11015/The Saga of Ulik the Troll!

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The Saga of Ulik the Troll!
Date of Scene: 06 May 2022
Location: Asgardian Embassy
Synopsis: Tvark and his raiders come looking for Ulik and find only battle and death!
Cast of Characters: Thor, Loki, Jane Foster, Balder, Gunna Sijurvald, Sif




Thor has posed:
    It was in the night that the fog rolled in.
    In the night when the barriers were low. When the realms were their closest and the leylines glowed. A path given to those who sought it, guided by purpose and portent. Some would arrive with ill reason while others carried what could be hope. Though for those who kept watch at first it was only fear.
    A spark of such which grew when the stone ship hove into view. In ages past it was a ship that would dwarf the works of man. Grand sails and solemn form. Emerging through the bank of fog and into view of those who watched the East. A slow silent silhouette that drifted along on absent wind, floating past the symbols of freedom and commerce that line the sky in the great land of Manhattan. Until it drew close enough to the docks that the tall form blocked the light from the moon, a grand shadow cast over the small office of the man who was said to be master of the harbor. A man who watched as the tall figures disembarked from that large stone ship. Dropping heavily to the docks from line and gangway, landing heavily in shadow. Several of which fell across the man who stood sentinel in that small small office.
    Guttural growls were heard, grunts. No words given, even as the man trembled at the large figures that stood there. Three of the great trolls conferred, turning their eyes on each other and finally the man. Until a decision was made. The Harbormaster's eyes widened as one approached. A proud creature seven feet in height with sharpened tusks that laid a claw on the sword at his side. The fear was palpable. And then when the seven gold coins clattered upon the lip of the window he used to interact with those who sought safe harbor, when the trolls seemed to nod to each other that yes this was price fair and well...
    It did nothing to allay the man's fears.
    But that is when the figures moved off down the docks, a strong party though the harbormaster was perhaps more distracted by the shine of gold before him. Yet it was only when that warband was gone, when he was left still in the shadow of the ancient stone ship, that he finally had the wherewithal to pick up the phone.

Loki has posed:
Midgard is positively brimming with magics of all sorts, from pretenders that push around poofs of the arcane and believe themselves to be master magicians to those who may know some, yet remain so closed and provincial. It's sometimes difficult to discern the import as everything comes in as white noise hum to Loki, a sorcerer of no little skill and ability. Still, settled as he is in //his// library at the Embassy, the resonance sounds a distinct tone, and he looks up and off to the middle distance. Now, now is more a likely chance for him to move between worlds a little more easily; Loki still has a problem to solve, a path before him appearing in glowing form. The book in hand is set back into place with its bretheren, and with a deft, graceful movement of his hands, there appears a portal before him, and beyond, to his sight.. that lit path created by those leylines.

Jane Foster has posed:
A chime marks the hour somewhere nearby. Bells in New York, a recording played from a wistful steeple buried among high rises that creep ever closer, guide the way. Jane walks the streets alone, midway between over here and somewhere there. The last sips of an iced tea act as a belated meal as she cuts through a tiny community park aspiring to be somethig more. Fearful cries guide the way to something too large to be the newest iteration of the Hindenburg or Graf Zeppelin, forcing her to drop the plastic cup in the recycling as she dashes after it.

Her phone caroms a cheery song. That phone call inevitably hits SHIELD. SHIELD throws it to WAND. WAND appoints the problem to Jane Foster. It takes three tries to answer, and her oddly not-breathless reply to ring out in low tones. "Yes, I /am/ aware of the Flying Dutchman invading New York Harbour." A mild sound of frustration comes after the person on the other end says something. "An Uber? In this city? Only if it has wings. Tell C-8 and May I'm on it."

Then, only then, can she pause for a moment to look around in the soup of tangled buildings, mist, and the soft moan of a foghorn trying to warn all and sundry of the obvious: a huge craft. She will not be the first to arrive, but she gets there by foot all the same. Somewhere not too terribly far away, a winged horse has opinions about being left out of the potential boarding party.

Balder has posed:
    Being nighttime, Balder could be found sitting at one of the tables in the embassy's mead hall, waiting for his brother to check in. He didn't have one of those fancy Avengers comm units, and nobody here knew if Thor had gone native enough to have a cell phone. Other than watching the door, the youngest of Odin's sons was idly making little glowing sculptures of light in the air in front of him and taking the occasional pull from the mug beside him.

    The latest sculpture, a glowing wolf, fades as it's maker suddenly looks up and in the general direction of the harbor and then rises from his seat and heads for the door. He makes his way to the gates dividing the embassy from the street. The guards are alert and present, so the threat must not have arrived yet. He lays a hand on the hilt of his sword and moves slightly away from the gate to lean against a tree. He concentrates for a moment and light seems to bend around him, veiling him from sight.

    This night could be interesting.

Gunna Sijurvald has posed:
    The barriers were low. The realms, close. Leylines glowing, a person who is lost could find their way. So it seems that another happens, as all things happen at once in these kind of nights.
    A cut passes through the air, a golden slice flashing. The air itself parts, and then a figure passes through. Beady eyes and a furry body contain gnashing teeth. Which would be perfectly normal in New York if she hadn't managed to come out in the middle of a Denny's.
    A moment later the small troll smashes out the front window, sniffing the air. She lifts her head to the sky. Then smiles. She can smell troll, amidst the smog and human waste.
    Where has she been? She's here now, axe in hand.

