10867/Ulik in Repose

Ulik in Repose
Date of Scene:	22 April 2022
Location:	Asgardian Embassy
Synopsis:	Vintridr and Jane share words with Ulik while he is in a better mindset.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Jane Foster, Vintridr

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Thor has posed:
    It was a small ceremony. The presentation between the two parties of food, meat, and salt. Each was given from the one known as Thor to the troll chieftain Ulik. Their eyes were locked, stern and grim as they stared at each other. It was a gaze that did not waver even as Ulik took the proffered items. A bite of a large turkey leg. A drink from a flagon. The touch of salt. All consumed and shared, binding host and guest in the ages old rite.
    Obligations on both sides sealed, Thor was ushered away and Ulik was left in the care of Helda who managed house matters. Which was seen to with her usual precision. For when Ulik was brought into Villard House, he was seen to the dance hall that had been used in the past for training at arms. Yet it was the largest room in the manor and would serve for now.
    There was an area now converted in the corner with an abundance of pillows used as what would pass for seating for the great Troll Chieftain. A table was set before those pillows and upon that table were no less than nine carcasses of chickens and several bottles of mead. All of which, when Ulik had seen them, had been enough to ease his temper. As he thumped down heavily onto the floor amongst the pillows, indulged in the food and drink heartily.
    And when Helda asked if there would be aught else?
    "More!" Ulik bellowed, though when the shield-maiden of Asgard affixed him with such a glower...
    He amended his words to add, "If you would." If Ulik could take exception with the Thunderer that may be a given, but with the staff of the mansion? He could speak no ill of them.

Jane Foster has posed:
What pleasant options are provided, worthy of chieftains and crown princes? A proper array of succulent meats, a beverage to wash it all down. Clean sheets, plumped pillows, and entertainment to be found in the homely house of Odinson.

Jane stays very much out of the way, letting Ulik and Thor do what they do best. Jest, consume things, or quell their anger. Food comes and goes, though she's content at most to watch and possibly inquire after that blithely sought coffee. Just in case. It's been a long day despite not reaching midmorning; for her, it's rather more like evening and then some, with no opportunity to snatch a nap from the claws of defeat. No matter. Naps are rather optional, really.

"All's well that ends well," she tells one of the household, respectful and watching it all from a spot that's not at all within arm's reach. Unless one has exceptionally long arms or tentacles, of course.

Thor has posed:
    The gathering came to a close with the Thunderer having shared some time, food, and drink. After a point Thor had turned to Helda and asked of her to please see to their guest and what he would need for the evening. Yet when he was taking his leave that is when Ulik raised his voice.
    "Until the morrow, Odinson. Most assuredly will kill you in the morning!" Which has Thor looking at their guest, then back toward Jane as if sharing a brief moment of commiseration as he calls out.
    "Until then, Ulik." Yet at the least the potential for mayhem and madness is resolved for now with the Asgardian retiring leaving Ulik to have more food and drink as he wishes. And for now, he seems content to indulge so.

Vintridr has posed:
    "As long as it does end well," Vintridr murmurs sotto voce, having made her way to Jane's side without drawing notice - perhaps only on Asgard's territory can a woman of her size and bearing fade into the background so easily. "Something still feels off about all of this, but I couldn't say where it leads."

    She scowls. "... I mislike lacking answers," she admits.

Jane Foster has posed:
The mere mortal in their midst moderates her mood, mildly mesmerized by the mantics. Man-antics?

For times such as this, another Odinson would probably do admirably. A sly smile, the right word. Mayhem and madness may abound, but they fall under the general purview of mischief that he so embodies. Not so much with the brunette, her lips pressed together behind the rim of the cup she drinks from. Helda can expect a thank you card and a fantastic pair of gloves, perhaps, as thanks for defusing a volatile situation. She drinks the heated drink, swallowing up the warmth and pointedly not thinking about the prospects of murder through ritualized combat.

"I have not inquired," she begins. "How I should properly call you." This quiet aside for Vintridr acknowledges the valkyrie with ease and respect. One does as one must in this particular golden house. Especially when exactly point five of the likely occupants has any notion whatsoever of what she might be or who, beyond 'astrophysicist human who likes rainbow bridges.' Her breath pools against the ruffled coffee, sending wavelets, and she drinks the rest. "I shall have to go ask the guest some of those questions, I suspect. He has been well-mannered. Best to keep it that way, at least where I am concerned."

