12637/Resonants: Nidavellir Pt. 2

Resonants: Nidavellir Pt. 2
Date of Scene:	07 September 2022
Location:	Nidavellir, Long Hall. The Morning After.
Synopsis:	The delegation and the dwarfs discuss the form of the artifact to take and make plans for the crafting of it.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Clint Barton, Colborn, Lara Croft, Jane Foster, Zatanna Zatara, Caitlin Fairchild, Sif, Stephen Strange
Tinyplot:	Resonants

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Thor has posed:
    The Dwarfs of Nidavellir had shown the delegation from Asgard and Midgard the wonderful vibrance of a celebration deep in the stone halls of the Mountain Kings. It had been a wild party rich with drink and meat that practically fell off the bone, glazed with sweet and savory sauces that brought out the delicious aspects of how the meal was cooked by the small cadre of hearth handlers. Drink flowed freely. Tales were spun. And through it all laughter was only a moment away.
    Yet there is another side to the hospitality of the Dwarfs and that is only discovered...
    On the morning after.
    For those even blessed with the constitution of Odin's children. Even those gifted in the ways of proper drinking and indulgence... they often find they pay a price for the joy had the night before.
    Which is why important meetings, important decisions by the Dwarf Kings are always made...
    The morning after.
    The hall is quiet. The hall is cleared. Servants move quietly clearing and cleaning slowly. Carefully. Gently. Sometimes a groan can be heard from some Dwarfs that never made it to their beds. Some lie upon the tables, some in the corners. Some have had blankets pulled over them. But a good number of the tables have been pulled around instead of rows of bench seats... now it is a circle.
    And at one end of that circle sits Eitri and his court. All of whom are looking worse for wear after the festivities. They all seem pale, haggard, and one can imagine this is where the imagery of the grimness of Dwarfs is brought forth. For they all look miserable, carefully sipping from various mugs and flagons that either have a little more alcohol, or some sort of fable concoction meant to cure the hang over. Food is passed around, and the servants move on soft leather padded shoes. And heavens above protect the clumsy dwarf who stumbles and clatters the plates he's gathering. For if looks could kill he would be spit on the business end of a few thousand quarrels shot from angry bloodshot eyes.
    Yet there is some wisdom in conducting business in the harsh 'light' of day after a celebration. Which is why the tradition has endured. Even Thor seems... a little rough around the edges, for Dwarvish ale can have quite the kick.
    And last night had been wild.
    "Alright..." Eitri's voice is as grim as if he were presiding over a funeral, scowling as he slouches on the table. "What's all this nonsense then?"

Clint Barton has posed:
"Unfavorable weather conditions!" Starts, snorting himself out of a revelry induced coma the day after...

Clint had told that story about a hundred times and it got more and more elaborate the more drink he had in him... until ultimately, he'd passed out.

And is now waking up with arguably the worst hangover he's had on any realm... Stumbling and holding the side of his face, he collects up his bow, his quiver... his pride? Can he even find his pride? And makes his way to the morning after meeting looking like he just got punched in the liver so hard, it became a peach.

Hood up, sitting in a corner, definitely not sleeping...

Colborn has posed:
    And this is one of the multitude of reasons why Colborn barely consumes anything that can be considered intoxicating. While most of the gathered people were partying and such, he merely nursed a single horn of mead while standing off to one side of the room.

    A habit that he has developed over the years is simply referred to as 'peoplewatching'. It is amazing what you can learn about folks when they think they aren't being scrutinized.

    When the party wound down, he finished his single horn and set it down to go and find a place to sit and rest for a short time. He sleeps, sure, but in a strange place, he is drawing upon some of the cosmic energy within himself to sustain his body. He has plenty of reserves, and Mother-Box has a bunch it can donate to him as well.

    So when things begin to get active once more, he is refreshed and ready. Not the least bit hungover either.