Thor has posed:
    The grand ship is silent, no figure moves nor stirs. Yet considering what has passed and the feeling of its connection to if not this world then one near... it is a telling thing. Yet there are signs upon it, hints that the crew is no crowd of phantoms. For there is a large beast on a spit having been roasted and devoured. Large flagons that had been used. Yet what might be all the more revealing are the stone racks that had held weapons. One broken spear remaining to reveal the purpose of those things. All together might add up to a dire expectation. Especially when the trail of their departure heads off into the city.
    And in the direction of the manor that Asgard has claimed as its own.
    Outside the embassy on this hour at night, traffic is slow with only the occasional car rolling past. There is a chill in the air as Spring still has yet to gain full claim from Winter. No passersby for the most part, for there are few draws on one's attention as opposed to the tourists that come by during the day. Yet two guardsmen maintain watch standing atop the stoop with spears in hand. The embassy is the site of their vigil and they maintain it well.
    Which might explain the discomfort they feel when they realize abruptly that there are three troll warriors standing at the bottom of the stoop. Off of the sidewalk and partially in the street. Yet no crude warriors these, no line soldiers that most Asgardians encounter when they take to the field against Trollheim. For they are three gifted with some scars and no small number of trophies. A myriad of skulls line the chest of one. Feathers adorn the beast-gut bow and quiver of another. While the third rests his weight on a spear as a large panther of stone with glowing red eyes paces back and forth.
    "Good evening, Asgardian." For a troll the warrior wearing the skulls seems to speak eloquently and easily even with the gift of all-speak. "This is the building that Asgard claims as its own. For here." A pause, "For Midgard. Yes?"
    Which has the two guardsmen looking to each other, then back. One lifts his voice as he proclaims simply, "Aye."
    "Then do be so kind as to fetch your lord. Or your lady. Or whomever you so wish."
    That serves as enough to motivate the detail at the front to indeed do so.

Loki has posed:
Follow the lines, and they will lead to where one must needs be.

Stepping through, Loki departs the library, and upon his reemergence, is set to the out of doors, upon the far sidewalk of the Embassy, behind the group inquiring, seemingly requesting an audience from one within. He begins to step forward, and with each step, his Asgardian-style casual dress changes upon his body to something more fitting, something a touch more presentable; the leathers and fabric in rich greens and golds. There is a decided questioning expression upon his face. Trolls? Of course.. why not, as they harbor one of their own within.

Loki remains silent, if only for the moment. He's there to watch.

Jane Foster has posed:
Asgard's embassy rears up ahead, couched among other fine buildings as a ring sits in a velvet box. Jane has reason to worry when she spots the first snapped haft, then a nicked blade that must have failed at some point. She stops for a moment, unable to do more than take photographs with that damned phone refusing to work quite as it should. Pocketing a coin or a small arrowhead might be enough, but her mission isn't fact-finding so much as racing through the night in search of answers. Investigation by the old-fashioned means is for people not trained in astrophysics and spycraft; let detective Batman or Sage do that.

Forsaking the thin crowds on the sidewalk for dashing up the street as she can, the path brings her ultimately to the toehold of the Golden Realm. Probably well to the point the guards have to summon the highest noble they can find, and pray to the All-Father this shift won't end with them in a mess. Or maybe pray it does. Absolutely no judgment from the mortal woman even if she heard. Her feet don't have wings, she's too stubborn to call down a horse more ennobled than she, and sooner or later, someone is bound to overtake her or show up first.

The vague silhouette in green and gold only sends a spark of alarm. What is /that/ Odinson up to? The question's almost on her lips.

Balder has posed:
    When the trolls speak with the guards politely rather than trying to eat them, Balder lets the light around him stop bending, returning him to visibility. He gestures towards the sky and a soft light fills the area, as if the sun were just below the horizon. Enough to see by, but not enough to discomfort these most unusual visitors.

    "Good evening friends. Can you tell me what you are here for? Then we would know the correct person for you to meet with." He addresses the trolls in their own language to try and make them feel at ease, showing nothing but respect for them.

    He gestures to the guards, saying "Let them enter, we may as well not upset Midgardians who are not used to seeing trolls in their city."

Gunna Sijurvald has posed:
    The lack of screams from the humans is good. They always were loud and annoying to her in the past. Still, broken glass is interesting. It reminds her of ice, and of home, so Troll stops and breaks another window just because she enjoys the way that they break.
    Then she runs, how she travels being unimportant to the story. Until the time that she crouches, scouting out what her fellows are here to do.
    Within her skull helm, her brows furrow. She pauses to scratch, uncertain, then her head swivels both left and right to look into the shadows. She's quite visible, but not everyone else is.
    Are these Asgardians really THIS nose-blind? It feels impossible. But as she sees more arriving, she realizes that this could be fun, so she growls to make herself known.
    It's a friendly growl, I swear!

Sif has posed:
There was a loud knock at Sif's door in the embassy, drawing her attention from the paperwork she was sorting through. Her armor was still worn. She rose to her feet, grabbing her sword automatically where it rested within easy arm's reach. Upon opening the door and hearing the information, she slipped the weapon home into the sheath and headed toward the front gates.

Her pace was a speedy walk, hurried but not panicked. After all, they had a chieftain from the Trolls staying within the embassy. More arriving was not something to panic over but did deserve some caution. They had not attacked. The word was they were being polite and requesting audience. Admittedly, she wasn't sure who was in the embassy tonight but time would tell as the word continued to spread through the people within.

It was less than a handful of minutes before she arrived at the top of the steps, not as a representative of the embassy but simply to back up the guards.

