Many are unaware, but Odin, the venerable All-Father, possesses peculiar interests beyond his role as the ruler of Asgard. Among his cherished pastimes lies the art of bread-making in its many forms, as well as spectacles of battle and bloodsport. He is an ardent enthusiast of engaging in the mystical "Wild Hunt," a game that not only grants him pleasure through sanctioned combat against members of rival clans without fear of reprisal but also facilitates the forging of advantageous political alliances that strengthen his kingdom. For who would not desire a stalwart companion who had sufficient permission from the firstborns of all realms to hunt freely across all their lands?
As one of the eldest gods, Odin assumes a unique and sacred role as the primordial "cleanser" and overseer of the eternal cycles of life, death, and rebirth that sustain the cosmos. It is his solemn duty, entrusted to him by the ancient forces that birthed creation itself, to uphold the delicate equilibrium between the energies of life and death. It is paramount that the vivifying force of new life does not surpass and overwhelm the reaping force of mortality's end. Thus, the number of powerful lords and beings bearing dominion over deathly domains must remain within a defined cosmic limit—a steadfast natural law established by the first generation at the dawn of time.
After countless centuries spent in vigilant pursuit of those burdened with destinies that risk upsetting this primordial balance, Odin has rightfully earned renown as the most venerable and coveted ally throughout the far-flung kingdoms and disparate realms. Therefore, when word spread from the All-Father's high hall of a generous material reward and elevation in status being offered for the head of the infamous Olympian warrior, lords and champions hailing from diverse lineages from across the nine worlds eagerly flocked to pledge their arms and skills to Odin's service. They came like loyal hounds answering their master's call, driven by hopes of power, plunder, and prestige.
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More than twenty fools had gathered that day, oblivious to the formidable adversary they had provoked in the mighty Haemon. With a deep breath, Haemon approached the unwelcome guests, his predatory eyes filled with hunger and madness. He scanned the crowd intently, his gaze piercing as he searched for someone worthy to satisfy his dark cravings. Haemon meticulously observed every detail, from their tattered clothing to their anxious expressions. And in a matter of moments, his attention was drawn to the one who ignited his desire most fiercely.
Amongst the crowd, a peculiar creature caught Haemon's eye—a fusion of frog and human, its slimy green skin shimmering under the sunlight. The creature squirmed uncomfortably under Haemon's predatory stare. "I have endured two weeks without a meal, and thus I find myself..." the barbarian began, his voice soft and calm, accompanied by a deceptive smile that failed to reach his ravenous eyes. Were it not for Haemon's physical flaws, many would have mistaken him for the kindest soul in the world, judging by his gentle tone. "Are you tormented by an insatiable hunger?" speculated the frog-like being, extending a trembling hand as it sought permission to voice its assumption. Haemon acknowledged the creature's curiosity with a nod, signaling it to continue. With a snap of his fingers and an approving nod, he added, "Yes, something akin to that. And thank you... By the way, what is your name?" The Olympian raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze fixed upon the frog-like entity, which regarded him carelessly.
"No worries, I am called Jamah Boat Kru!" the little frog announced in a squeaky voice, scratching the back of its head with evident delight, though beads of sweat formed on its brow. The rest of the group appeared displeased with their talkative comrade, casting disapproving and judgmental glances in his direction. "Anyway, where was I... ah, yes, hunger! My craving is overwhelming, and today, I have no patience for games. Therefore, I kindly request that everyone, except you five," Haemon swiftly pointed at the five lords who stood out prominently amongst the crowd, "depart before I count to three!"
The majority of this small army consisted of lesser lords, deemed incapable of any significant feats and thus uninteresting to seasoned warriors. However, among them were those who met Haemon's stringent criteria. Within this select group, five warriors stood out, not bound by kinship or power, but by a shared dream of marrying a former Valkyrie. Among them were Shango, a dark-skinned warrior hailing from Yoruba; Bakasura, a formidable figure adorned with multiple arms and more mouths than any human village; Kuat, the golden-haired sun lord who had grown weary of the Amazon; and Miskoatl, the Aztec jaguar enthusiast. Additionally, there was the peculiar addition of the frogman, serving as an unusual novelty.
"One. Two. Three!" the barbarian exclaimed, folding his fingers and extending the opportunity to the others. However, as anticipated, none of them seized the chance. "How predictable!" hissed the Olympian, baring his fangs and effortlessly deflecting the jaguar's attack. This signaled the rest of the group to launch a coordinated assault on their adversary.
Taking charge, Shango assumed the role of commander, issuing orders to ensure the safety of his comrades and prevent their swift demise. His extensive combat experience warned him against underestimating this opponent. Shango was all too familiar with creatures like the Olympian, often referred to as "wolves in sheep's clothing." Behind their seemingly indifferent gaze lurked sadistic intentions, a desire to ensnare and drag you, along with all those dear to you, into their dark and treacherous domain.
Shango utilized his formidable power over thunder and lightning to separate the weaker allies from the battlefield, preventing the barbarian from exploiting them as shields.
"Those unable to engage in close combat, follow me and maintain a distance of no less than three hundred steps from the Olympian!" Shango's resounding voice compelled all but three of the other lords to retreat, seeking refuge behind his protective cloak like frightened children. "Are you afraid of the benevolent old man Haemon?" A malevolent grin etched across his face, the barbarian unleashed a horde of snakes in an attempt to ensnare the retreating allies. However, Shango had anticipated this outcome. Raising his hand to the heavens, he conjured a tempest of genuine fury, accompanied by bolts of lightning that struck the serpents with remarkable precision. The madman's offspring met their swift demise before they could reach their intended victims, consumed by the electrifying force or scorched by searing sunbeams emitted by Kuat.
On one flank, lightning bolts crackled and on the other, the radiant sun itself stood as a barrier, thwarting Haemon's attempts to launch distant attacks. Yet, any approach toward the archers was swiftly met with the fierce assault of both jaguars and asuras. "He-he, Olympian, we are kindred spirits, you and I! We share the same lineage!" A repugnant stench assailed Haemon's nostrils as Bakasura parted his foul mouth. The creature's clawed paws relentlessly sought to strike vital points on the warrior's body while he deftly evaded the jaguar's onslaught from behind. "Observing you, I find a twisted sense of pride in my own appearance, abomination!" Haemon sneered, seizing the opportune moment to sever one of the creature's limbs. "You can deny it all you want, but we both know the hunger you spoke of!" Bakasura bellowed in a raspy voice, simultaneously unleashing the grotesque array of mouths adorning his repulsive form.
A myriad of ebony hands erupted from Bakasura's gaping maws, hungering to engulf the barbarian. Undeterred, Haemon bellowed with disdain and lunged forward, launching a fearless assault. "Silence, you wretched scavenger!" In his final utterance, the Olympian's voice transformed into a bestial roar. Closing in on the asura, the warrior thrust his obsidian, nightfall-like claws into the creature's jaws, then with a swift motion, rent him asunder, drenching the dusky shore in hues of crimson. Sensing the unfolding carnage, the jaguar wasted no time, seizing the opportunity and leaping from the shadows. The Olympian, unperturbed and aware of the encroaching peril, chose not to even glance back, for why startle a fly so fervently drawn to the flame of a candle?
"NO!" Shango exclaimed in a frantic plea, his voice laced with panic, as inky portals tore open in the fabric of space.