“The myths attribute many things to fire, but rebirth and purity are as part and parcel of them as they are of holocaust and destruction. We will renew you in fire, and we will give you a purpose, mighty Axe.

“You were once wrought to be strong enough to be capable of killing a god, and strong and fell you were... but strength without purpose is open to corruption, and you have felt that upon you, as your strength has no direction.

“That which makes a Weapon great is its Purpose!

“You have faced Mjolnir, and know only the Worthy can raise it up. You have seen Endure, and you know it exists to forge a new way.

“You are as you are, and the Axe of an Executioner is made to kill... but Truth of Purpose is upon you! An Executioner kills those who deserve to die, who need to die, and that is all. His Axe falls upon no others; it is no thing of rampant slaughter and carnage and violence undisciplined.

“This, then, will be your Purpose. You will see the weight of their souls, and while Mjolnir judges those Worthy to raise it high, you will judge those who must be brought low, and no others will taste your edge!

“Power constrained is power multiplied when it is released. You will be the Axe of the Executioner, and if your Purpose is grim and fell, it is also noble and worthy, a Purpose befitting a Weapon of Legend!

“Come, be reborn in fire, reforged and purified, and when you come forth, your edge will be there to greet those who have brought your doom upon them!”

The fires of Briggs’ forge burned as Skurge worked them, and if some of those fires seemed to flutter and flare in his own heart, well, this was great magic at work, indeed...

--------

“You seem nervous,” Briggs said without judgement.

“We have... met before, under hostile circumstances,” Skruge admitted stoically.

“Another one of Loki’s many schemes?” Briggs asked neutrally.

“Yes. The last one involved Ulik...”

“The troll champion is like most of his kin, most comfortable in battle. Another invasion of something somewhere, no doubt. They are too easily manipulated...” Briggs shook his head.

“Yes, well, she was standing in front of a tunnel the trolls had dug to Midgard, accompanied by some mortal champions.” Skurge looked away, embarrassed.

“And she did bring down a rather big keg of whoop-ass on the lot of you all, if I interpret that look correctly.”

Skurge coughed and grunted, “Yes. She is very powerful, yes.”

“And as you can see, she is also very beautiful.” Skurge might have gone a little red when he saw the woman striding over to greet them.

At first glance, she didn’t seem to be much more than any other Asgardian woman, being taller and more shapely than human mortals. And then your eye went back to her, and back to her again, and then you tried to look away and realized that if she didn’t want you to, you really weren’t going to be able to do so.

The curves, the long and shapely legs, the dancing waves of brown hair, the gleam of verdant green eyes, skin that saw the sun with a glow of life and vitality around her, along with the invisible glamour and Aura of power that accompanied a very powerful spellcaster...

Ursula, High Priestess of Asgard upon Terra. Purportedly half-Asgardian, and the head of their entire mortal church here, which was dominated by worship of Thor.

She glanced at Briggs with a nod of acknowledgement, which the Great Bear returned cordially. Her green eyes settled on Skurge, who tried not to flush, and failed utterly as one eyebrow rose in elegant reproof.

She stopped in front of him, her Spear in hand, and looked up at him without fear. He knew she was much stronger than she looked, and might even be stronger than he was, but she didn’t carry herself with the power and pride of a pure warrior; it was just something she could bring forth if needed.

“Your reputation is not about clever speech, Skurge, so I rather doubt you’ve fine-tongued Master Briggs into something odd. Tell me why you are here.”

Meeting her green eyes made his heart do strange things. They were very different from another pair of green eyes he knew, lacking the seductive cunning, and full of light and life and deep wisdom, secure in her place and power and unmindful of what others might think of her. If she was not wanted in the position that she was in, she would go elsewhere without a thought... but who in their right mind would give up a Priestess like her?

“There... is a great battle coming, one worthy of any warrior of Asgard. I came here to volunteer to participate in the battle, and earn my place in Valhalla!” he managed to reply under that penetrating gaze.

“You volunteered because this would be a fine place to die?” Her voice rose sharply. “Why, then, did Master Briggs call me over here? It is my job to ensure that the warriors of Asgard will live when they fight in this war! If you seek to die nobly, why involve me?!”

“I... do not know?” Skurge managed to get out, choking a bit and looking to Briggs.

“You will need both a personal guard and a relief force,” Briggs stated with the certainty of a Warlord. “They will have to be the very best of Asgard’s warriors, for they must go into the heart of the combat, pull out those who need to retreat, and relieve any and all in need of succor until you can heal them up.

“Skurge is the strongest and toughest of all those who have come to volunteer. He does not, however, have much experience in command, nor in group combat. He will need a wise hand to help guide him, but he will learn quickly, with a good example to follow.”

“He is of the Domain of Battle, so that I doubt not,” Ursula nodded slowly, her gaze returning to Skurge. “For this fight, we do not need berserkers, and we will need precious few champions.

