-“ “Jeremiah Thurgood, I don’t know how to tell you this, but your mother is in a rough condition. She hasn’t much time left, but your letters are one of her only sources of joy. I know not where you hail from, but... You should go back to see her at once. Post your notice of arrival and head out with the utmost haste.” All of the color had faded from the doctor’s face at hearing this. He’d known his mother was constantly fighting for her health, it was part of the reason he had set out for California in the first place all those months ago, but to hear from this lanky stranger they’d picked up in the desert heat that she was about to pass... He didn’t know what to make of it. The dead serious look painting Odin’s face told him he wasn’t joking, and he felt trusting of him almost instinctually. “T-thank ya stranger, I will make the arrangements right away.” Without another word, Odin nodded and headed out of the tent into the chilly desert night. A sharp wind cut him to his bones, causing a shiver in his godly form that he couldn’t recall ever feeling in his past life, even in combat atop the snowy peaks of Jotunheim. He clearly wasn’t at full strength, and getting those apples would be the only way he’d ever truly feel like himself. He had no troubles finding his way to the campfire where he saw a dozen silhouettes eating and relaxing in the light of the roaring fire. He could see the genuine camaraderie between this group of wildly different characters, and a tear rolled down his cheek as the memories of those cheerful banquets in Asgard’s golden halls began to flood back to him. “You’re lookin’ more than a little famished, son of Borr. Perhaps I could interest you in a bite?” a familiar voice caused the blood pumping through Odin’s veins to run as cold as the nights in Jotunheim. “Loki. You shall not escape my wrath this time!” Odin turned expecting to see his oldest foe and as such, had readied himself to attack, pivoting with every intention to smite with all of his remaining godly might. However, the statuesque woman from earlier chomping into a golden apple brought his swing to a screeching halt. “You can go ahead and kill me, but there are 12 highly skilled marksmen that would follow you to the ends of the Earth, and you are quickly losing steam. I can help. I can lead you to the apples and you can continue living your immortal, righteous little life. But I have demands, ‘All-Father’.” Odin’s brow furrowed as he took a long pause to contemplate if he was falling for another trick. His eye darted back and forth, trying to find the truth in Loki’s unwavering stare. His search turned up neither truth nor deception, which worried him far more than he was expecting. “Better alive and betrayed than dead for good, I guess.