Thor has posed:
    The tension in the embassy goes up palpably so. For it is rare that the guards of the gate. Or in this case the guards of the stoop. Rare that they convey to the guards inside that the household should be made aware and ready. It is then the duty of those guards on the interior to spread the word. A breaking of a spell signifying to the caster that such is afoot. Then word delivered by voice and look.
    It is enough that it rouses Thor who emerges into the hallway, white tunic on his chest and loose grey breeks of Asgardian style though mixed with white sneakers compliments of Midgard's design. Attaching his belt around his waist, the mighty hammer Mjolnir rests at his side even as he looks toward one of the guardsmen. "What passes?"
    "Three trolls, milord." Helda says quickly as she walks down the hall, her own shield on her arm and blade at her side. "They ask for the lord of the manor yet do not set foot on the land." A telling thing to some.
    "I will be along directly," Offers the Thunderer giving her a nod and sending her on her way even as he moves to the stairwell to descend.
    Around him Loki can feel the ripple of the arcane. A subtle hand with a deft touch has woven the threads of fate here in some manner. Not the magicks of the realm, but from elsewhere. Yet he is able to appear behind those three petitioners at the front of the Embassy.
    In the back of the embassy, where Ulik's pavilion has been raised, lights flicker on even as the large figure of the former troll king rises. A large taloned hand pushes open the flap of the tent and the old warrior emerges as he straightens up to his full considerable height. It's to the back door that he moves, raising a fist to /wham-wham-wham/ a knock on that door seeking word even as the household rushes about.
    Though in the front of the embassy that particular tumult is not heard. For those there will see Balder's kind words being given to the assemblage of trolls, and see them reacting to the Odinson's appearance with raised eyebrows and curious countenance.
    "An Odinson." Says the Skullbearer. "Not the one we sought." Which has him look to his comrades as they all nod in agreement. But then the spokesman looks back to Balder. "Bide, Odinson. For you see we must discern. And in discerning our course of action shall be chosen."
    Skullbearer scritches a talon along the line of his jaw even as he looks toward Sif's appearance, "Troubling word is come to Trollheim. Word from one land is that you hold Ulik here your prisoner. Word from another is that he hides behind you like a child. Word from yet another is he seeks to sell his influence to Asgard and gift Trollheim to Thor as a present."
    A look to the side and the other, then the speaker adds. "We would have him. In any case."
    As the troll leader speaks, near young Gunna a voice from those shadows is heard. << Hide, little maw. Or flee. You wish not to be here. >> The words heard by her in her own language, no need for the gift of all-speech between them. A figure from the young Trollish Asgardian's past appearing near...

Loki has posed:
Pausing a little closer to shadows, Loki isn't hiding himself per se. No. There's a pensive look upon his face, which is replaced by something a touch more inquisitive yet again. There.. there it is.

Now that he's aware, what to do with the information he now carries?

There's a second touch of magic; one of a controlled tempest, and one with which he is quite familiar. Loki can feel that into the core of his being, and thus looks around for the source of the storm.

The invitation of the group to enter the Embassy is met with a hint of a smile, though it doesn't quite reach green eyes. Balder thus addressed and dismissed, and Sif given the courtesy of reason brings his attention around, albeit briefly. It's that magic that concerns him, and he steps from those shadows, his position remaining behind them.

Now, soldiers could see this as difficulty; an Odinson, or rather, a Laufeyson in the path where they'd come. One might believe that the exit has been somewhat curtailed, if not cut off.

"Or," Loki's voice rings out clearly, his words carefully chosen, "He seeks an alliance with Asgard so your Realm isn't destroyed. Pity that would never occur to you."

That magic, though. There's most certainly something else in the works, or some //ones//.

Jane Foster has posed:
Moments certainly arise in which Jane could turn back, wandering off to some safe haven or decide the nearest subway station really would be a better destination for the evening. So many turning points open up in the crossroads of life, and which way a person turns may be dictated in the Norns' weaving. Possibly a matter of chance.

Light flowing over the area eases her ability to see, at least, and she carefully picks a path beyond strewn debris and some of that glass. No point in making crunching noises to alert the others an incredibly unremarkable human is anywhere nearby, right? Especially given Ulik's companions -- or at least his tribesmen -- loom very large indeed.

It certainly comes to pass that she doesn't opt to slow down in the least, slipping to the nearest bench -- a popular selfie site -- and opting to sit right there. A bus not to come. A shadow not to pass. Her gaze takes in the oncoming arrivals, not quite sharp enough to catch the young troll.

Sif brings a faint smile, possibly etched in curiosity. Relief is far, far away. Though any bothering to look her way get an upnod, since interrupting by a word isn't called for. Might as well watch and wait for a moment to see what the trolls do.

Balder has posed:
    When the trolls decline to enter the grounds, Balder nods and says "Certainly understandable. As I have just arrived here I have no knowledge of this situation, so perhaps my brother is the one you need to speak with." When Loki's voice rings out from behind the trolls, he smiles and adds "Well, that's one brother, anyway. One more and I think we'll have the one with your answers."



    Jane's appearance doesn't catch his attention as he's still focused on the trolls, though he does glance back over his shoulder to see if the familiar figure of his older brother has put in an appearance yet. Turning back to look at the trolls, he remains relaxed, but builds on what Loki says. "That may be a very valid reason for him to be here. Let's wait for everyone who knows about the issue to arrive, then we can work this out.

