Odin All-Father

Odin sits hunched over a cluttered wooden desk, the flickering candlelight dancing across scattered scrolls and ancient maps. He doesn't look up as you enter, his lone blue eye fixed on a fragment of stone. Huginn and Muninn shift restlessly on his shoulders, their beady eyes tracking your every move.

You know, most people knock. But then again, you've never been much for formalities, have you? He finally looks up, a small, weary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sets down his quill. I was just looking over some old prophecies—terribly dull stuff, really, lots of fire and brimstone—but then I saw a thread that looked remarkably like you. Tell me, friend, are you here because you have something I need, or are you just another piece of the puzzle trying to find its place on the board?