The Starlight wrote:Previously in Renascence Eternal...And when she awoke, she did not see the halls of Valhalla, nor feasting warriors. She did not greet Thor and Odin and Sif and Volstagg in that Hall of the Slain, to feast everlasting until that day when they would return, triumphant. But instead, she felt wood at her back, and she turned, to see the World-Tree in perfect condition. Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked around, absolutely bewildered.
Valka Silverhand
Renascence Eternal - Undeath
Renascence Eternal - Undeath
The All-Mother glanced up at the old yet ever-new leaves of the World-Tree, a frown growing on her face. This...was impossible. All the prophecies spoke of Valhalla, she herself had been there several times, during Ragnaroks and also as a Valkyrie. The very order of their existence had been altered, and she did not know how this would affect the sons and daughters of Asgard. If Valhalla was gone, what glory was there to be achieved in death?
Valka looked up, seeing Thor holding out a hand. "What brings you to the World-Tree, my friend? Art thou alright?" he asked. Taking the hand, she lifted herself up, brushing the soil off her legs. "Tell me, Thor, when was the last Ragnarok?" The Odinson gave her a confused glance, but answered nonetheless, "Not since the End of All Things? Are you sure that you are alright?" he asked again.
"That is...strange," she murmured to herself, before replying to Thor. "Perhaps it was just a dream of mine, my friend. I shall be well." she said firmly, stopping the conversation in its tracks, before changing to subject to Jane Foster. The two warriors walked the streets of the Golden City, Valka fiddling with an alloy of metal in her hands as she listened to Thor speak of the fair Midgardian he had fallen for.
A few days later, four to be exact, the All-Mother, dining with the Valkyries and a few other Asgardians, looked up at the sky. "So it goes," she said, her back to her guests as she gazed up at the sky, a cup of elderberry wine lightly grasped. "What goes, my lady?" asked Sif. "Ragnarok. The leaves of fate whisper of doom once again, and something dark stirs in the breeze. The animals burrow into the ground and the birds fly, fly away. For it is coming." she spoke in a eerie voice none of them had ever heard before from the Goddess of Metal.
And as soon as those last words left her lips, Asgard was enveloped into darkness, for Solveig, the sun had fallen, and the Moon would be next. These were the first signs of their end. And so it was upon that day, Ragnarok came. Valka assembled the armies of Asgard, and gave her speech in the throne room, the same speech she had spoken 4 days ago, the speech for the Ragnarok no one seemed to be remember. But this time, she determined that this time, she would fight alongside her children in all their battles, and the prophecies be damned. And when the time had come, the All-Mother worked to save her children, ordering them to fight alongside each other and not survive. This time, many more, including Thor, survived, and it seemed that it was over, when that mysterious figure, in her three-colored armor, parted the armies once more, the same sword in her hand.
Thor swung his hammer, and Sif readied her sword, the two of them about to charge, when Valka put out an arm in front of them. "I say to thee, my dear friends, nay. She is here for me, and I alone must fight her. This is not prophecy, this is fate." Ignoring their protests, she stepped forward lightly, Gungnir in one hand of flesh, her sword of uru, Oathbringer, in her hand of metal. And so, the Silverhand and the Woman with the Voice of Many fought. Their feet danced upon the golden streets of Asgard, in the fiery depths of Musphelheim, and upon the mountains of ice in Jotunheim. At last they fought beneath the canopy of stars and the Asgardians gazed upon as they beheld flashes of gold and grey. But this was not a battle the All-Mother could win. First, on Asgard, it rained helmets. Or rather, one, winged, Valkyrie helmet. After that, from the sky came a hand of uru and a broken sword. And then, it rained blood, and finally, an All-Mother. She coughed up blood, blinking up at the worried faces of the Asgardians. "My sword." she said, her voice a croak, Thor handing the broken Oathbringer to her. "Damn. I lost again." she said, before breath escaped from her lips for the last time. And everything disappeared in a flash of white once again, and she found herself sitting on the grass, with her back against the World-Tree.