    And then come the talks. Once more, Colborn becomes something of a fly on the wall. Standing beside the gathered people from Midgard and just observing silently... for the moment.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara had enjoyed some of the drink and food, but she hadn't over done it, she never does. She had, however, enjoyed a bit of back and forth with a Dwarven explorer. The two had begun to share stories, and eventually he'd shared with her some of his journals, to talk over mysteries that he had been chasing answers to, questions he wished more eyes to help him discern possible solutions for. This is where Lara is now, sipping a mug of juice, and pacing as she reads through one of the leather journals. She's quietly talking to the Dwarven explorer in the corner while they shoot ideas off of one another...

Lara is about to reply to the shorter man, when the words from across the room pull her attention toward them. She gently closes the book in her hands over her right thumb, and takes a seat upon the bench beside her, her back straight, wearing her black tanktop and dark grey hiking trousers, with black boots upon her feet, the rest of her gear and attire laying in the corner where she'd set it aside some time ago.

Jane Foster has posed:
Tales were spun, drinks enjoyed, and Jane Foster looks forward to an entirely long night speaking with the dwarves of the patterns and habits of their realm. She's a scientist, after all, and tale-spinning need not involve the stars entirely. What of the deep world where the stone sings, the ore trembles, and the world dances? Such to be learned, if they will speak with her, though she keeps a sharp eye on Zatanna and Strange the whole evening until they take their leave. At which point presumably she sleeps.

Nor is she the least bit drunk or required to sleep, since the eternity of her vigil requires no such flux of mundane concerns. Mortal cares were left behind when a draugr rammed a highly enchanted magical spear through her, and pinched the mortal coil. For all the others might look wearied or miserable, she at least has the grace to look somewhat tired. Downcast of eye, ducked of chin, occasionally murmuring a slow breath to allude to whatever they want to see.

Her task is to maintain the vigil from afar and near, silently checking that no one's poisoned themselves utterly and shuffled off to dwarven paradise.

But nonetheless, she exchanges a nod with Colborn and shifts her gaze after the mages. They're her erstwhile responsibility. Isn't that cute!

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Had she really gotten up on a table and danced with the Runekeeper? Zee has vague memories of kick stepping in unison with the white-haird dwarf, she stifles a groan.

Lifting her head up off the table, she looks blearily around, stifling another groan. Under cover of having to take a trip to the cistern, she magics herself a very hot cup of coffee in the tankard found near her head and takes a minute sip, then another.

Somewhat restored, the mistress of the biggest hangover in the universe walks gingerly over to the round of tables and carefully takes a seat and nods, regretting it. Her only consolation is that the Runekeeper looks greener than she feels.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Two points for Team Sobriety; Caitlin had had little more than a few polite sips of the beer, mead, ale and all else that was served to them. Lest one think her disdaining their company, she had eaten enough food at dinner that even the dwarves started to look a little alarmed, as if they might have underestimated the amount of food the Midgardian visitors would need...

Which is why Caitlin walks into the room with a bright disposition and chipper pep in her step. "Sorry I'm late," she tells everyone-- making no effort to tone her voice down for the hung-over. "I saw the sunrise and it was so pretty I had to go for a run. Work some of the muscle kinks out."

Like Lara, she is dressed in casual clothing; warm leggings in speckled grey-and-white, and a bright pink hoodie with 'Columbia Med' printed in vinyl on it.

She sits down with the rest of the party, flashes a friendly smile at Lara and wiggles her fingers hello at the rest of the group.

Oh look, more food. Fresh made bread is the best, even without a hangover.

Sif has posed:
After so many journeys together, many in this group have become friends to the goddess of war. They have seen Sif in battle and in leisure. As a champion in combat. As a rider in the hunt. As a friend at the feast.

Yet there is one state they had never seen her in: Hangover. Today would be the day that version of the woman was revealed!

