Well met, then, Lady Hawke. And to answer thy question, it is both what I am--one of the Aesir, immortal and powerful--and my title. I am Master of the Storm, the God of Thunder rather than Light or Beauty or War.
Then you're officially the first god I've met! Although I'll have to say that you're certainly different from what I imagined a divine being would be like.
Then I am indeed pleased to be the first. And while 'tis always my preference is to defy expectations, typically I endeavor to do so by exceeding them--thus I can but hope I have not underwhelmed.
Adhering to the dictates of chivalry is a requirement for those of my standing in my Realm, but matters are different elsewhere. So fear not--smiting I reserve for threats, not differences of opinion regarding the propriety of common courtesy.
If worse comes to worse, I suppose I can try to look on the bright side and... consider that I can take "kissing a god" off the the list of things I want to do before I die.
[Of course, that's a fine plan... But speaking of "that plant's curse," how fast has that mistletoe been growing while they spent all this time chatting? Fast enough for Thor to suddenly find himself rooted to the spot--as it were--when he turns to go.]
I... would not place any blame for this on thee, Hawke. I have the greater experience--I should have recognized how brazenly we had tempted the encampment's mischief through our prolonged discourse.
Well met, then, Lady Hawke. And to answer thy question, it is both what I am--one of the Aesir, immortal and powerful--and my title. I am Master of the Storm, the God of Thunder rather than Light or Beauty or War.
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And I shall hope to better earn that gracious regard by being of greater service to thee.
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And as thou will, Hawke. 'Twill serve.
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I'm very relieved to hear that, and it's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, Thor.
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Thought mayhaps 'twould be best for us to part ways, as I've no desire to subject thee to that grim fate.
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[Of course, that's a fine plan... But speaking of "that plant's curse," how fast has that mistletoe been growing while they spent all this time chatting? Fast enough for Thor to suddenly find himself rooted to the spot--as it were--when he turns to go.]
-- ... well. This bodes ill...
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...I jinxed us, didn't I?
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