Feeling Hammered (Open)

Participants: Jane Foster /Open
Open/Closed: Open
Location(s): Asgard of old
Time of Day: Mid-afternoon
Weather: Warm, with a cool breeze
Summary: Set in the past, during Jane's tenure as Thor, the God of Thunder has saved Manhattan from a rampaging frost giant. Returning it to the dungeons below Asgard, Foster now seeks liquid sustenance in the form of Asgardian ale. Drinking games certainly lie ahead, as might conflict...

Thor strode tired and worn toward the palace of Asgard. Her body ached, from her shoulders to her feet, and her armour was chipped in areas about her person. Her lower lip, already dark as a bruise thanks to her Asgardian colouring, had been split, leaking a tell-tale trail of blood that dripped to her chin, and numerous welts were clear against her bare, muscled arms. She had been through quite the ordeal – and Jane Foster, whose human form was growing weaker by the day, relished every ache and pain. They reminded her she was still alive, that she had not yet given in, that she had been, at least in one body, triumphant.

Behind her, bound by a long rope, was hauled a hulking monstrosity – a beast clad in thick, iced armour. Despite its sheer size, Jane dragged it with ease, and it lay totally still as she pulled it across the bifrost, and remained so as it entered the city. Civilians gasped and pointed as it was pulled through the streets, and by the time she'd reached the palace walls, quite a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle.

She heard the whispers as onlookers pointed and stared, and she instantly knew the subject on which they spoke, even though they did so in hushed tones. Her appearance, she was happy to admit, was confusing. It confused even her. When wielding the hammer Mjolnir, Jane's weak body was changed into that of the Asgardian God of Thunder – albeit with a more feminine form. For so long, the people of Earth and of Asgard had known the name Thor Odinson: seeing a female entity with his hammer, calling forth storms as he once had, was, no doubt, a shock to many.

Then, there were the questions: was she the Thor? If not, where was the Odinson? Was she an Avenger? Was she Asgardian? Was she worthy? That last question Jane had asked herself more than once, and there was no set answer. She was worthy for as long as she proved herself to be – no longer.

But in that moment, she had no doubt in her mind. She had, after all, just saved Manhattan from a rebellious frost giant. Without her aid, hundreds of lives could have been lost. That, she felt, helped ascertain her worth.

Stopping outside the palace gates, Thor waited for guards to step forth. Upon their cautious arrival, she stepped forward and nodded back to the ice-wreathed behemoth, who still had not moved. “One for the keep,” she stated boldly, referring to the vast dungeons below the city, in which enemies of Asgard were locked.

More guards appeared at her announcement, and rushed toward the beast, looking at how best to shift its monstrous bulk. They were, after all, not quite as strong as the God in their midst. While they worked, Jane glanced about the assembled crowd and took a step toward them. Then, with a weary sigh, she made a request.

“Anyone who guides me to ale would have my eternal gratitude.” She needed a drink, and since her first relationship with the Odinson years before, she'd become quite partial to taste of Asgardian mead. Upon weilding the hammer herself, she'd become even more attuned to the beverages of the Aesir. It was no wonder the first Thor had drunk quite so much.