"Mortal, you seem to be having some difficulties," a deep, rumbling voice sounds out behind David.
"Huh?" David spins around rapidly, trying to draw his weapon but his frog-like fingers causing it to fumble and slip, dropping to the ground with a clatter. The man now before him is tall, broad, and muscular, with long red hair and a thick beard-and-mustache to match. He wears a metal breastplate singed and dented from thousands of years of combat, and bright blue eyes peer at him from under a thick brow. Most notable is the massive stone mallet in his right hand.
"It would seem my step-brother is causing much trouble... again. Allfather Odin has sent me to aid you and your comrades in the task before you. As Odin does command, so does Thor do." Thor reaches out with his left hand to help the man to his feet. David, however, looks at him with skepticism, doubt.
"I assure you, mortal, this is no trick. I am Thor, god of thunder, and your mission is also mine own. Take my hand, and we shall begin the fight anew."