Part 1

The day Alex died, and the next few following happened over two years ago. Ever since then, I'd accepted my heritage and began seeking out people who could tell me anything. I asked an odd pair of a dwarf and a elf that lived as homeless people in Boston, but all they said was they were sorry it happened. But I had a feeling they were hiding something. I'd continued to ask an old man who was apparently a Norse enthusiast who also lived in Boston. When I mentioned losing my sister, he shut the shutters of his office and said in a raspy voice, "My nephew...he was taken by Surt, the fire giant. If you ever find him, tell him I'm sorry this all happened." I promised I would, but I knew I wouldn't ever meet him. So after that, I had not a single lead. I went to Alex's gravesite, which some people in Boston had nicknamed 'Hell's Tree'. Most of the public ignores it, however. But some of the edgy types treat it as a shrine and leave small offerings, sometimes toys, other times money. My favorite is food, mainly because I get to eat it.

But that day something else happened, when I reches the site, I found a man in a heavy wool jacket and a matching pair of pants, boots, and gloves. His hair was wild, completely tangled and eaually red. His beard was in an equally horrendous state, it's red locks braided on each side though. On his hip was an empty sheath that looked as if it carried some sort of one-handed weapon.

I chose to ignore his presence, standing on the right side of the grave, letting the flames melt the layer of snow that had grown on my jacket and bare arms. I never said a word, nor did I look his direction.

Eventually however, the man sighed. "Your welcome for the stick."

I raised an eyebrow, as it had been roughly a year and a half since the day I dug the grave and my memory had become a bit hazy. Excepting the moment I saw Alex's death, which was burned into my memory and was my nightly nightmare. But after a moment I remembered how the fire was started, "Oh right. Thanks, but if you want to talk, I want to do it in a different place."

The man, whom I suspected to be Thor, the god of thunder, nodded. "Meet at that Falafel place in Boston when you're ready. But do try to be there within an hour, it's urgent." The man disappeared in a flash of lightning, which blinded me for a moment and left the faint smell of burnt hair lingering in the air.

I spent the next few minutes shutting my eyes and breathing in the smell of burning wood. I eventually turned back and, giving the grave one last look, started walking back toward Boston. I had a nagging feeling that I wouldn't se ethe grave for some time.

When I'd eventually found the place the god had mentioned, it had already been half an hour. I found the man inside drinking from a coffee cup that steaming in the night, and looked childishly small in his giant hand. He nodded as I entered the store and gestured for me to sit across from him.

The moment I sat down, a waitress sat a steaming cup in front of me. I took it as the god ordering for me, so I nodded my head as I took a sip. "Hot cocoa. Not a bad choice."

The god smirked underneath his bushy beard, "Sinple tastes, but a goal ever so complicated. Tell me, have you figured out who I am?"

I nodded my head, taking another sip of the cocoa. "You're the god of thunder. Which begs the question, where's your mighty Mjolnir?"

The god was about to say something, but he stoppes when I asked the question. He raised an eyebrow, "You're a observant one, aren't you? That's why I came to you, actually. I have an offer, one that I promise to not forget to keep my side of."

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, I was genuinely intrigued by the god's comment on his duty to return the favor. "Go on."

The god seemed satisfied with my answer and he continued, "I need someone to find my hammer and stall their plans long enough for me and Odin to track them and teleport there to reclaim it. I don't trust the kids they keep sending from Valhalla, so I'd rather send someone I know will at least put it to good use if they take it for themselves." The god downed the rest of his drink.

I grimaced, "The catch is who stole it, correct? You talk as if I wpuld take it and immediately use it for something. Tell me who."

The god grumbled something about annoying demigods, then he said, "The trickster stole it. He's using it as a dowry to pledge the allegiance of the giants. I can't tell you who is being used in this twisted marriage, but I can tell you they aren't guilty enough of anything this wretched."

"Hm. I'll need a weapon. If I'm taking on actual threats, and possibly a highly skilled group of einherjar, my fists won't be enough." I drew a small shape in the air, one of a sword and one of a shield. "I also need armor, if I had a group I could depend on someone to have my back. And I prefer not to work with people, so my back is vulnerable wothout a layer of steel covering it."

