Óðinn, One Eye

Odin also pronounced Othin, is famous beyond reckoning. Perhaps the most famous of all the Eddic Gods today. Rightfully described as deep and multi faceted. Both complex and nuanced. A misunderstood God. A God whose bynames are many and vast. He is the All Father! But not the Father to All, 'after all he had a father of his own... A God named Bör'. So then we ask 'If he is the all father, the father to who?'. Before getting into who this God is, let's examine his names. Not all of them of course as that is just far to many. So we'll stick to the most powerful of his names. The most recognized names, but at the same time the ones least highlighted. These names which many within the mortal realm find... Full of problems.

Imagine meeting this god if you will, and with all the pride due a God of his importance he stands before you proclaiming "You claim to not know me?! You. You who knows me so very well? As I know you! I who sees into that which is most dark and desperate within your soul, that which you choose to deny, to hide! I am OTHIN! I am he who is known as Raider, Friend of Wealth, The Hooded One, The Beggar King, Father of the Slain, One Eye, Lord of the Undead, Cargo God, Way Weary, Gore Master, Deceiver, Riddler, Grey Bearded, Visitor of the Hanged, Glad of War, Usurper, All Father, Raven Tester, Sage, User, Inciter, Finder of Sooth, Ruler of Treachery, Welcome One, Traveler, Killer and Terrible One! ...Though you deny me... I lay still within your beating heart. Asleep... Dormant until that time you need me! And no other!".

So why does he travel? Why, one such as he can have no home among the 'Good and Noble' people of Hyperborea. How could he? As he is neither of these things and yet both. He can be found nearly everywhere in our lands, in every city, in every hamlet and in every village. He is everywhere yet he can not call a single village, hamlet or even a fishing pier home. But if you know where to look, he can be found. He can be found in the overlooked, the downtrodden, and the hopeless. He and his followers forever on the edge of sight, a 'blight' on society.

But his followers knowing or not, are not only the down trodden, the homeless. The beggars and drunkards. Indeed some of the most interesting people 'those with whom Othin is truly enamored', are those doing the trodding themselves. After all many a business man, arms dealer and even leaders of vast lands are often some of the most desperate of people. People willing to cut the throat of both rivals and friends alike so as to avoid losing status, or to get their hands on that next piece of treasure, which will soothe their souls if but for a moment. Desperate for others not to discover. Their secrets...

It is these 'Leaders of industry and men' who start wars, who seek to outwit and manipulate their enemies 'real or perceived'. It is they who throw caution to the wind allowing others to fall in their stead as they themselves slink off into the shadows. It is they who profit from war regardless of victory or loss. It is they who place leaders and speakers where they will, as they are able. It is they who try to mold the future to their own desire. And it is they who will surely be hanged or even ripped apart should their treachery ever be discovered. Do not fool yourself. These people are perhaps the most desperate. Desperate for power. Desperate for control. Desperate for their secrets to remain... Secret.

He appears in tattered cloak, in shrouded hood, with broad grey beard and wine stained mustache, his face hardened... lined with concern. And contempt. He is both the most and least honest of Gods. He sees into the truth, the very truth... He sees that which most would wish to hide from him, and from themselves. He stands along side those who revere him most, he hangs from the tree with them, he crouches on street corner next to them, he peers from behind prison bars with them, he laughs alongside drunkard in hall, and runs with them in adrenaline or drug fueled heists. He among all of the Gods knows... He knows.

To those who dare defy their doom; whether they frequent the shadowy back alleys or in high-rise boardroom, those doomed to circumstance of life. To those whom the rules; laws, are merely guidelines around which to dance. Those whose eyes are no longer marred by the shadows of civility. There is only one truth for them... Survive another day, or die! He is the mast in the storm they cling to. Regardless of what name they might know him by, 'The Drug God', maybe 'Turner of the Dice', or 'Breaker of Contracts'. Regardless of what they call him, they know him. And he knows them. He is theirs as they are his. The defiance. That moment of realization, success or failure. These are the gifts of their God. These are the people he finds the most interesting. He is their Allfather, Othin, The Beggar King! And it is they who will find their way into his hall.

Othin is old. Old enough to know, ...laws. Laws are such fickle things. These laws of man, unlike the laws of nature, protect the few, the weak, the timid. The cowardly. These are the same laws which push down, rip apart and eviscerate the many, and so producing some of the most interesting people. People who scrabble about in the dark seeking the key to a room they don't know exists. The Key to freedom! The soldier of fortune born of endless conflict. The prisoner born of broken dreams. The street magician. The whore. The drunkard. The broker. The rambler. The gambler and the hustler, each born of a broken heart. He truly is their Father. Their Friend. Their Co-conspirator.

Where others might discard or disown the desperate and the defiant, turning their backs upon them; it is only Othin who does not. But his favor does not come freely nor is it easily gained. Of his followers he demands only the highest, most horrible, the most unthinkable price of all! Honesty, not with the world 'How can a man care for himself should he give away for free that which he could sell instead?'. No, he demands honesty with him, and perhaps worst of all... Themselves. For those with the audacity to call upon him, he brings with him pain. The pain of self-reflection. The pain of horrors inflicted, and of horrors received. In this way he might get to truly know a man. It is only through the pain of this honesty that a man might come to know himself as well. And so become truly interesting.

This is why he 'who is a God' willingly; even eagerly, sits with the Beggar speaking with him as a man should. It is why he above all others can love the whore. This is why he can look into the eyes of the merchant of war, the killer, and the cutpurse all ...And smile. He knows them. He sees them. He understands them. And is eager to hear their story. It is through them, his 'Little Birds', his 'Alleyway Curs', his 'Ravenous Wolves', all those 'Misbegotten Little Children' that he keeps abreast of this Mortal Realm and all of it's troubles.

The Beggar King warned with a knowing smile "And lest not forget... It is only through war. That the beggar might rise becoming a king. And so to a king might fall, becoming the beggar." as he faded into the darkness behind him.