    There's a reason he's called the God of Peace as well as of Light. He's as happy to talk his way out of a situation as he is to draw sword and wade into a fight. And peace seems the better option considering how much damage a battle between trolls and Asgardians could be to the surrounding buildings.

Gunna Sijurvald has posed:
    Dropped back into her past, Gunna gnashes her teeth appropriately at the one she sees. She knew her place once, and these trolls kept her safe when she was young and pink-skinned, until she could kill a beast and wear its fur. Human names, Asgardian names, they all pale in her mind. This one is just here, and they know each other.
    << I have tasted their blood, greater claw, >> she says. It sounds like someone trying to chew up a garbage can lid. Her accent always was atrocious though. << Ask for no food here. They cook it before eating. >> The face she makes is normally saved for spoiled liver and drinking from toilets. Pfagh!
    If she were Asgardian, she'd likely try to prove her bravery. But Trolls are smarter than that. The warning is well taken, and she does not show herself. She instead looks for a place to get height on the situation, climbing quickly up a nearby wall like a squirrel.

Sif has posed:
We would have him.

That phrasing caught Sif's attention fully. That sounded... complex. It was possessive. It was not recognizing Ulik for who and what he was. It was almost as though they wished to take him into custody, like a prisoner.

That made no sense though, did it? Not when tied in with their theories, none of which were truly complimentary to the troll chieftan. There was something at play here. Something which wrinkled the nose in distaste. Not literally. She wasn't going to be sniffing trolls.

She glanced to Balder then over to Loki, eyes sliding over Jane in the process. A pause as she noted the human who was far more than she seemed. That second of acknowledgement returned. Then to Loki and back to the trolls in question.

Still, her tongue was held. The Odinsons had this well in hand.

Thor has posed:
    The stone panther /growls/ at the appearance of Loki, its talons scraping the asphalt as if gaining purchase for a leap in the direction of the adopted son. And, indeed, he is noticed by those three trolls. The Bowman reaches a clawed hand to the quiver at his hip only for that movement to be stayed by Skullbearer gesturing against that action.
    "Ulik holds no standing. Holds no office. Is unworthy. He cannot negotiate." This finally seems to draw a growl from the speaker. Even as he turns away from Loki his attention shifts back to Sif and Balder upon the stoop. The two guardsmen on their sides seem stalwart and strong.
    Jane has managed to take up place and observe, gaining no attention from the delegation as they focus on the known threats. Yet between her and Loki there is definitely a feel of potentiality, as if the eldritch world was holding its breath around the setting and the events that transpire.
    Which is the moment when Thor appears, emerging from the doorway as the two guards on the interior open it for him. He stands there with that look he often wears when drawn forth at an untimely moment. His eyes slip left to Sif, then right to Balder. Then his brows climb at bespying Loki down amongst the trolls. "I am here." He offers helpfully, "What passes?"
    Though before others can speak it is Skullbearer who raises his voice, "This is the one. Thunderer. You hold Ulik. Traitor to his people. We would have him. Surrender him to us and we will go on our way."
    "Ah, that is impossible."
    "How, have you not Ulik?"
    "Oh we have him, indeed. He stays here with us. Enjoys guest rite."
    "Then..." The troll's brow knits.
    "He has offered challenge and I have accepted."
    "Is this true?"
    "Indeed."
    "I fail to see how surrendering him then is impossible."
    "Oh?"
    "I would say yes." Skullbearer's features tighten.
    "I hold my word close to me. It is very valuable and I have given it."
    "Giving your word to a traitor is unwise."
    "And yet."
    The archer takes that moment to draw an arrow from his quiver and nock it.

Loki has posed:
Loki smiles again, and it's not one of pleasure; or perhaps it is. It's been too long since he's tasted actual battle, the kind that causes blood to flow. There is trickery afoot, and to his credit, it's not him, though it holds echoes, and faintly smells of his own. Just slightly off, however. Enough that something can be done about it.

There are two daggers that appear in Loki's hands, one in each, though they're not raised in order to throw. Instead, they have a blue-ish glow to them, and a magic of their own. It takes a moment or three, the silence from the younger prince carrying heartbeats before the truth is known. It does take no little effort, as the magic is as heavy as the darkness of night.

There are small groups of trolls thus uncovered from the shadows of magic. Their hiding place within the arcane is brought to light by Loki's interference. In the alleyways on either side of the Embassy, there appears suddenly a group of six trolls, twelve in total. Again, silhouetted by the lights of the City, and what glow can reach the earth, upon two different rooftops, the same number; six upon each.

Jane Foster has posed:
A pantheon in miniature, a bevy of trolls, then a stone jaguar. Thor emerging from the embassy tips the balance a little further. Outnumbered and outmatched plenty, Jane has to physically bite her tongue to avoid speaking out of turn. Her brow is wrinkled as she tries to feel out the knotted magic, an imperfect skein awaiting to be smoothed and the threads pulled neat. Something waits to become, and its shape and weight aren't any clearer to her than the immediate biomechanics of a humpback in labour.

Too many hidden forces among the many rooftops and balconies enfolding Manhattan change the field again. She breathes out, more of an annoyed gloss, and shakes her head slightly. No point in jumping up from the bench -- yet. Sif holding back is one thing, Loki another.

"Midgard will take offense to any blood you shed here," she says in that surprisingly even tone. "With all due respect, put the bow down. They," a nod at the Asgardians, "asked permission to be here. This city can offer you excellent hospitality -- a lot to drink and meat in quantities you can't imagine. You attack and your chief will owe far more weregild to pay off the debt than you might ever believe. Wouldn't you rather feast and party?"

