30 Vampire Thor Part I

He had been killed twice, both during the conflicts of Ragnarök. Once, when he had been Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard. An unparalleled warrior with control over storms and possessing incredible strength. Then a second time, a member of the Badoon race, not strong nor powerful.

He had been a member of the Citadel of Thors, gifted with a God-Jewel yet even then he had been weak. However, that had never stopped him, he may only be part of the whole, but he was still Thor Odinson. Even if his enemies broke his body, Thor's soul would still burn and he would keep pushing forwards. Never stopping, never resting, nothing could stop Thor Odinson when he set his mind towards a task.

Whether he be weak or strong, Thor had known that even he could make a difference. As Kree-Thor and Stront-Thor battled against Odin, Mak-Thor led the many more powerful Thor's to battle against the more powerful foes, he had never gotten disheartened. Even when the Asgardians attempted to attack him, Thor only provided them aid, blocking and dodging their strikes as he targetted only his enemies. The people of Asgard were not his enemies and though they might not view him in the same light, that didn't stop him.

But that all changed when he felt a blade pierce through his chest, his body being lifted off the ground. Thor felt the blood and life drain from his body as he once again found himself defeated and dying within the events of Ragnarök, yet it was not an enemy of Asgard that killed him.

It was instead, Odin, the King of Asgard and his golden spear, Gungnir that was pierced through his chest.

Thor realised then that he was too weak.

He was not blessed with good fortune like the other Thor's who were either born into a powerful race or found powerful artefacts to gift them power. He didn't have that, not even in his third chance at a new life.

A Midgardian, that's what he was.

A weak race, weaker than the Badoon nor possessing its technological progress. The plane of Gaea had been ravaged by the Celestials during what many came to call the Great Cataclysm, Thor was without power nor weapons to cover for them.

But that mattered little to him.

He spent his second life purely in service of saving Asgard alongside the rest of the Citadel of Thors. That had gotten him killed, pierced through the chest by one of the very people he was trying to save. So many years wasted in search of power to try and save them and look what that had gotten him?

Nothing.

Not anymore though, his third life had given him an even weaker body than his second life. There were plenty of strong people out there, Thor's much stronger than him. What was the point in one as weak as him trying to save Asgard?

There wasn't and so, Thor vowed in this life, to live it how he wanted. Another Thor, possibly even Kree-Thor would succeed, maybe even a team formed of the strongest Thor's could win. But he would not be counted amongst them, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. So, while the other Thor's spent their life driving towards that goal, he would live his life to its full extent.

The world of Gaea was divided with many warring factions vying for control of the continent.

He was a warrior, it was time to live his life as one once more.

-X- Line Break -X-

Roaring loudly, Thor rose his sword and axe into the air, baring his chest to the world. A loose pair of pants and the thick fur cloak of an animal was all he wore. Mud and paint decorated his form, tribal tattoos lining his body, the mouth of a wolf pulled over the top of his head. Behind him, similarly dressed men and women matched his war cry with their own, it all melding into a typhoon of noise that echoed across the field.

He had been born within the tribal lands of Pictland, the westernmost country on the continent of Hyboria. As a fragment of the soul of Thor, a divine soul, he was born with above-average strength for a Midgardian, couple that with his centuries of experience in warfare, it was no wonder Thor became chief of his tribe when he was but a boy.

From there, he fought battle after battle.

His tribe grew and grew, his warriors and army growing ever larger allowing him to enjoy a greater number of large battles. It reminded him so much of his time as the Asgardian Prince, Thor Odinson when he fought against the enemies of Asgard. Not only due to protect his people but often purely for the thrill of battle.

The thrill of killing a powerful foe, of risking one's life, Thor had almost forgotten the feeling during his time as Badoon. He was reminded of it again during his battle upon Asgard during Ragnarök for a second time.

Battle and conquest was something Thor had never properly experienced upon this scale. The feeling of leading an army into the lands of an enemy and taking it all for one's own self was a feeling he had never had before. It was one he enjoyed, however, one he wanted to continue to enjoy and so he pushed further and further.

No longer did he contain his battles to the lands of Pictland against rival tribes, now he pushed into the lands of Aquilonia. They met his advance with a large army, one Thor intended to crush beneath his heel.

His numbers were superior and so, he gave the order. "Kill them all!" He roared, the cheers of his army deafening in response as they rushed across the field. No tactics, no formations, no structure. He knew from only a glance that his enemies were not fully armed or even proper warriors. They were conscripts, peasants given weapons and that told him all he needed to about the outcome of this battle.

It was his victory.

-X- Line Break -X-

Varnae had met many people like the warrior he looked upon below. A warrior blessed with immense talent and strength. They often rose quickly through the world, their name spreading far and wide until there was no one amongst the continent that didn't know of their name. But they often met their ends into their lives, their fire which burned brightest often burning out soon.

The one who called himself Donar was no different.

Varnae had been around for many centuries now, a former member of the Cult of Darkholders from a time before the Great Cataclysm. He had been well-aware of the war between the Eternals and Deviants, aware of the many heroes and villains on both sides.

He knew of the likes of Donar, Makkari, Kronos, Zuras, A'Lars, Vinghtor, Tantalus. The war between the two races ravaged the continent of Thuria for many centuries. Even great human warriors rose up to make names for themselves during this period, none greater than the King of Valusia, Kull.

During that period of peace between the end of the Eternal-Deviant War and the Great Cataclysm, King Kull truly cemented himself in the history books. Varnae would hardly forget the man, he a name he remembered similar to the great Eternal, Donar.

After all, it was he, King Kull who defeated their cult, slaying their leader Thulsa Doom. Varnae, a newly created beast who fed off blood had barely escaped with his life from King Kull. Only to then struggle to survive the war between the Celestials. The Champion of the Eternals, Donar arriving to intervene.

However, he survived, watching as the world around him fixed itself into the new continent of Hyboria. The great empire of Acheron fell and provided the perfect staging ground upon which Varnae could build his new race. A race that could go unchallenged, with Varnae at its head.

He was just looking for warriors to take as his own.

Donar, the one whose name was the same as the Champion of the Eternals, was a man Varnae wanted. Men like him would be valuable servants, they were just difficult to control. However, Varnae had not lived as long as he had without learning how to control those around him.

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