To be honest, it was nothing to write home about unless one was into very quiet and very depressing communication. She was garbed in her usual armor. Yet she moved more delicately, in some ways. Not to an extreme to be comedic but enough so it was different from her norm. Loud noises tended to draw a slight wince from her and a glance in the direction of the offending object or person. When she had awakened, she at least had made it to a guest room. Honestly, she wasn't sure who the guest was but the man had been very polite about finding Sif snoozing on his floor. Sif had quickly made her departure and rushed off to find the necessary to take care of morning deeds.

Thus when she arrived, at least her breath didn't smell like she'd drank half over the mead in Nidavellir. Even if she felt like she had. She already had a cup of something in her hand which she sipped at as she had joined the gathering.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Do sorcerers get drunk?

It isn't likely that one would give you a straight answer. Stephen Strange certainly wouldn't.

Not that he was drunk at all, mind you. It just looked that way. Someone had to keep it together. Nevertheless, when the sorcerer makes his appearance, he appears none the worse for wear. He looks awake and not at all inebriated. Of course, he didn't actually go to sleep, either. But that is a minor detail.

There is no formal verbal greeting. At least, not yet. But, there is greetings. A nod here and there.

Thor has posed:
    A matronly elder shieldmaiden murmurs near Clint and Zatanna, "Oh you wee things, 'ere ya go." As she sets down ceramic cups covered with cloth warmers that provide leather grooves for where the fingers are supposed to go. Within the depths of those cups is some greenish liquid with leaves swirling inside, not quite tea but not quite not tea either. Yet it smells wonderful and does have some properties to aid the clearing of one's head. If one can make that first approach of a sip, which to many might well be a sip too far.
    Colborn had made himself part of the background, yet that hadn't stopped the hosts from offering him what little they could. If not food nor drink then tales and talk assuredly, yet none too forward with it. For there are likely some that hold to the back themselves in the bearded crowd.
    Lara and Jane had managed to find their niche and that interplay with Yurian the explorer as well as other wise souls had carried them for a good bit of time. He had a way to him where he would reiterate his tales attempting to provide only the facts as he knew them, the boasting of his brethren did not sit well with the traveler so the precision in his manner was enlightening. While the others seemed to embellish at times. Likely the two of them learned no small amount of the lower deeps and where many a young Dwarf travels in their formative years.
    Yet it's Caitlin's cheerful entrance that causes almost a wave of grumbles and groans as some Dwarfs pull their blankets over their heads as if she were a projection of brilliant sunlight herself and they were intending to sleep through the Winter. Yet one of Eitri's nobles gestures for her to join them at the circle of drinking tables which is extended in turn toward Strange as the wizard arrives precisely when he means to.
    It is left then, for Thor to make the trek across the way, to slowly swing one leg over the bench seat and then the other in a way that might remind one of a first officer's indulgence. Then he thumps into the seat and rests his hands on the table. "King Eitri."
    He starts, and already Eitri has his hand up objecting.
    "Eitri," Thor adjusts. "We come to ask for a boon." A slight cough into his hand, then Thor murmurs, "We have a project we have embarked on and were wondering..."
    Thor takes a moment and actually seems a little fuzzy as he looks in turn to Jane, then Sif shaking his head slightly as if seeking a reminder.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint manages to open one eye to stare at Caitlin's chipperness from the darkness of his hood.. It looks as though he has something very important he needs to tell her, sucking in a deep breath because it's going to be a doozie.. a perverbial ear-full. The Ulysses of retorts...

He belches, loud and hard, then scrambles over to a bucket he hopes isn't some dwarven hierloom for which he'll have to offer pennance and an apology when he empties the entire contents of his stomach in several hard racking heaves of his gut..

His thumb comes up to signal that he has not died, but he doesn't go far from the same spot.

Not terribly difficult for the shieldmaiden to find and offer up her healing herbal beverage. Which requires a lot more courage to drink than all that beer had... He holds it in both hands and sniffs it, but rather than be rude, he offers her a green-gilled smile and guzzles a mouthful.

Which he both regrets and appreciates.