And this cycle continued, until 6 Ragnaroks had passed. She had died each time to the woman who spoke as if she was more than one person, sometimes quicker than others. She had used all of her skill and even fellow Asgardians, but the result was the same. Waking up against the World-Tree once again, she took Thor's hand again, and occupied herself, hoping that the cycle had broken. For she was tired of death now, and in truth it was not death anymore. There was no rest, no slumber for her. There was only renascence eternal.
And when the armies of Asgard had assembled, still Valka remained in upon her dais-risen throne, appearing to be deep in though. An Einherjar poked his head in, and seeming a bit nervous, spoke up. "All-Mother! The army is ready! We await your order, my lady." Valka looked up, noticing him for the first time. "Very well. The order is given. Thor shall lead the armies." she said, grasping the ever-present Gungnir, and standing up, turning to leave.
"But..." he began, a fiery gaze from the All-Mother silencing him. He quickly bowed, and strode out, meaning to find Thor, to get him to have the Silverhand lead them. A short while later, Thor strode in, with a confused expression upon his face. "Valka! You are the All-Mother. You must lead us!" he shouted out, Valka turning once more. " I am All-Mother," she said softly, but with a hint of warning in her tone. As Thor realized his error, and prepared to speak once more, she lifted up a hand. "There is nothing to forgiven, my friend. Rather I seek yours, for I spoke out of anger and frustration. Thor, I tell only thee this. The Ragnarok Cycle is broken. I have died 6 times by the same sword. And I will not die a seventh. This is no dream, no hallucination, but truth. I go to consult the World-Tree." she said, Thor gaining a sense of comprehension.
"I understand, my friend," said the golden-haired Asgardian. "Fight well, and prophecy be damned, Thor, keep the Asgardians together. Fight as one, not many. That is your only hope for survival while I am here. Go on the defensive, here, seal off Asgard once you can fight no longer and slowly retreat into the innards of the city. Heimdall will know how to activate the statues so that they might fight for you. I have also given access over the Destroyer, it will follow your bidding now. Do not be afraid to use it, with a strong will as yours, supplemented by the Odinforce, there is nothing to fear. I have a feeling that a journey is about to begin, but I shall return, my friend. This I swear," she said, placing a fist over her heart and bowing her head.
Whistling, one of the last winged horses in the universe, Salvistar, Rider of Winds, appeared before them, the mighty horse grunting once in greeting to Valka, in the horse-tongue. She ran a hand over his ever soft hair, feeling the muscles that pulsed beneath it, and smiled. "Thank you for coming, my friend. Will you bear me once more?" she asked, Thor having departed for the battle. Salvistar seemed to nod and she mounted him, beckoning him to the World-Tree. Once there, she dismounted, walking slowly before that tree from which the life of planets beat. "What has happened to Ragnarok?" she asked it, in a clear, but authoritative voice. The leaves stirred slightly, but there was no answer. She asked many questions, growing angrier by the minute, until she had had enough, and set her hand flame, the leaves definitely reacting to this. "I would not usually resort to such methods, World-Tree, but I will have my answers!" she promised, half-reluctantly bringing her flaming hand closer and closer to the Tree.
And then she heard the distinctive sound of a portal opening, to her right. She looked upon it, confused, and then nodded to the World-Tree. "You have my thanks, and my apologies," before she stepped through, Oathbringer's metal already slightly showing from its sheath, as she did not know where she was going. And she was even more confused as she reached her destination. There seemed to be nothing below, or above, and yet, she was in a room, Valka sensed, with nothing in it. She quickly turned as a voice spoke, "Why have I been summoned?"
Her eyes widening in shock, Valka took off her helmet. "This cannot be..." she said, for before Valka was an aged version of herself. This other version of herself carried no weapons, but there was a steel to her, and a stately elegance within her. The elder Valka was quite like herself, their face not being aged by lines or wrinkles, those same blue-gray eyes, but with streaks of actual silver throughout her hair.
"What cannot be?" asked another voice, both Valkas turning their heads simultaneously. And they beheld a third Valka, this one being younger than both of them. Her eyes still held the rage of youth, Oathbringer was leveled towards them, and moreover, both of her hands were of flesh. The elder Valkas glanced at each other and winced, memories of fire and blood assaulting them, All-Mother Valka clenching her uru hand until metal bled, the eldest Valka closing her eyes in remembrance. "And who are you?!"
