For weeks, months even, metahumans had been at the forefront of the news cycle. Wherever Freyja went, there were glaring headlines about the dangers of metas, the need for them in the face of metahuman criminals. And there was one in particular that had caught their eye: an armored warrior who used little more than her bare hands and flame to massacre dozens at the MYTHOMANE concert. There were various names given to her, none truly her own, and the lead singer of the band had apparently gone into hiding after this massacre, devastated by the event.
Things only became more interesting once a tape was released. Titled RAGNAROK [DEMO], it clearly featured audio taken from the concert, and her own voice made an appearance. It seemed that at least one person, this Lament figure, had understood her purpose, had spread her message, had been spared her wrath. But time had continued to crawl forward, and MYTHOMANE had been forgotten. She had been forgotten.
It was thus that Freyja left her apartment one day, intent on righting this wrong. She was clad simply, anonymously, in dark leggings and a hoodie, the hood pulled up tight, her only identifying mark the MYTHOMANE logo emblazoned on the back. Perhaps it would serve as a call to this Lament, or perhaps Freyja simply had a sense of humor. It was impossible to understand her expression beneath the black cloth mask covering the lower half of her face, her eyes set straight ahead as she strode through the streets with a purpose, pausing when she arrived at an intersection.
Freyja joined the crowd waiting by the crosswalk, taking note of the cars as they begrudgingly halted, their drivers impatiently glaring at the pedestrians as they trudged along the crosswalk, the majority cutting across the intersection itself to save time on their journey. Freyja was amongst them, hands shoved into her pockets as they approached the center, her wolfish smile hidden, her eyes beginning to blaze like fresh coals.
A massive wave of white-hot flame tore through the intersection, scorching vehicle and pedestrian alike. Some were fortunate enough to die instantly, blackened corpses smoldering silently. Others were not so lucky, massive burns covering their body, lessening in severity as their distance grew from her. Tires began to melt from the wave of heat, asphalt blistering and liquifying in various spots.
And in the center of the carnage Veljara stood. She towered over her victims, gilded armor reflecting the flickering light of the lingering flames, contrasted starkly with the dull ash of her skin, her horned helm adding another foot to her already intimidating height. Screams surrounded Veljara; screams of the dying, of the injured, of the terrified. Another scream joined the fray, that of tires against asphalt, rubber attempting to gain traction. One motorist had seen fit to race his car towards her in a futile attempt at escape. As the metal slammed into her, Veljara dug her claws in, muscles tightening and straining as she twisted the car’s own momentum against it, launching it up and over herself to crash against the half-melted asphalt with a horrifying crunch.
Veljara let out a scream of her own, a battle cry as she surveyed her handiwork, eyes locked upon the fleeing mortals. The flames crawled upward, climbing into her hand and coalescing into a brutal black-iron spear, one that she hefted with ancient familiarity before launching it towards the masses. Let the so-called heroes come to stop her, let them try. Perhaps she and sweet Vasia could truly cross blades once again. But for now,
Ragnarök var að koma.
Code by Reyn
Hey yall, the woman who fucked up the Mythomane concert is back! It's a pretty standard event, she's out here killing innocent people in very brutal ways, cars are flipped or trapped, there's gonna be stuff for both combatants and noncombatants alike. One character per person please, standard metagaming/godmodding rules apply, if you join you agree to the potential injury of your character, anything further will be discussed beforehand