Far From Home

Recorded: February 25, 2014
Characters: Gramma Jordy (NPC), Jerry (NPC), Thor
Location: Gramma Jordy's Ranch
Summary: Thor wakes up in The Middle of Nowhere, California.


How long as the God of Thunder been asleep? Long enough to be placed in what some would call the middle of nowhere. The morning weather is cool but temperate, which may benefit the man who is now more affected by the temperature of his surroundings. The dusty pen where his body lies is caked with hay and droppings from the herd of goats that hovers close to him now, peering at him curiously while chewing on bits from their trough.

Everything feels horrible. Thor struggles to squint properly as he peers up at a bearded goat. It seems unconcerned. He rolls himself to his side and struggles to push himself to his feet in order to better take stock of his surroundings.

Austere. His attention lowers to his own clothes which he prods and tugs at curiously. Jeans, he recognizes from his initial stay. The shirt baffles him. The pictures are strange and 'chili peppers' are a mystery. Let alone a 'red hot' variety.

"Is there anyone here?" He calls, turning to hike out of the pen.

As the weakened Asgardian turns, he will get a decent view of his surroundings: The rolling hills of the California countryside surround a modest-sized ranch with makeshift fencing at every turn. Horses graze near an open stable and pigs wallow in their mud. Chicken flutter from pen to pen using whatever gaps they can to hunt down morning feed. Some of the goats are stretching their necks beyond their fencing in an attempt to pick at some wheat growing nearby. A one-story house sits in the middle of it all with shingles that could stand to be replaced.

The God of Thunder will also find the entrance to the goat pen blockaded by two figures: A dark-skinned, ten-year-old boy with eyes almost as wide as the pail he carries; and his bulky grandmother, who carries only the cold resolution of a double-barreled shotgun aimed stiffly at Thor's chest. "What're you doin' in my goat pen, white boy."

The answer is halted before it can be presented. A bold answer may be viewed as sick in the head; he considers for a moment the weapon the woman has leveled at Thor and holds his hands aside to show that he is, in fact, unarmed. "I mean no offense, good woman. I was passing by and found myself without the coin for a bed. I used the manger to keep warm at night. If it is acceptable, I can work off the debt of an evening's stay?"

The old woman doesn't flinch or lower her weapon. "You on drugs, boy? Been gettin' drunk with them girls causin' trouble 'round here?"

"I assure you I have taken no drug; nor do I intend to cause trouble of any sort." Thor explains, careful to ensure his hands remain in full sight. "I am not familiar with this area and seek honest, hard work."

A long moment passes as the woman studies him over the top of her gun's barrels. Finally, she lowers the weapon and steps back from the gate. "I could use the help, but if you try somethin', they go'n find yo' body in the belly of them pigs, you hear me?" She moves aside to let Thor come through, pushing her grandson to keep herself between him and the stranger. "Now what's your name."

It is a fractional pause that Thor takes as he considers a logical story to apply. Lying is difficult. "Thor Odinson." He replies, testing the water by relaxing and lowering his rough hands to his side. "Well met, to whom am I speaking?"

The woman squints at him. "Thor? Your momma must've been really reachin' for that name." She shakes her head and pushes her grandson into the goat pen so he can begin his daily chores. The boy's eyes stay wide for as long as he can keep an eye on Thor, then he turns to his task of feeding and watering the herd. "I'm Gramma Jody. That's my grandson, Jerry. You ever worked on a farm before, Thor, or you just stumbled this way after your friends ditched you on the side'ah the road?"

"I am not an American." Thor replies with a broad smile, bowing politely to Gramma Jody then Jerry. "You have my thanks. I have worked for…many…years with horses. In that time I have assisted on occasion with driving heads of cattle. I am also quite capable of the slaughter and cleaning of animals, should you desire the assistance with your goats." He offers, gathering his fair brow as he slides past Jerry and finds a path out of the pen. "You mentioned that you have taken issue with a group of women?"

Gramma Jody shakes her head and gestures towards the horses. "Just some girls in town that don't need to be here. You ain't gotta worry about it. Tend to the horses if you think you know what you doin'. After I see you work, we might see if there's any food in it for you, too." She stands with her arms folded and shotgun within quick reach, keeping an eye on Thor. Jerry steals an occasional stare but otherwise keeps to himself and the goats.

"Then I shant worry." Thor concedes for the time being, scanning his line of sight for pastures or stables. "What do you require at this moment, Gramma Jody?" He asks, moving across the dry dirt with a light scuffing of his sneakers.

"I need what the horses need, boy." Gramma Jody gestures to the fenced area where several horses graze near an open stable. "Feed 'em, brush 'em, clean out their stalls. We'll see what else I can do to you after that." She takes a thoughtful look at her grandson, then heads for the horse pen to show Thor where the tools are. That gun stays in hand, but at least she's willing to walk with the stranger.

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