The Gods have gathered in the Council of Valhalla and have decided that it's humanity's time to face judgement day. However one man, King Solomon, has a plan to save them.
This is a collaborative project involving many people including myself
Art th...
In the grand arena, cheers could be heard all over from both gods and mortals. This would be a glorious, or for most mortals, a gruesome fate. Ragnarok was about to begin.
"And now ladies, gentlemen, gods and mortals alike. The final showdown between god and man will begin!" Thoth said as he and Crowley were riding a flying chariot in the sky over the battleground. "The epic battles, chivalrous fighters-"
"The gruesome deaths!" Crowley interjected with a loud yell.
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Yes, and gruesome deaths." Thoth sighed before picking up the mic once again. "And now, without further ado, the first fighter for heaven is this GOD!"
Entrance Theme:
The sound of trumpets echoed through the subliminal day, the sky bordering on a spliced horizon of pink and blue. The sun has not moved even an inch from its previous position, having stayed stagnant even after the hour of sunrise this day.
Immediate silence shook the arena, as though the melody of the gods had stolen their voice.
"Trumpets?"
"No..." Waves of disbelieving whispers swept through the stands, "It can't be..." All the gods trembled in their seats.
The Angelic hymn did not halt. More trumpets lined up perfectly side to side, until the numbers were filled to the thousands, until the sacred hymnody flowed and trembled through the realm of Valhalla.
A single figure descended into the arena.
"Oh my. He is here, that can only mean one thing." Thoth realized.
"Old Luke's compensating for something." Crowley sniggered as his head was whacked.
His name was Metatron, the Divine Herald. And with a booming voice, he proclaimed to all the beings present in this gloried deathmatch, sweeping his arm towards the entrance of the god's gate. Not a single being, man or god, could find themselves in movement, eyes fixated on this man. Underneath their skin, a hint of unease crept upwards, tingling like the trembling arena.
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