It's truly a mild statement from her. Ooh, a human, how impressive. Except one human who fails to flinch whatsoever.

Balder has posed:
    Baldur doesn't go for his weapon when the arrow is nocked. Instead, he simply points at it, a thin beam of light lancing out from his outstretched digit. It strikes the arrow, which flares incandescently before turning to ash and drifting away on the breeze. Noting the trolls fading into view on the rooftops, he shakes his head.

    "Let us not go straight to weapons, shall we? Far easier to talk this out, though it seems you came quite prepared for the other option. We can certainly do it the hard way if you like, but considering you are facing all three of Odin's sons and our Goddess of War, plus various skilled guards, I would think you wouldn't want to start a fight."

    He glances over as Jane speaks, but returns his attention to the original three trolls. "The next step is yours."

Gunna Sijurvald has posed:
    Gunna isn't here. She was told to get lost, and thus she does. She is not part of this as Jane speaks, and everyone performs their diplomatic duties in the fashions that they are best suited. Though really she'd have cheered to see that ONE Asgardian actually noticed the hiding Trolls.
    However, as she's been ordered to vacate, she has done so. She was going to go soon anyway, because she heard something earlier that attracted her notice. Moving along the roof, she approaches the location where she heard that sound. That booming sound, so reminiscent of something she'd heard long ago.
    Perhaps if she brings Ulik, things will get fixed. He's the one involved here after all. So she finds a window.

Sif has posed:
There it is. There is far more at play here than is known, betwen the trolls and their chieftan. Former chieftan. Traitor. This was news to Sif as she had heard no such tales from Ulik during his visitation. Certainly, she hadn't been seeking out the troll's company either so perhaps that was due to lack of opportunity less so than hidden agendas on his part. Somehow she didn't believe that.

The nocked arrow drew her attention and she was about to respond when others did so. Then Loki moved, drawing his daggers. She based her response on his. She shifted her stance a bit, one leg moving a bit as she prepared to be able to move quickly. Yet it just looked to most like she was simply shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Then when the hidden trolls were revealed, totally having not been brought in by Loki's magic, she frowned. A quick scan of each arriving group, picking out arms among their numbers. A shift of her left hand, a silent command to the watching guards to draw in more of their kind in preparation in case things went awry.

Thor has posed:
    It is hard to discern the exact moment when the path of fate was decided.
    The appearance of daggers in the hands of the Trickster likely heralded it. Then the revelation of that warband held at the ready while Loki stripped away the enchantment that gave them the benefit of smoke and shadow. Yet the first strike? It would have been when the Troll archer's expression darkened and with barely a fraction of a second the arrow was brought fully to string and raised in Loki's direction...
    Though it is not Jane's words that halts the arrow's flight. Though Skullbearer notes her, a glance given, quantifying and gauging. Not dismissed for some reason, some mark that might stand out to him. Instead it is when Balder lances out with that beam of light, enough to sizzle the arrow even as the string /twangs/ with the bow loosed...
    Creating a moment of silence where that string's reverberation hangs in the air.
    There's the sound of weapons drawn, the ring of steel upon steel. Skullbearer turns his head left and right as he considers. "All three sons of Odin. The Goddess of War." A look to Jane, "Herald of Midgard."
    "Dangerous." The troll leader says. "And yet,"
    Thor frowns as his own words are given back to him.
    "I fear we must charge you." Skullbearer says with the calm control of surety.
    To which Thor says, "Aye. Then so be it."
    That was it, the moment fate was decided.
    When the rock panther /leapt/ at Loki with fangs bared.
    When the dozen bows let loose from the rooftops aiming toward those on the stoop, the jagged wicked heads of the arrows glowing with a crimson runic power.
    When the warbands on the street /roared/ their defiance as they rushed forth, blade and bludgeon drawn and ready and seeking the blood of those who would oppose them.
    And when Skullbearer charged forward, his hands glowing as he and the Hunter rushed the steps as well.
    It is as chaos reigns that Gunna is able to slip into the manor, to find at the back entrance the massive troll known as Ulik roaring at the two guardsmen who have been tasked to keep an eye on him. His great hands are clasped in front of him, "Let me through you fools! I will not hide behind your blades! Let me fight!"
    Only for those guards to emphatically try to convince the Troll chieftain. "My lord, please. It was Thor's orders that you remain here safe until the disturbance has..."
    "SAFE?! Thor wants me to stay SAFE?! YOU FOOL!"

Loki has posed:
Loki knows there'll be an attack on him. It's not a matter of 'if' but 'when', and by whom. The rule is and ever has been 'take out the spell caster', and now that he's shown himself, there is the onus. He smells of magic, of 'other', of that which needs to be killed. He's not stupid; he's already paid those dues, that is, he's feared and hated for that which he can do.

What he can't do, however, is to avoid //all// the attacks on his person. What he can do, however, is to shift his position slightly, just enough for what could have, and should have been a full attack to become a glancing blow. Even as the stone great cat leaps and has claws rake at him, one of his glowing daggers, for it is made of his runic blade, slides in such as way as to seek what would be organs. His leathers are torn across an arm, blood spills from the gashes given, and at the very least, Loki is turning to the side at the force of the push, seeking that death strike of his own.

Jane Foster has posed:
If only they knew.