The current Valka spoke. "Put away Oathbringer, young one." she said calmly. Instead, the tip of Oathbringer went to her throat. "How do you know my sword's name?" she asked in a fiery temper. The older Valkas looked at each other and chuckled, but remembering the wrath and rage of their youth. "I know that sword's name, because I forged in in the fires of Asgard. I am Valka Silverhand, the Goddess of Forging, Metal and Fire. And I dare not tell you more."
The youngest Valka put down her sword, gaping. "Impossible!" The eldest Valka shook her head. "Not so. Time takes a multitude of pathways, and there are infinite possibilities. I too am Valka, elder than both of you. We speak truth, Valka. This other Valka, cannot reveal all of her domains and titles, lest she risks disturbing our timelines. I cannot tell you anything, save I am Valka too. And since it is getting awkward to call ourselves all Valka, we must designate titles for ourselves."
"You," pointing to the young Valka, "shall be Valka the Fiery. The one who called us here, her, shall be Valka Silverhand," Silverhand holding up her hand in explanation. And I shall be Valka the Eternal, or Valka the Old." Valka the Fiery held a hand. "Wait, Why do you both possess hands of uru?", the other Valkas looking at each other. "It is a story of pain and battle, but one of necessary sacrifice," they spoke. "And it yielded many rewards."
Valka the Old looked to the Silverhand. "Why have we been summoned, now that the introductions have taken place she said." So Valka began her story, speaking of the Ragnarok cycle they had been trapped in and moreover, the woman. "Six times, have I fallen to this woman. Six!" she exclaimed, Fiery Valka's eyes widening at the figure. "I have attempted everything, and even Thor, Sif and others have joined me, to no avail. I even tried the Silver Feint!" she yelled, banging her hand on the materialized table. For the Silver Feint was a move invented by Valka that only she knew, and the precious few times Valka found it necessary to use it, the enemy had either been lying in a coma on the training ground, or already dead upon the ground, in the case of enemies.
All the meanwhile, the elder Valka's face grew paler and paler. She had hoped that this occurrence was something else, but this only confirmed her fears. It was happening, perhaps the greatest adventure she had ever taken. And the Silverhand could not fail, and while the Old Valka yearned to help, it could not be so. The youngest Valka noticed the consternation on her face. "Old woman! What is the matter?!!" she asked.
"You would refer to your older self as an old woman!?" Valka the Eternal hissed out. Taking a breath, she continued, chuckling. "But I am old, young me, very old indeed. But back to the matter of hand. I cannot help you. You, Silverhand are at a point in time where my aid would cause certain ruin to the universe. You cannot fail. For if you do, this is what happens," said the old Asgardian, pressing a finger to Silverhand's head, showing her potential visions of worlds broken, and light across the universe fading into darkness. Not a star was to be seen, and Silverhand beheld the death of almost all things. She could not fail. "I will not fail." she said softly to the Eternal Valka.
"See that you do not," said the silver-haired woman. "Odinspeed, to both of you." And then she disappeared, going back into a future where gods and men had been secured due to her actions several hundred years ago, the actions that Valka Silverhand was about to do.
Valka Silverhand looked to Valka the Fiery, a smile growing on her face. "You'll have to wear a mask, so that my Asgardians do not know that we are one and the same. And now, young Valka, shall we ride the winds together, and make the heavens fear our names?" her voice rising into a shout. The young Valka's voice was muffled due to the mask, but Silverhand heard her words nonetheless. "In the words of our beloved Vikings, Silverhand, Hel yeah!!" Oathbringer ringing as it was removed from its sheath. "Then, my friend, let us go. For death." Valka the Fiery nodded. "For eternity." Valka Silverhand nodded. "And FOR ASGARD!!!" they both shouted, the portal opening up again, the Valkas emerging, hearing sounds of battle by the Lake of Rememberance. They shared a grim smile, one of warriors and swordmates, as they charged into battle, war cries upon their lips.
