Something is moving, quickly. Past endless stars and lingering gas clouds, an objects speeds. Near invisible to the naked eye. Even if you were equipped with some kind of lense, you might only catch for a split second, the head and tail of something resembling a comet. There is no sound, the object makes no aetherial whirr, no...anything. The object is surrounded by a thin sheet of yellow dazzle. This is what seems to carry it along, to push it through space
But on inspection, this object isn't a comet or meteoroid. It isn't another chunk of space rock floating dully back and forth. It's a hammer, a weapon. And is easily distinguishable as such, no one in their right mind would dare to try and construct anything with this deformed gavel. It has a long handle and a wide head, with two tapered edges. One in the shape of a pyramid, and the other a flat square face. At the end of the handle is a small loop, and where the handle meets the head is a leather band, wrapped around the handle itself. Made from a dull metal resembling iron, you might easily confuse it for stone. It's named Brotifold. It is a weapon of Asgard.
The hammer has travelled across the cosmos for a long time. Taking an eternity to pass even the highest branches of Yggdrasil, yet still travelling fast enough to be but a passing spec to every other inhabitant, of every other planet, of other every other star. But it has finally reached somewhere...somewhere familiar. In the blink of an eye, the hammer leaves interstellar space and zips through the icy innards this system's Oort cloud. The outermost bodies; passed. The asteroid belt; passed. Now in its trajectory is a planet. A blue world seemingly sparse of continents. It slams into the atmosphere, its yellow surface engulfed by a fiery orange. The hammer races toward the ground.
The landscape below is quiet. Insects sing and animals grunt among the forested and craggy terrain. Both the landscape and quiet are then shattered. A fireball erupts high above the ground. Trees crack and splinter, showering their surroundings with needles of wood and pine. Grasses and shrubs burn. The entire forest is flattened for miles on end,
In the crater stands Brotifold, intact. An eerie air is left by the impact. There are no sounds, except for the distance crack of fires and distressed birdsong. An ambient camouflage slips across the hammer's surfaces. It disappears into the daylight.
Stone cracks. Bone snaps. The story begins.