Colborn has posed:
    Greetings, nods and the like get returned from the Eternal Smith. He is actually going out of his way to avoid speaking unless something is truly important. But the polite offerings of the hosts cannot be simply refused. Hospitality cuts both ways after all.

    He accepts a warm roll of bread and a glass of watered wine. But aside from that, he holds back and waits to see where his skills may come into use here in this negotiation.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara spares a look over to some of the others of her party, she shows a soft smile toward Caitlin when she arrives, even waiting gently at her. "You look happy." She says softly toward her when she joins them. A light grin then is lost upon Lara's visage when the sounds of Clint's evacuation of Dwarven spirits claims the room's attention, likely as a whole.

With her eyes upon Clint's back, a frown crosses Lara's lips. She pulls her thumb from that leather bound journal, and slips it over the table back to the Dwarf with such interesting tales.

Her mug is gathered up then, and Lara sits on the wooden bench with her back straight, merely listening for the time being.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane raises a slight smile, though the shift of her attention moving away from the less than drunk sorcerer and the more than heavy-headed magician. As long as they're within range of sight, she can claim some duty of helping them. The slight murmur aimed to Yurian intends to be kind, "Just a moment, if you would allow me?"

Her fingers comb through her bangs and she manages to drift away from her end of the huge tables. Lucky to still be on her feet as she heads for Doctor Strange. A telling look passes from sepia-brown eyes to his cooler grey, a quiet invitation to sketched to the Stephen. "Would you care to accompany me? Your explanation is bound to be superior to mine, and it carries the weight of your office."

Punting? Yes, but for the best reasons, lending strength of mind to Sif's strength of purpose.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Clint paying the dues of overindulgence makes Zatanna swallow hard and look the other way. With a nod and a murmured thanks, the magician accepts the cup with its leather cozy and gives it a dubious glance. At the shield maiden's urging, she takes a tentative sniff and under the dwarf's stare takes a sip. Let it not be said that the dwarves seek to poison their guests. Dutifully, Zatanna finishes the restorative drink, finding the world a better place when she finishes it.

No longer wincing at the slightest sound, she straightens and folds her hands before her, making an effort to appear cognizant of what is going on around her.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I feel *great*," Caitlin assures Lara. The pep in her voice is as bad as bells ringing. "A good fight, a big dinner, and--" Caitlin is interrupted by Clint's deafening belch, and rolls her eyes skywards as if seeking divine patience.

"-- a little cardio in the morning? I feel like a million bucks," she continues once Clint's done rearranging his intestines.

Strange is given a slightly uneasy look; Caitlin apparently doesn't know the Sorcerer Supreme very well, though his reputation precedes him here and she nods respectfully at the ominously quiet mystic.

Sif has posed:
Sif looks back at Thor, blinking once. Twice. She's taking a moment to process what he said which is when Clint has his moment. She glances over toward the archer and nods sagely, as though to say she understands completely. Then she looks back to Thor as she continues to clutch her glass in those two hands.

Thankfully, Jane is there to answer questions so she is able to simply lift up her glass and sip. Unlike the others, she had gotten her glass of it before even arriving in this room. She's partied with the dwarves enough and she knows the remedy works. It just takes a little bit to kick in.

Now if she can just survive sunshine and perkiness until that point. Which has her glancing at those who had not imbibed so munch. A curse on all of them! Not really, of course.

Then she glances back to Thor and tosses a bit of an explanation in. "To safeguard those who would travel from the realms to Midgard, allowing them a specific waypoint for their protection so they are not mistaken for an invasion. Requiring much magic and artifacts that resonate with importance to both realms in question." See! Even hungover she can get that out there. Though it is said quietly. Very. Very. Quietly.

Stephen Strange has posed:
If Strange was ominously quiet, he is quiet no longer. At the verbal prompting of one Doctor Jane Foster, Stephen offers a slight nod. Yes, yes....he will get to it.

