Now, Loke was a minor deity in Valhalla. Loke had a bad reputation for being unruly, a bit of a prankster, and generally uncool, which was exactly the sort of person the devil avoided, but he was also the sort of person god hated.
The devil found Loke dodging Thor. Loke had a joke he liked. He’d walk in and ask Thor, “What is your name?”
Thor would answer “I’m Thor!” with his characteristic panache and enthusiasm.
Loke would answer “I’m Thorry!” and Thor would throw something at him, in this case, repeatedly throw something at him, multiple lightning bolts from his hammer.
“Hey, Lucifer!” Loke yelled from his current hiding place, a large stone on a mountain in Valhalla.
“Hey, Loke. I got a problem.” The devil ambled over, dodging a lightning bolt. “Thor, lay off him for a bit; I have to talk to him.”
Thor huffed and went off to find Sif to complain.
The devil waited until Thor had left earshot. “As I said, I’ve got a problem. This Jehovah has declared himself most high over earth, this tinpot planet he’s made. I don’t know why I care, but it is pissing me off. He thinks he’s banished me there. I am no longer able to access heaven, but I can enter the counsel of the most high as per treaty. And, of course, I can go to pretty much any other polity, so here I am. As I said, we have to do something about this Jehovah.”
“Jehovah? Who is that? I thought that planet was under the counsel of the most high? How did Jehovah get control of it?”
“Well, you know the most high. They are far more interested in golf than in anything else. He’s gotten permission to pretty much run the whole show. I really think they’re phoning it in these days. That’s why I’m here.”
“Why not consult the elder gods? Wouldn’t Rah or Atum be interested in this?”
“Ra has his hands full with the Serrun-D’La right now. Rumor has it that they are thinking about a colony on earth, but have not made any moves yet. Atum, as you know, is a complete playboy and can’t be roused for anything. He swings by earth a lot for the parties.”
“Yeah, you always throw the greatest parties, with the best minds and the finest conversation available. What happened?”
“Jehovah drowned the damn world!” The devil looked away, a hard, distant look settling on his visage.
“Drowned the world? How is that even possible?”
“Well, he let loose all the water he could find on earth, then he hit it with a comet. There were exactly eight survivors, not counting the animals Jehovah felt needed saving. They’re still tossing around down there on the high seas, over the mountaintops.”
Loke let out a low whistle. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Even in his worst rages, Thor would never drown an entire world, and certainly not for partying. I must speak to Odin about this. The Allfather may know what to do. Certainly the halls of Valhalla will be interested, even if there’s nothing that can be done.”
“Ok,” Jesus said. “But first I must seek out Hel and see if she can spring my friends from Gehenna.”
The night arrived, and, with it, the perpetual party of the halls of Valhalla was called to disorder. Odin, the Allfather, master of Valhalla assumed the place of honor at the head of the table, dodging an errant axe sent sizzling by some young punk. Odin was old enough that the carousing and fighting didn’t interest him much. He was interested in the eating and the dancing wenches.
Lucifer entered the great hall a bit after Loke, and his presence ate into the noise like a flame into styrofoam. As he strode into the room, pockets of chaos once seeing him fell silent like a fish falls on a butcher block, with a sort of audible whump caused by a dozen or so warrior mouths shutting at once, with the clatter of trenchers struck by discarded meat and the thunk and slosh of hastily settled tankards.
Lucifer was always quite the sight. Created by Jehovah himself as an earlier creation, Lucifer was not a god. He was a massive majestic angel of such intense beauty that even the manliest, straightest of the halls of Valhalla couldn’t help but shift themselves in their seats a little to relieve the pressure of their rising tumescence.
He carried himself proudly but not arrogantly. He also carried a majestic pair of wings attached to his back. These wings were the source of his power, being an angel. As per the Treaty of Titus, he was allowed to retain his power if he promised to never foul the presence of God’s house again. Now he was using every ounce of energy he had to be the being of intense light he was, with a radiance that would cause a mere mortal to pee himself but merely annoyed the residents of the halls of Valhalla.
However, without a doubt, he had successfully gotten everyone’s attention in Valhalla, a feat not to ever be matched until Ragnarok. Silence fell like some sort of massive ancient cloak of silence or maybe a heavy blanket. Lucifer found himself in an open place and so stopped, turned to Odin and demanded in a loud voice, “Odin, great Allfather, Lucifer, prince of earth, demands an audience!”
“Ah heck,” Odin muttered to himself. Being the Allfather sucked. Lesser deities constantly demanded his time and this nut wasn’t even a deity, and Odin knew for a fact that his claim to be prince of the spit ball of a planet called earth was tenuous at best, but he also knew Lucifer had to claim to be someone to be granted an audience. Of course, the presence of Loki just made things that much more complicated as Loki complicated nearly everything. Was that the delightful child Hel standing behind Lucifer? Well, maybe this was worth pursuing if Hel was involved.
Odin waved a hand, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard in the entire hall, which was still silent as a tomb, “granted.” Then he went back to his meal, gesturing at the dancing girls to be about it again.
Lucifer strode out of Valhalla, truly disgusted with the place. The next day, Odin rose at the crack of noon as was his wont and met with Lucifer, Hel, Loke and Thor and began to plan the downfall of Jehovah.
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