Thor has posed:
    Their guest has been well-behaved. Gruff, perhaps. Even a touch rude in his word choice. But he has not menaced others, nor given outward expression to his less civilized thoughts. Instead he has held himself in check, indulged in the good spiced birds, tasted the Asgardian mead. And, to be fair, the mead has had an affect on him. Not as much as it might upon those deemed the mortals of this world, but his color has become healthier and he even came near to jest at times.
    Though now with Thor's departure, Ulik is left to consider the room. His surroundings. Those nearby. Vintridr and Jane occasionally get a glance, and if eyes meet then a nod soon follows. Yet once he has looked at his surroundings, and when he waved off the suggestion that he could retire to quarters prepared for him...
    Then his thoughts drifted elsewhere. And any student of humanity might well see the point when such thoughts e'er turn inward.
    For that reason at the least he continues to drink.

Vintridr has posed:
    "I suppose it matters less, now that I'm once more known to Asgard," Vin murmurs back. "Among these halls, I am called Vintridr."

    She tilts her head, looking at Jane. "And as for you -- what should you be called? I know the name by which you're recognized among Midgard, but... There's more to you than that these days, I believe. What, I know not, but I feel it regardless."

    More than that, though, she leaves in the middle for now as her attention returns to the guest who is becoming more gradually morose.

Jane Foster has posed:
As long as there's no angry troll under the Bifrost, all is well. Jane sets her cup aside where it will not be in the way, though if there's a washbasin, she can put the item in there herself. Far be it from her to act like servants at one's beck and call are perfectly normal. Such benefits may belong to the royal court, but she isn't truly used to them.

The bracelet on her wrist still hums purposefully, a crackle of electric intent she isn't listening to. In truth, its failure to remain dormant bothers her considerably.

"Vintridr. Jane Foster. I... helped make contact with Asgard from the human side after a very long time. My specialization is in astrophysics." Her smile glides up a little, though she shakes her head. "Most of us who learn this much about the world are shaped by it. I've no doubt Asgard is woven into my fate now." She lightly chuckles and approaches Ulik then, leading the way for herself and any who want to follow.

"Greetings again. Are you finding the hospitality here to your liking? They keep a full board for guests," she says to Ulik. If he doesn't hurl a carcass at her, she sits opposite him, sinking down so they're not exactly on an uneven level of her standing, him seated.

Thor has posed:
    "Ah," Ulik perks up, his great maw opening and then clunking shut as he clacks his tusks together then nods slowly. One great hand is curled around a goblet as he looks over at the mortal who brokered the agreement. "Jane Foster." The name untouched by All-Speak becomes a rumbling deeply accented thing when spoken by the Troll, losing that hint of civility that is there in his other words.
    "I will say one thing for the Asgardians," He looks around the room, at the guards on duty, at Vintridr. Those glowing crimson eyes going from face to face to face. Then back toward Jane, "If one's meat must be cooked they do it well. But the mead?" He lifts the goblet in a gesture.
    "Even a troll would not gainsay it." For he nods slowly, the corners of his mouth turned down not in a frown, but as if the grudging compliment he gave was a hard thing.
    "A fine last meal."

Vintridr has posed:
    "More than that, I'd wager..." Vin murmurs, either unaware of or politely ignoring the bracelet's hum - but her voice trails off and her eyes narrow as Ulik makes himself heard once more.

    "For someone who wishes to issue a challenge to battle, you seem oddly certain that it'll be your last," she points out, a bit more loudly. Not /quite/ discourteous, but perhaps more blunt than considered the norm.

Jane Foster has posed:
"I'm pleased to hear that you find them to your liking. Any Odinson would not stand for the mead to be less than stellar," Jane agrees. Clearly she isn't packing a tankard around, and given the inhospitable outcomes mead tend to has on humans, that's probably high praise. Nothing like a second drinking dooming anyone of stamina unequal to an Asgardian or dwarf. She breaks into a low, throaty laugh. "You shall be the best judge of the meat and other parts of the meal. May I be so bold as to inquire why you're so certain this to be a last meal? Would it not please you more to contend against Thor /regularly/ instead of a final duel?"