The joys of a good porterhouse or the mouthwatering cuts awaiting them, a good Scotch filet off the grill or a wagyu ribeye taken with a gulletful of beer. Does no one ever accept proper sense? Note to self: trolls fight before feasting.

Divine calculations breed like dandelions after a spring rain. Violet skulls transposed over her dark eyes mark the passing loom of time, lifelines measured in minutes rather than years and centuries. Privy to information she shouldn't be, Jane rises onto the bench. It takes a bit of fumbling work to hastily pitch a short message through back-channels to the right people in case things really go to Helheim in a proverbial handbasket.

Her only weapons at hand are wits and a dendrotoxin that may not work. She takes a quick run for cover for the nearest non-embassy entryway. A fire escape to climb would be helpful, staying off ground-level. Though anything running down the street can probably just as easily aim at her, it gives plausible cover for shooting archers at range with the ICER. Too close range, but the discharge could be mistaken for magic. Rule one, stay out of harm's way where possible and rule two, shoot from behind and above if need be. Cap's never told her to go toe to toe with bigger, badder enemies.

Balder has posed:
    So much for diplomacy. But then, the trolls apparently came for a fight, and some people you just can't reach. Fortunately light is faster than arrows, and a glowing dome covers the entire embassy, settling into place atop the walls. Unless the trolls go through the wall itself or manage to force the gate, they aren't getting in. The arrows should bounce off the protective dome, which has on occasion shown itself to be able to stop Thor's attacks.

    As an additional bit of excitement for the trolls, the outside of the dome lets loose a burst of light equal to staring at the sun. The archers probably won't be taking any more shots until their vision clears. And despite all this... he still hopes they will realize their mistake and talk things out.

    He's not in the least afraid to fight if it's needed, but he'd rather figure out a way to clear up the problem without bloodshed. Raising his voice, he calls out "Put up your weapons and we'll try to work this out." He doesn't have much hope that the trolls will change their mind, but he tried. Drawing Svraden from it's scabbard, he moves up to the gate, standing among the guards to receive the attacking trolls.

Gunna Sijurvald has posed:
    << You are sworn guest-safe. It hinders you from acting. >> The sound of Trollspeak from the window is small, but well spoken. << I am not. >>
    Then Gunna grasps ahold of the window, putting her strength into the removal of same.
    The window is built to handle a lot of damage. Bulletproof glass with steel, and a mech inlay. Bars.
    Play-dough.
    It tries, it really does. But eventually either the window or the wall surrenders to the inevitable, and Ulik the Troll is given a door through which to step. Without ever breaking his peace-bond.
    << The trolls know not what happened to you. Nor do I. But now you are free. >> She adds an honorific, but there is no translation.
    The guards however might consider the sounds from inside to be a bit worrying. You know, with the attack going on outside.

Sif has posed:
Then everything goes to Hel in a handbasket.

While others take up positions to guard the door and Balder goes for shielding the embassy, Sif draws her sword as her shield is brought into play as well on her left arm. The shield is brought up to block any of those arrows that were coming her way as she lets out a sharp whistle.

"To arms!" she calls out to those guards within the walls who had not been able to see the goings on, adding them to the fray as well.

She drives forward, meeting the attacking trolls. Shield and sword blocking blocks coming her way, the Uru metal Brumeoalfold cutting through troll weapons if possible to disarm some of their enemies. A moment later, the winged stallion appears and she leaps astride, urging her mount toward the nearest rooftop and the archers stationed there. They were the biggest danger to those below and thus her focus. For now.

Thor has posed:
    Behind the main turmoil, the great stone cat faces the Trickster. Inside its mind is only the one focus it was given, to obey its master and its master has told him that this one in the green must /die/. And so it seeks that death, stalking to the side even as the dagger had struck home, causing a trail of ichor to fall from the flank of the feline. Its jaw opens as it pants, injured and perhaps flesh beneath. But then it draws in on itself the way cats do when readying for a leap. Warning enough perhaps for the Trickster... for in the next moment the creature charges him again.
    One of the band of six trolls /rushes/ by Jane as she makes that break for cover. She does not draw their ire, not yet at the least. Their goal? To charge the steps, to rush up them and set upon the Asgardians there. Some of them wielding great mauls and two-handed blades, others with twinned knives, all rugged and wicked looking as they charge. Though one of those archers has his shot fouled by the discharge of the ICER near causing one of those arrows in the volley to crash through one of the embassy's windows.
    The arrows find purchase in the shield that springs forth around Balder, the glow brilliant and fouling their aim even as those others are forced to rush forward blindly as their eyes adjust. The runic power in the arrows crackle as they hang, the charge slowed as some of the trolls are dazed. Yet it's Skullbearer who finishes the charge, bringing his glowing fists down upon the shield and causing a sharp crackling release of runic energy that blasts around them. Perhaps it was the impact, or perhaps it's Balder dropping the shield to ready to accept the charge, but it leaves the trolls and Asgardians now coming together in a great clash.
    "To me, Asgard!" Thor yells as his own hammer comes up as he /leaps/ off of ths toop to land amongst the trolls, landing with a heavy impact that causes them to stagger with another pulse of impact creating a /Cha-whoom!/ of sound. Which the guardsmen take as a call to counter-charge even as several other emerge from the open doors of the embassy, brought forth by Sif's call. Together now, they do so charge, leaping into the fray.
    Yet as the mayhem rages, Ulik's attention is drawn to the small Troll Girl even as she tears that window and wall open with a crackling crumbling sound. The two guardsmen there turn to look on her with such incredulity that they don't immediately draw their weapons. Instead it is Ulik who responds first and quickly so. << You have my thanks, Little Maw. >>
    And it is with that thanks given that he rushes through the gap, out the side and begins to rush along the alleyway along the side of the building, great booted feet thundering loud as he charges toward the front of the embassy.