The god roared in laughter, startling the waitress who was taking the orders of a raven-haired boy and a blonde girl in the next booth over. "Smart kid. I've got an armory I'll take you to, but I think I have a set of gear that'll suit you perfectly. But for now, is that a confirmation?"

"If I get a suit of gear out of it, a weapon, and a cup of hot cocoa, deal." I smirked, extending my hand for a shake.

The god chuckled, "Hold on, we'll be there in a flash." He took my hand and instantly I felt my body shatter as we were blasted by a strike of lightning.

The store was left completely dumbfounded, as the mist covering their eyes didn't hide the fact a lightning bolt just evaporated two customers, while also leaving fifty mortal dollars to pay for the drinks and a tip.

Oddly, the raven-haired boy was now holding something that glinted strangely in the light of the moon. It almost looked to me like a sword, but I decided that I was probably misinterpreting what I saw.

We were reformed, still shaking hands, in a large golden room that had racks and rack and more racks of a wide assortment of weaponry. And on the other sid eof the enormous room was a line of manequins all showing off complete suits of armor, some made from hides and metal, others made from some sort of dark red scales.

What caught my eye wasn't a shiney greatsword, not even a battle worn axe. But a small unassuming polearm tossed in the corner hapahazardly, as if it wasn't even worth mounting.

Thor raised an eyebrow as I approached the pile and retrieved the polearm. "Misjudgement. It's a rather fitting name and place. I place it in the corner in case someone happens to see its worth. Its form remains as a simple stick, but under the roght wielder it can transform into a number of weapons. Or more accurately, it's ends can transform. Try to imagine it as a twinblade, a pole with two swords on the ends."

I imagined holding a weapon that I'd only seen in movies or games, which was a polearm capped on both ends by a pair of double-edged swords. And to my amazement, the polearm's solid ends began to shift forms until they were the exact form I'd imagined. I twirled the new twinblade in my hand, accidentally putting a gash in the golden and marble floor. "My bad."

The god of thunder howled in laughter, "Don't worry kid, I'm proud that someone could finally use the thing. It's been sitting there for over a hundred centuries. It's been itching for some blood." The god then gestured to the wall of manequins and armor, "Now for a set of armor to match the stick."

I twiled the twinblade around, occasionally practicing shifting it's forms between a polearm, spear, twinblade, and even a double-bladed scythe. I eventually allowed it to return to it's normal staff form and wallked toward the suits of armor, using it as a walking stick. I studied suits of armor that looked at if they'd be a nightmare to use, and even a suit of armor that looked as if it came from a erotic magazine. And each set of armor looked a nightmare to wear while having to maneuver the polearm around. But eventually, I found a suit of armor that piqued my interest, and looked comfortable to use with Misjudgement.

The amor was essentially light clothes, a sleeveless turtleneck top, and a pair of pants that resembled samurai leggings, except skinnier. The normalness ended there, as the rest was made ot of some sort of yellow, blue, and green furs and scales. On the left shoulder was a small spike that was stained by blood on the tip, and around the waist was a coil made from a similar material, but had a large sheathe for a polearm across the back. On it's face was a animalistic mask, one that resembled a canine, but had golden fur with light tan and green scales. It's eye holes were covered in a hard layer of material that resembled a pair of piercing lightning-blue eyes that seemed to, and actually did, follow me as I moved around it. I smirked while looking at the god of thunder, "Got one in my size?"

The god grinned, "I knew you'd choose that one. Lemme refit it for you, bud don't worry about your clothes. I'll see them cleaned an returned to you when you've returned my hammer." He glanced my over, taking a few steps around me to do a measurement of my body size. And when he had stopped, he snapped his fingers and I felt my own clothes disintegrate and were replaced by the armor I saw on the manequin, perfectly refitted for my smaller body. I reached up, feelinf the mask on my face, and with a grin I took off the mask. "Alright, fill me in on the details."