She tucks her feet beneath her, kneeling and comfortable. Guest rite is Asgard's matter; she, technically, sidesteps it. A thinnest of technicalities but there may be leeway the others don't have. "Have you been prompted to do this by your people or another cause? I am unaware of what prompts a blood feud among your people, forgive my ignorance."

Thor has posed:
    "It could be!" Ulik shouts back in rejoinder toward Vintridr, his own visage sharpening as he straightens up, though as he does so his head wobbles a little with that hint of intoxication that has crept into his manner. "Best to live life as if it were!" He continues, then finally adds as if to solidify the thought, "More likely this was Thor's last meal!"
    But then he blinks a little blearily in Vintridr's direction, before he turns his head around to focus fully on Jane Foster before him. And when she offers basically the same query, though couched slightly differently he makes a big to do of crinkling his nose and rumbling deep in his chest. "Thor and I have always been blood enemies. Perhaps the oaths were not taken. Perhaps the observations were not met. But he and I! We have a destiny." Leaning forward closer to Jane she can now likely quite well smell the liquor and the breath of the old troll.
    "And I shall spill his blood before I fall, but..." He lifts his drink, "Should I do so at his hands. Ah." Then he nods, "A fine death that would be."
    Then conspiratorially he continues, all while eying Vintridr warily as if she were hiding Thor behind her back somewhere. "Did I not tell you of when I almost conquered Asgard?"
    No waiting for an answer this, he presses on. "I united the tribes. For once, we all had said... had said. We were done with it!" A nod is given as his eyes hood a little sleepily. "Done with it. Golden Realm my eye."
    Then his brow knits again as if he had forgotten where he was. Then he resumes, "But Thor, when we first fought. He was young, and a fool. I could have slain him... twenty different ways. But I was too busy laughing!"
    At that he barks a laugh, then clears his throat. "He won, however. Laid me low. Rare. That. One moment I thought I had him. I could surely destroy him. I thought I was playing, showing off for my people. They cheered me then. Oh how they cheered me. Even after, for it had been a wondrous duel. Now however..."
    A pause as he slows his words, slows the rambling and murmurs, "They do not cheer."

Vintridr has posed:
    "People yet spoke of it when I was young," Vin replies, her eyes fading with memory. "The massed assault came as something of a surprise, turned back only by the slimmest of chance."

    She nods to herself at Ulik's half-drunken rant, the pieces falling into place. "So that's the way of it, then?" she asks. "One last great battle for the ages, one to be remembered whether you win or lose?"

Jane Foster has posed:
One benefit to Jane's very problematic condition: you can't really throw-up even if introduced to eau du troll et poulet au mead. Nope, the rotten tang of too much roasted meat and spice on a betusked, foul wind at most can make her wish she'd wretch, but the other processes aren't quite there.

That, or Undrjarn has something to say about dignity vexed. She truly is going to have an aversion to roasted chicken for the next few days.

"I am not Urd, to know what was woven at Skuld's hands and measured by Verdandi's choice." No, she's only there to know that end snip, the finality of Urd's elegant fingers measuring what is allotted to a man or woman. No more and no less. A handmaiden of battle gets no greater insight, often, except when things have gone terribly awry. She's prone to listening to the story with a curious tip of her head, eyes bright and watchful.

She is quiet, Vintridr's question hanging there. Another, at the back of her mind.

"Who /do/ they cheer for now?"

Thor has posed:
    Vintridr has come to embody the part of Asgard that looks down on him, though she does not mean to perhaps. The way he looks at her sidelong, in his mind's eye he sees all of the beauty and wealth and martial might of the Golden Court and it sours him as his features twist into a scowl. Yet he does not protest nor offer insult, instead he rumbles a low deep sound as he waves one hand to the side. Dismissive? Possibly. But more perhaps grudging acceptance.
    "I have this much power left in my hands, I shall at the least fall at the behest of my nemesis. Or I shall strike him down and in turn be struck down by his..." His lip twists up a little as the humor amuses him with his deep voice rumbling and that final sibilant lingering when he says, "Minionssss."
    So slowly then, the glowing orbs of Ulik's eyes swivel back to focus on Jane. So slow one can almost hear the slick moist sound of those sockets and the irises focusing. Her question asked his lip curls into a sneer as if he were about to lambaste her with ill words. Only for it to be the beginning of a name as he says just as slowly, "Korrrrek." The rolling 'r's of the name draw something animalistic and nasal in that pronunciation. Distaste. But also respect.
    "The new chieftain. Young. Foolish." Then. Grudgingly, "Strong. Comes from nowhere. Tells us we go nowhere. Fool."

