Today, I traveled further into this desert land known as New Mexico. I was able to speak with an acquaintance of Lady Foster who gave me her current address. And also stated that it was many miles from here.
When I informed her that I would be traveling this distance on foot, she gave me an incredulous look and told me to visit the local air-fort about one hundred miles east of the town. I was able to locate this air-fort but they would not accept my gold and furthermore, apprehended me and put me on a list that claims I’m unable to take flight due to my sword.
An awful lot of trouble just to travel from place to place here. What’s worse is there isn’t a stable in sight where I may commandeer a horse. I must find another mode of transportation. And quickly. Before my beard becomes unruly.
In the days following Thor’s departure from Asgard, the realm had continued to flourish under the leadership of the Allfather Odin. All was well, and all was peaceful. Which kept the people of the realm eternal in good spirits. Save, of course, for the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. They had not seen action for what felt like ages. Fandral often polished his sword so it could merely sit in his armory like some sort of trophy collecting dust. It wasn’t that they were unhappy during this time of peace. They were just terribly bored. Which oft led to quite a bit of trouble.