Stormclouds and Chariots, part 2

The wind whistled through the lines of opposing warriors, chilling them under their rattling armor. The only sounds that could be heard was the shifting of metal and fabric, and the rustling of the grass underfoot. From atop the hill, the gathered vikings gazed scornfully down at the gathered army. Above them, a deep grey storm cloud gathered. Moving his brothers-in-arms aside, the viking sentry moved to the front and looked down at the enormous warrior that claimed to be a god. He was grinning psychotically, and his eyes were wide.

"What is your name," the sentry called out, "so that we may know what god we shall slay today?"

"I am Mars," the god of war called back, "and I give you one more un-deserved chance to yield."

"Mars of Rome," the sentry yelled, "We fear no false gods!" The viking warriors roared in approval and raised their weapons in the air. The stormcloud rumbled above.

"As I expected," Mars said to himself. He turned and motioned to his generals to keep the men back. "And as I hoped."

Mars leaned forward and charged up the hill. He yelled as he sprinted faster than any man. His godly swords dragging in the ground behind him, digging trenches in the ground from which sparks flew out into the air. His two hellhounds barked, snapped and drooled as they followed right behind.

The storm cloud above crackled and roared. A blinding white lightning bolt intercepted Mars as it struck the ground right in front of him, sending him and his dogs flying backwards and tumbling down the hill, back to their stunned soldiers.

Where the bolt had hit, a swirling pillar of smoke arose from a crater. As the smoke began to clear, a silhouette of a man became visible from within the crater. But it was no ordinary man. He stepped out of the smoke, even larger than Mars. He was shirtless, with bulging muscles and curly red hair and beard. He wore an armored tunic and held a massive hammer. Static sparks and tiny lightning bolts crackled across his skin, within his hair, and off of the hammer. His skin steamed, giving him the look of being constantly enveloped in a swirling cloud. His eyes glowed white with electricity, and his voice was like thunder when he spoke:

"The Romans are not the only ones with gods, foolish warmonger," he boomed. He extended his arm, pointing the top of the hammer at Mars, who was still lying dazed on the ground. "I am Thor, god of thunder. And you are trespassing on my lands."