Vintridr has posed:
    Vin's eyes narrow once more. "That seems like an unwise position to take, for one who'd lead their people," she comments. "What kind of leader does not seek to improve his people's circumstances? Preaching doom and endings more befit those who wish to bring an existing leader low..."

Jane Foster has posed:
The offerings of beauty and culture, martial prowess and conquest all wrapped up into a single entity can be daunting. Ask any mortal forced to really, truly face down Loki, Odin, Sif. A host of others remain enshrined in lore and legend. In a way, Jane can understand; there's empathy there, but equally a desire to make sense of the events so far outside her bailiwick.

Her eyes narrow slightly, and she has to sink her teeth into her cheek to not break into a grin at the barista speaking truth. "I'd listen to her," she nods to Vin. "For in there's a strong grain of truth. To me, but a daughter of Midgard, you sound fatalistic. That you wish to die by the hammer, taking your enemy with you. But is your life so set on an unbreaking path, quarried from the rock? Or is it possible you take a different fork and dare an even /bolder/ strategy than this?"

She leans forward a little, not really genuflecting herself to Ulik. But perhaps she might be seen to share with him an insight of a sort, as a pupil to a teacher, allowing him to listen or smack the offending child on the upside of the head for nonsense. "We like things that are new and different, is it not so? Novelty is appealing. A blue gemstone instead of the common white one. A well-made axe when everyone else uses spears. Everyone rushes to get or try the new thing -- but many forget that what they have, or what they did, or thought? These were important too. Because they worked. This chief comes in, like a new stag, throwing his head so all admire his horns. Perhaps there is something to learn from what he says, but also something to be gained in going a step further. You have experience leading them, yes? The tribes know you, and have followed you. Can a strong leader hear new ideas and see how they might be improved? The most confident do not fear strength and innovation. They sit back and consider, then add those to what they know for something better. If you were, for example, to improve Asgardian mead."

A brief hand rises. "To /imagine/. Not to offend our hosts. You may decide you want to try different spices. Maybe plants from your own lands. A special flower, a different bark, a precious herb. If you added that, to make it best to troll tastes, would that not be a good thing? It matters less where the thought is from, but more with what you do with it."

Thor has posed:
    The troll leader grunts heavily, his head sinking lower as he then supports it with one heavy fist under his chin. The other hand still free to help him tilt back another swallow of mead here and there. His jaw grinds those large teeth as he inhales, then exhales again slowly. "We are not a people who lend themselves to trickery. Subterfuge. He leads because he is strong, he says what he does because he is young and stupid. Grant him another hundred years and he will realize." His tone shifts a little, as if he were offering instruction to young trolls even as his eyes start to close.
    Yet it's when Jane leans closer, when her tone shifts subtly after she suggests an even bolder strategy. That's when just one eye of Ulik's opens. Slowly, only the lower half as the corner of his lip curls conjuring imagery akin to poor Bilbo tempting fate with the gaze of Smaug.
    He grunts, a rumbling roiling grunt that is slow and porcine ending with an almost dog-like growl.
    Yet he listens.
    As she speaks about axes old and new. About the horns upon a crown. When she brings up the concept of improving Asgardian mead. /That/ is when his eyebrows rise.
    Still she is measured with silence and gauged with wariness. Perhaps it is the drink, or perhaps it is Ulik's own hurdles he faces in life. But his brow knits with that look of confusion as he rumbles five words, "What. Are you getting at?"

Vintridr has posed:
    "Do you think your people can survive a hundred years' worth of this Korek?" Vintridr points out. "A beligerent idiot who has convinced himself nothing matters anymore could lead your people to extinction in less than ten."

    She crosses her arms and tilts her head as an insight hits her. "Or mayhap you already know this, and wish to die in a more traditional manner rather than live to witness your people's decline."

    There's just a hint of scorn in her words now, acting like the 'bad cop' to Jane's 'good cop' - mocking the path he's chosen while Jane offers a better one.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Be better than Korek," Jane answers in four words. That's something, anyway. "Duelling Thor is not the way to beat Korek. Not the way to get respect or power."