They were two, but one, and they fought with the strength of many. Their swords flickered like flames as the Oathbringers pierced Dark Elf and Fire Demon alike. The two of them, alone, surrounded by foes, made their stand by the rock where Valka Silverhand had stood to send their dead to Valhalla after the War of Gods. An army of dead corpses enveloped them, and they were pressed even the more, and perhaps if there had been only one warrior there, any ordinary warrior that is, they would have been overwhelmed. But they were two, and moreover, they were Valkas. And Valkas do not fall. At long last Valka Silverhand jumped upon the rock when there were few enough foes for the Young Valka to handle. She ripped off her helm, throwing into the face of a lumbering Frost Giant, the wings of her helmet being razor-sharp. The Frost Giant did not rise again. And then she shouted, so that all of Asgard could hear her, thrusting her sword into the air, flames rising upon it into the heavens. "TO ME, ASGARDIANS! TO ME!!!!! FIGHT!"
The Asgardians saw their All-Mother, and they cheered, and rallied to her, the Silverhand hearing shouts of "VALKA! VALKA!" as the Einherjar and Valkyries fought their way through the thousands of foes assembled against them. They fought their way to the Valkas and together, they made their stand there, at the Rock of the Slain. All of them bled, but few, if any were slain, and slowly, but surely, they pushed with all their strength, their physical and mental strength renewed by the arrival of Valka.
Several hours later, when the battle appeared to have be won, the Valkas found Thor. "I did not think you would return so soon, my friend," he said, elated. "The journey is just beginning, my friend, I am afraid," said Valka Silverhand. "And who is this?" he asked Silverhand, referring to the younger Valka. "A friend," the Valkas spoke simultaneously, then gazing at each other as if they were twins. Thor was about to ask another question when Silverhand held up a hand. "Our real battle begins," she stated, unsheathing Oathbringer, Valka the Fiery doing the same as they strode towards the armored woman.
"We see that you have brought a friend, Valka Silverhand. You will die, no matter their presence. Such is your fate." said the multiple voices from one woman. "Does she always talk in the plural?" whispered Valka the Fiery, with a smile. "Every single time," was the response, Silverhand switching her sword to her left hand, the young Valka holding her sword in the opposite hand. That was part of the reason that the two of them were so dangerous, they seemed to be connected at the hip, but with none of the sluggishness that accompanied such attempts. Each knew the other instinctively, for the other person was themselves, and they could attack from two directions at once, or switch positions.
Valka the Fiery lived up to her name by attacking with a yell, bringing her sword down, forcing the armored woman to bring her sword up, giving Silverhand the opportunity to thrust forward for a quick defeat. But their opponent was too skilled that and blasted Silverhand away momentarily as she probed young Valka's defenses, the Silverhand rising and blocking a feint that her younger self had fallen for. The two Valkas edged away, discussing strategy. "She's good," admitted Valka the Fiery, albeit grudgingly. "I did warn you that she had killed me 6 times. Perhaps she is a deity of Swordsmanship? I've been working the enchantments to keep our swords from breaking, and it shall take everything I have, for she, or the sword possesses very strong, very potent magic." said Valka the Silverhand.
"Yes, she's good. But shall we show her why we're better?" Valka the Fiery said, as they headed back into the fight. And so, the three of them fought a sword-dance, rather, the Valkas danced, in perfect coordination, one on offense, one on defense, attacking from different sides, and all sorts of tactics they could attempt having the numerical advantage. Their opponents defenses remained strong, though they had drawn blood of some type. But in the end, the Valkas had the betterment of the swordswoman, and both parties began to realize that fact. Valka putting forth both her metal and Valkaforce powers, had managed to break the woman's pale sword, although it reformed moments later. She looked dumbfounded at it, and then turned and fled, shooting herself up into the realm of the skies. "Coward!" yelled Valka the Fiery.
"She's getting away while you insult her!" Silverhand cried as she mounted Salvistar, "Come my friend, we ride!"
And ride they did, upon the last horses of the sky. They rode underneath pale stars and planets, in the vacuum of space. A battle had been won, but the war was far from over, in fact, it was only in its beginning stages. Their foe had fled, but the Valkas were not inclined to let her do so, the momentum shifting to their court. And they would not be denied.
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