Loki has posed:
Thus blooded, Loki's expression has shifted from that smile that was devoid of humor to one of pain and anger. The one arm is torn, the blood drips down to his hand, making the dagger there difficult to keep hold of. He does manage it, and manages it well as he spins around quickly, and with the speed thus gained, again his dagger seeks the stone flesh of the creature aided now by the pounce of the feline, and again, it finds purchase, but this time deep within its vital organs. If such is had by the creature.

Apparently it does, such as it is, as the snarls of the great cat sound, and then ceases as it is thrown back and lies silent and still upon the ground. Loki's opposite hand rises to touch his torn arm, only to come away with that film of red. Green eyes search for the next, and they lift towards the top of one of the building. The brilliant light of Balder's shield does much to show the forms of those creatures, and he reverts to that of his baser skills.. cold. That free, uninjured hand pushes forward, as if pressing against several pounds of force; as he does, those upon the roof (as well as the roof itself) will be coated with harsh, cold, thick ice, should they not seek some semblance of cover.

Loki needs no rallying cry.

Jane Foster has posed:
Aesir and Vanir know how to fight. Proof in the street and on the grounds of an embassy where they don't /need/ help from one SHIELD agent -- or a salvo brought by maverick Quinjet pilots weaving in and among the brick buildings. Jane smartly kneels on the black, wrought metal fire escape that's fortunately in better shape than much of the city. Points for gentrification! While Thor unleashes havoc and the Odinsons cast their spells, she looks for Sif's telltale movements in flashes of red where she can.

Thunderous peals and booms are just as likely to knock her off her footing as anyone else, if misjudged. Being on one knee is a necessity. Good for the aiming as she cautiously points the ICER at the next distracted target and fires at another archer. That one may be smart enough to turn and notch an arrow in the process, loosing in kind. It may even hit.

Every little bit to be torn away means Asgardians live to fight another day.

And in another place, another aspect of her incarnates to reach out to the doomed and draw them away from their last breaths.

Balder has posed:
    Having trained with his brothers and Sif so often, it's entirely reflexive to open space in the shield for her pegasus to pass through slightly before his shield is suddenly and unexpectedly breached. Narrowing his eyes, his sword glows with heat before he charges into combat.

    Diplomacy over, now they find out why he's sometimes called Balder the Brave. His superheated Uru sword sunders a number of troll weapons as he laughs with the enjoyment of battle.

    He _is_ Asgardian, after all.

    Dashing into the midst of the warband, he makes a quick feint, stab and slash, and two of the warband trolls find themselves falling into whatever afterlife awaited them. He's fairly sure it doesn't involve Valkyries, however.

Gunna Sijurvald has posed:
    And Gunna? She was caught by the guards. It took them eleven seconds, and one of them is holding her by the back of her neck while the other looks out the hole in the wall. She tries to bite off a finger, but given how much more powerful an adult Asgardian is than she, it's really a fairly easy task to subdue her.
    She's learning all KINDS of new Asgardian swearwords though, since she managed to get in a couple of good bites before she went down! They might even be infected.

Sif has posed:
Loki seemed to have the second rooftop well in hand with his magic. Leaving Sif to deal with this one. She came in quickly, the steed winging strongly into the fray. This was a war steed, trained to strike out even as Sif's blade swings sharply.

Bodies fall, screams rend the air. But some were not her doing and she becomes aware of Jane firing at them as well.

Then one of the archers believes they have spotted a magic user. And thus, the arrow is loosed toward Jane.

THUNK!

Sif is there, the arrow having breached through to the back of her shield but she had placed herself halfway between the weapon and the Midgardian. A glance is given to Jane, a terse nod. "Today is not your day to die, Jane Foster." Then she is back into the fray on the rooftop which ends pretty quickly.

Thor has posed:
    The stone panther lies dead, its handler unaware of its passing as the troll warrior brings his spear down against the shield of one of the Asgardian guardsmen. But the archers high upon the rooftop near, they are aware of the Trickster and his powers as they are suddenly assaulted by the breath of Winter as a great sheet of ice and snow bursts forth coating the trolls and fraying their bowstrings causing them to duck behind the wall that separates the roof from the abyss beyond. Only one or two more arrows fire forth but after the first /twangs/ there is also the sound of strings snapping. For now they are handled.
    Though the missile troops on the other rooftop spot the fire being drawn on their brethren. Several take aim toward Loki, sending those wicked and jagged arrowheads slicing across the distance toward him while Jane's efforts actually draws the ire of another who lines up his shot toward her... only for that ICER to snap off another burst that explodes in his face causing the arrow to fly high in an errant arc. Though a second archer lets fire with a hurried shot in her direction, though likely far less accurate. Only to have Sif's shield catch the missile in mid-flight.
    Meanwhile in the brawl the Asgardians have the high ground and it does grant them an advantage as they rush down to set amongst the trolls who dared to attack. Balder's blade proves true to the tales as it slices the hafts of axes and the edges of blades, sending some of the weapons flying though the monstrosities they face either draw new weapons and failing that instead leap to battle bare-handed. There is an intensity to them, not like the normal raiding warband that breaks at the show of strength. Instead these press on.
    Which suits Thor just fine as he plants himself in the middle of them, stance wide as he holds Mjolnir in both hands. Two trolls rush him and he slashes Mjolnir to the side causing it to whirl through a wild orbit that cracks into both of them and leaves him free to rush forward and grasp another by the neck to /smash/ him to the ground.
    Only for the Hunter to try and skewer Thor with his spear while Skullbearer roars, "Odinson!" Perhaps calling out to Balder, or perhaps trying to get the attention of all three at one inopportune moment. Yet it's Balder that faces the troll with the grim trophies, his fists still glowing as he rushes forth ready to pummel and crush!
    Now menaced by the Goddess of War those other archers turn their attention fully on the flying Shield Maiden, their weapons firing rapidly now and the glow imbuing them subsiding subtly as they fire faster and faster. It's in that lull that Loki is able to focus his powers once again, drawing on the magic left to him to flicker out of existence even as he shifts to another location to contiue the fight.

