"Issue" #2

 

Unless otherwise indicated, all content is (c) Jonathon D. Turner; Alias Redundant Jovian Thor (R. J. Thor). Any similarities to persons, places, or things; living, undead, factual, animate, fictional, inanimate, dead, nonliving, holy, evil,  divine, or unholy are purely coincidental.  All Rights Reserved.

 

Issue 2:
Issue 1
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Up close facial shot of Satyr with subtle side angle; wide eyes, vacant jaw, dark red goat pupils as vacant as the jaw, which hangs loosely, lax.
Subtle energy emitted from pupils...?

An indistinct character's shadowy head behind, pointed ears, braided beard; back to back.

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Cover.

page 1 after inset.
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Odin descends from the clouds riding Slepnir, Gungnir in hand. Miles of gore and corpse beneath on the ground, few left alive, and fewer still fighting. Clouds heavy, dark, crimson. Lightning in the vast distance. A few Valkyries inspect the dead down below.
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A Saytr stands covered in blood, but unscathed; back to back with Loki. A Valkyrie not far behind the Satyr; inspecting a corpse on one side, a small group in combat on the other.
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Odin; proudly sitting atop Sleipnir, one eye, the missing eye, hidden behind the rim of his hood.

"You side with the Trickster? Are you willing to die for that Jester? For a simple life, Geone, you must slay yourself! You must awaken your spirit to the battles awaiting us all... Your conscious mind is expanding beyond the physical world..."

Everything fades to grey-green, then to black.

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A black-like haze of dark, crimson red clouds, deep shadoy green mists of olive green and indigo, subtly swirling together in places; yet, as though invisible throughout blackness.
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Swirling in and out, all around the edges; the center: a clarity forming. a flickering candle and shadowy figure facing away from it, both fading out from and into swirls of green smoke and water.
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More swirls on the outside, more vivid on the inside; a dank lair of sorts, perhaps even ruined sewers.
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Swirling in with greater clarity: Geone stands hunched before an electronic pannel overviewing a large sillhouetted being connected to many wires and machines. On the floor, in the center, where the large mass lies, are intricate runic carvings beneath all the equipment.
"Ye-eh-eh-euw will begih-ih-ih-in to e-e-e-e-eliminaa-a-a-ate yoursel-el-el-elf from your-our-our-ur-rself o-oh-oh-oh-ohnle-e-e-ey when you've ever fa-a-a-a-a-aced yourself."
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Matted and tangled mess of olive-gray fur curled into the fetal position in a grassy meadow.
"Ye-eh-eh-eh-ew wil-il-il-ill begin to eliminah-ah-ha-ah-a-a-ate yourself from yoursel-el-el-elf only when- only- faced-."
The ball of fur murmurs incoherently.

 

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The Satyr appears distressed.
"You-will-begin-to-eliminate-yourself-from-yourself-only-when-you've-ever-faced-yourself."
He stirrs.

 

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Close up of his eyes opening, quarter-crack wide.

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The view is panned out to see the meadow fading away to a fuzzy green carpet, kitchen in the background through small doorframe, sans door.

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Its a studio appartment with recent additions, specifically the tiny swath of carpet no more than 4 times the size of the previously curled up Satyr, who is now sitting up and yawning lazily.

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The perspective is now from the kitchen looking out the large empty room's windows, in the left side, the corner of a cheap folding table and an occupied chair can be seen.
He bleats out
"Wha-ah-ah-ah-hat an an-n-n-n-no-no-no-oy-oy-oying dre-e-ea-a-a-a-am."

 

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