What the hell have the past fifteen months done to her? Questions that she'll goggle at either, offering lessons of diplomacy and kingship to a man who is, in his way, already well-equipped for it. Frigga save her, it's come to a pretty pass when the bright shieldmaiden of a shared sisterhood is the rational one, and Jane's the dreamer.

"You are not a fool." She looks up into those wet, inhuman eyes. Dares, because the alternative is too many words. "You did not fight us in the park. You were thinking ahead. What if you could lead your people, be better than Korek, /and/ show them Thor deems you a worthy enemy? If he can't be bothered with Korek, but he considers /you/ a threat? I would wonder, would the tribes admire someone who has the personal eye of the Thunderer as a risk to peace?"

Thor has posed:
    At Vintridr's words Ulik turns is head slooowly toward her, glowing eyes narrowed as he then reeeeaches across the table and grabs one of the nearly empty bottles in hand. She likely can imagine the gears churning in the troll's mind as he calculates her distance, the angle, the force likely needed to send the bottle hurtling her way...
    But then he gets distracted by the fact that some liquor still sloshes inside the bottle and instead he turns it on its side...
    And drains it.
    The bottle is set down with a glassy clink-ka-clink as he rumbles a response. "My people will survive. We trolls /survive/. Will it be as a kingdom? Perhaps. Exiles or refugees? Perhaps." He grunts again, "My role is finished, for he won the rite of leadership." And that seems to in some ways settle the matter for him. Or perhaps is more embraced by him. As something known. And comfortable.
    Yet it is the harshness of Vintridr's point of view that makes him more amenable to the more optimistic words of Jane Foster. For when she starts speaking his confusion remains at first. Only to slowly be dispelled. His heavy brow lifts and those eyebrows roll to the side slightly as if his mind was picking up that doubt and tossing it aside for a momentary flirtation with imagining the possible.
    "That would injure him. His position." Those words are given in that rumbling tone of his. "But I have still lost against him. I would need to be seen to best him. But I cannot challenge him."
    A pause as his head lowers a little as he seems to consider the following impossible. "He would have to... challenge me." His eyes close a little as the weight of his head rests on one fist. Then his lips part to mumble a few final words.
    "For... some reason..."
    Then there is silence as the great troll Ulik remains there. Unmoving. Quiet.
    Until the snoring begins.

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr looks down at the insensate troll, an expression somewhere between disgust and pity on her face.

    "... Something to ponder upon," she murmurs. "Without knowing more of this 'Korek', however, it would be hard to come up with a viable plan."

    Her eyes harden. "Assuming, of course, that saving the Trolls from themselves is any of Asgard's business. The Odinson will have to make that decision."

Jane Foster has posed:
"It might. There must be avenues to learn about Korek. Heimdall, if he has seen that way. Anyone with the grounds to access their lands, traders or merchants perhaps? I can only guess."

As he's asleep, she gets up to her feet, hands flicked over her legs. "Assuming that having a leader they know versus an upstart, ambitious one they don't? Asgard's choices will fall to wiser minds than mine, anyway. However, I could see it being worth Asgard's while to work with Ulik as a known quantity. It's up to them. I would imagine learning more about Korek is more important before acting. Whether he is a risk. What he wants. What he promised. Can trolls select a chieftain another way and... well, obviously, what would make him challenge Ulik, if it ends up being needful."

Vintridr has posed:
    Vintridr acknowledges the point with a half-shrug. "We'd need to be beyond subtle about it," she points out. "If Asgard were to openly aid Ulik, the other Trolls would assume he's struck a deal to become our puppet in exchange for being returned to power."

    "... If Korek is the beligerent fool Ulik makes him out to be, a simple threat to his dignity might be enough. Or perhaps a rumor that his victory over Ulik was not achieved honestly; even lacking proof, if the rumor were to sound credible enough, Korek would feel compelled to issue another challenge to prove his victory wasn't an undeserved fluke..."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Naturally. I don't imagine that suggesting how to do something like this involves waving Asgardian banners far and wide. But it's just an option. However, Korek could well be seen as a problem even by his own people. I don't imagine they relish going to war constantly." The mortal sighs a little, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "I rather like your take on that. Enough to say he cheated at winning, but maybe that's considered reasonable? I do not know."

Vintridr's onto something there.