“We need grim and bitter soldiers, who know their place, their duties, and have the resolve to fight until the end, while heaping up their enemies in hills of corpses for daring to come here and think they can kill us all.”

Her Spear flicked forwards to rap against his armor, and he rocked at the idle hit as it reverberated throughout his body. Strong!... “And we will need more! The men who will pull those valorous souls out of their doomed positions, relieve them long enough to see them healed, pull back to a new position, and take up the fight once again! Be it the skirmish line of swords, shield to shield with spears, carving monstrosities with axes, or burning down fields of swarms, you must be able to relieve them, take their position, escort them back to safety, and then turn right around and do it again and again, right in the deadliest teeth of the fighting!

“By your strong arm and power, you will drag the wounded and dying out of combat, and see them healed so that they can fight again!

“You must be swift and strong, to reach them and to bring them forth. Your eyes must be keen and your wits sharp to see and judge the situation! You must know what duty that all of them have on the field, for you may need to relieve any and all of them for a time, until they return, and hold that position!

“This is not a task of slaughter, this a task of mercy! Can one who is named The Executioner perform this duty?!”

Her verdant green eyes glowed with power. Skurge swallowed despite himself.

“I do not know, Lady Ursula, but I will try!” he said roughly.

“Then you will have to learn all that they are, and more besides, Master Skurge,” she informed him blithely. “It is time to see if your wits can be as sharp as your Axe!”

He reflected that this was the first time he had ever taken a job that demanded he think instead of obey, and something changed when he looked at the priestess next to him.

She didn’t care about his muscle here, but about his mind, his skills, his knowledge. It was very surreal to experience... and not something Amora had ever demanded of him...

He found himself rising to the challenge eagerly. “My service will not disappoint you, Priestess!” he promised fervently, swearing solemnly to himself that he would be all things an Asgardian warrior would be and more, if he could change the look in her eyes.

-------------

Time Passes, heroes sign up for interdimensional AND intergalactic war...

-SUBWAY DERAILMENT!-

Ben’s /voice was half-panicked, clearly distracted, but sharp enough to download the exact coordinates need to DiDi instantly.

Space flickered, her Ultraspecs came up, and Dr. Dynamo flared into lightning.

Hard Air gathered and formed into crackling rail lines under the wheels of the cars in the middle of a mid-air plunge, sticking right to the wheels and guiding them on course towards the street below. It was late at night, so the streets were mostly clear, and a full subway train coming down out of the sky down the middle of the road actually had room to do so as the cars present hastily got out of the way of the blaring, shining lights of the thing.

-I got it,- Didi /told Ben, weaving the Hard Air tracks so the magnetics would drag at the weight of the train and bring it to a rapid halt, as well as supplying enough voltage to sub for the third rail and power the train’s brakes. The screaming and falling about inside couldn’t be helped so easily, but they were out of the danger zone. She turned her head towards the knot of violence that was already a hundred yards off the track. -Boys, your brother needs help. Where are you?-

-On the way!- John K. Parker /roared back, and Terry /chimed in at the same time. They’d be here in under a minute, power-webbing for all they were worth. -What are we facing?-

Explosions went off as Ben’s web-grenades blew off in the face of his enemy, cementing him to the ground as Ben got some urgent distance. -Some guy calling himself Morlun, laughing about trying to eat me, except I’m a tainted meal or something. Totally ruthless. He derailed the train just to force me to close with him!-

DiDi watched as the webbing about the pale-skinned bastard began to degrade with unnatural speed. -He’s some sort of ergovore, he’s destroying the active Isotopes in your webbing. You said he wants to eat you?-

-He’s still ranting about it, but you probably can’t hear it over the train. Or maybe it’s just his breath.-

-If he’s calling you tainted, it’s because you’re Vatborn and the energy you have wasn’t directly conferred upon you. It also means he’s sensitive to that fact. Pop your handfangs, and say nothing.-

He was a bit surprised, but DiDi felt the instant of pain as the spikes pulsed out of his palms. -What’s his reaction?- she /asked.

-He’s still ripping free, but he definitely paused there for a second. He’s calling them little stingers dismissively.-

-You boys all have your Death Wards up and active, right?- she /asked perfunctorily. She’d made the Rings herself, so she knew they were active, even before they all confirmed. -All right, no more words. You converse in Markspace. If this guy wants to mass murder, you take him down hard.-

-He’s spouting that he’s killed Spider-Totems before, and I’m just a minor tidbit to the real meal he can sense about...- Ben /went on grimly.

-He can feel Miles. You’re with Terry, right?- DiDi /glanced at the Markspace.

-Uh... yeah?- the youngest of the Spider Totems /answered hesitantly. -Mattie’s coming, too...-

-I need you and Mattie to veer off. You’re going to distract him and send him rampaging through civilians after you, and we can’t have that while I’m tied up with this train.-

-Awww!- he /protested.

-Also, he’s a vampiric being who eats Spider Totems, and has murdered multiples of them. We are going to kill him, and I don’t want you to participate in that.-