Tevun-Krus #24 - MythPunk

Mars Mountain and the Fate of the Gods - by @MadMikeMarsbergen

 MARS MOUNTAIN AND THE FATE OF THE GODS

A NOTE FROM THE NARRATOR (ME)

THE following has been translated from far too many languages to even begin listing them all. Or maybe I'm just too lazy. Hard to say. Time to "phone in" another tale, eh? Some words of warning, dearest reader: The Elhu no longer exist, so don't bother praying to them tonight before bed; when you enter the lottery draw; or when you want a certain douchebag politician to get hit by a bus. Sadly, the Elhu became a sterile race, and thus they died out -- one by one -- like the dinosaurs did before us, and the aquatic overlords before them. But we can still remember them, right? So, let's honour the fallen, whomever they may be, and read this tale, too. Don't forget that. Enjoy.

1: VIKING FANTASY

BLIZZARD winds numbed the faces of three intrepid Nordic men, who were slowly marching in the wake of some red-headed jackass with a pointy chin and a perpetual dopey grin plastered above said chin. Thankfully, these three Nordic men all had big blond beards, so that slightly helped matters. Oh, and they also readily slurped down steins of mead and ale and even mead mixed with ale -- and I don't need to tell you how that crap warms the blood, do I? No, I don't. Because you've got experience with that sort of thing, don't you? Yeah... You maybe imbibe just a tad too much of what we like to call "the Devil's dinner," yeah? You wish you could change, but you can't, so you won't, and so on, and on, and on. Pathetic.

Where was I? Oh, right -- the story.

Yes. So the Vikings trailed the ginger, because this ginger was actually their god. Well, one of their gods. You see, they were looking to divert their focus, give their collective attention to some other heavy-hitting deity. Everyone needs a change of pace sometimes, even worshippers of gods. So they'd decided to swap all their faith over to this other one. What was his name again? Ah, yes. His name was Loki, and he was a bit of a clown.

"Yo, Loki," one of the Vikings, Erik, said as he panted, coughing up foamy white phlegm. He was up to his nipples in snow, which was quite a feat, considering he actually had two more nipples right around where his shoulders met his neck. "Slow down a second, bro."

Ignoring his would-be devotee, Loki snapped his fingers and suddenly he was sitting upon a mule. The mule struggled to walk under the burden of a god (they weigh a ton). So Loki snapped his fingers again, and now he and the mule sat on a horse. The horse galloped onwards, carrying its cargo with ease, and Erik and the other two chumps were left in its dust... Snow.

I don't need to tell you how -- for a second, because one must only feel such an irreverent impulse for merely a second -- how annoyed they were with their new draft pick. Odin was quite wise and had taught them much. Thor was very strong and had helped them get big muscles. Frigg was friggin' hot and had posed nude for them on many occasions. But Loki... So far, Loki proved to be quite elusive. It was as if he didn't want them to worship him.

The three travellers trudged onward, birds tweeting beautifully and such, big black moose crapping and squirting hot piss all over the snow. They were led to an even more windy clearing. Massive, snow-covered green trees stood tall and surrounded them from afar, like sentinels of the land, the gods' own private army of nature. Night was beginning to fall, and with it came spooky-looking shapes of shadow and downright scary noises that stimulated the darkest recesses of the human imagination.

Laughing, Loki jumped off his mule-on-a-horse and snapped his fingers to kill the two creatures. They disappeared into the snow-blanketed ground, leaving red stains and hooves behind. He booted away a hoof, which then cracked off a tree. The tree went crashing to the ground, and an avalanche started somewhere off in the distance, which had the effect of moving a family's cabin south to what is now Germany, where they were then forever free of the once-local, now-international debt collector. Gods work in mysterious ways, usually resulting in things even a mystery to themselves.