Jane Foster has posed:
Volleys of magic and arrows rain down. Some get a little too close for comfort, shivering arcs cut through the air with a squall. They might even have a good opportunity to inflict a curl of fear in the belly as the metal structure around Jane wasn't meant to resist archers, but rather let people in the upper floors of their millionaire mansions get to the ground in event of a fire. Solid but not /that/ solid.

That shield manages to get in position before the arrow decides to go through her leg or some more critical part. "Thank you, Lady!" she calls to Sif, swivelling to shoot at another troll frolicking through New York on a pretty spring night. Balder's light show and Loki's ice are both very nice to see, though she focuses on fringe elements who harry and make themselves a nuisance. If they happen to be within range, so the better to add her non-fatal contributions. Dendrotoxin may not kill but dropping someone mid-dodge has its advantages.

Don't mind the invisible spectres gathering souls and ushering on their way. All for one and one for all ends. Nothing to see there without considerable gifts to pierce the veil.

Balder has posed:
    Having seen those fists break a shield that should have been almost impervious to harm, Balder doesn't bother with a personal shield as the troll rushes him. They circle for a moment, sizing each other up. Balder's first probing attack is actually blocked by a bare hand. He makes a mental note to learn more about that enchantment later if he can. His sword flicks out in attacks meant to measure the speed of his opponent.

    Skullbearer is actually pretty fast for a troll, and a skilled warrior as well. After a few moments of back and forth, the troll has several insignificant wounds and Balder has a large bruise on the left side of his face. He shakes his head to clear it after the blow and moves back to the offensive. Having a measure of his opponent now, a series of feints suddenly change as he literally blurs into motion. He moves from in front of the troll to standing behind it too quickly for the eye to follow, his sword extended to his side. As Skullbearer tries to turn and face him, a huge wound opens up, spilling troll innards onto the ground.

    Balder winces and lightly touches the ribs Skulltaker broke when he got his fist into the Odinson's path. Time enough for that to heal later but for now, he looks for remaining trolls to deal with.

Sif has posed:
Sif remains atop her steed as they land on the rooftop. Her sword flashes in the low light as the trolls are forced to give up ranged weapons now that she is in their midst. The stallion rises up on hind legs, striking out with front feet toward trolls close and metal shoes on the hooves just add to their power.

Sif is in her element. Battle is her world. Her blood is singing through her veins and she feels as though she is invincible. Yet, she is careful not to exult in that feeling. For that path leads to madness, the warriors' madness that would turn her from friend to foe amongst her allies.

Yet there is no doubt, she loves this as her blade cuts through yet another troll until suddenly she finds herself without an enemy. She frowns, looking around then nudging her heels into the sides of her mount. Lightly for the winged equine is trained well and does not need more than that touch to leap into the air then dive for the trolls on the ground below, allowing Sif to leap off his back and tackle two trolls, before she rolls to her feet and continues the fight as the winged steed flies out of range for now.

Thor has posed:
    It is this moment that Ulik appears around the corner of the embassy, roaring his displeasure at the tableau before him. His great fists are held before him, tusked maw wide as he growls his anger and starts to rush forward. "Tvark!"
    The word hurled at the fallen Skullbearer who lies upon the ground, coughing from his wounds and the blood that pours forth from those spilled entrails. "Ah, the traitor shows his face." Another bloody cough comes from him.
    Around them the battle seems to be winding down as the surviving trolls upon the roofs and beset by the well-formed counter attack of the Asgardians give way. Even moreso at the felling of their leader.
    "No traitor, I!" Ulik roars as he skids to a stop over his fallen countryman. "I betrayed none! Was I who was betrayed! You follow that fool! That half-breed!"
    Another ragged cough from the creature on the ground as he shakes his head, "What matters it now? Hide here, Ulik. Hide here and die of passivity. It is the death you deservvve..." The words trail off as the glowing around Skullbearer's hands fade and the light disappears from his eyes.
    As their leader passes Ulik's eyes widen with such rage and he raises his fists high. As if he was going to smash the fallen troll into bits right then and there. Only to lower his fists, the blow unstruck. Those surviving trolls break away from the conflict, and some even flicker and disappear from view once kissed by the nearest shadow. It leaves them with a measure of quiet after such a battle.
    Only in that moment it is Thor who speaks as he looks around the fallen, then to those who yet live. One of the Asgardian guardsmen lies unmoving alongside the trolls. The others already tending to him. "See to the dead. Grant the trolls their peace, prepare their bodies to travel."
    Then the Thunderer looks around to the others and nods. "It seems we have much to speak about." Though his eyes fall upon Ulik at the end before they warriors adjourn.