Or, rather, he will get to it after Sif speaks and gives the basic synopsis. "As Lady Sif has stated, there is a desire to establish a focal point, to allow travel between the realms and Midgard. I personally am here more as Migard's protector, to ensure that such waypoints are created safely, for both parties."

There is a brief pause, then Strange continues. "As such, we are inquiring about such artifacts to reinforce the connection between points. Think of it as a pre-established beacon, leading to a secured station. With Midgard being the hub, so to speak. Those of us of the magical persuasion..." Strange indicates to Zatanna here as well as himself, "...are to provide the mystical connection, so to speak. We're laying down the road and hope to use an artifact as our signpost."

Thor has posed:
    The act of cleansing his body of foreign substances does not seem to be a faux pas amongst the Dwarfs as they have indulged in that at points during the evening though perhaps with a little more ease and subtlety at points. Yet none are judging the archer for his efforts. Since he had indeed made a hell of a shot apparently, seven hundred yards during inclement weather through the eye of a hurricane into the left nostril of a gigantic dragon slug. It had been epic.
    Most of the attention seems to be on the 'meeting' now much like Colborn's manner so focused, though the shieldmaiden lightly thumps Clint on the back gently and murmurs a soft 'there there' before she moves on about the room and her continuing duties, giving Zatanna a warm smile for her apparent recovery.
    At Lara's table Yurian accepts the journal and opens it with a curiously careful manner, turning each page very delicately as he begins to peruse, though sparing a smile as he looks back up toward her as he murmurs a quiet thanks. He does raise his eyebrows after a moment to murmur, "Nice penmanship." Though Jane is given a smile in addition to that comment.
    Yet Caitlin's manner continues to draw occasional groans and grumbles of protest, clearly not making many fans of some of the Dwarfs... while some of the others who either can hold their liquor better or are a little more leaning toward moderation... they can't help but chortle at the effect she's having upon their kinsmen.
    Once Sif speaks up, however, she gets the attention of court, though that primarily is Eitri's entourage at the moment. The King looks to her, head nodding slowly... gingerly as he listens. Then he grunts.
    When Strange speaks he nods twice, grunts again, "So you're wantin'... some sorta thing, an artifact, with connections between me and mine, and you and yours?" Eitri gestures with his own leather mug and grimaces a little. "Well, you know our ways, Asgardians." Though he looks to the others, Clint especially. "Midgardians, if ya don't. We tend to not... use stop-gap solutions. Assuredly we could perhaps find some... thing. And use it. But when we face a problem, we do not look for hodge-podged solutions."
    There are some grumbling noises around the tables, Dwarfs making loud 'harumphs' and 'harmphs' in agreement, one even lightly thumps his hand on the table only for the other Dwarfs to glower at him angrily.
    "We tend to make what is needed when it is needed, and we make it perfectly."
    "Hear hear." One of the entourage nods.
    "We could make this for you, with..." A look across the way toward Colborn, "The aid of your own smith. It will do the job."

Clint Barton has posed:
Despite his hesitancy to drink the greenish tea, it is clearly doing some good... There's nothing that's going to erase the hangover completely but at least he doesn't appear to be lurching along on his last remaining leg... With another long drink of the herbal beverage for comfort, and courage, the archer rocks himself off the ground and gets his legs up beneath him.

Headed towards the table where the vast majority of others are standing in varying degrees of discord. Rather than take a seat, from which he's not certain he'd be able to rise, he leans against the back of one of them and stares at the top of the table. As if whatever's being discussed is right there and it's very important.

He feels eyes on him and rolls his up to look around, "Oh yeah, we definitely make what we need when we need it." He murmurs as if he'd been paying attention, but clearly missed everything being said except the last part and assumes it was about him and his.

That or he's decided he's a Dwarf.

Colborn has posed:
    Ah, so this is what he is here for. But Colborn thought that such an artifact would already exist. He has never worked in magic himself. Sure, energy channeling through tiny fibrous membranes or whatnot, but that isn't magic. That is pure physics... maybe bent to the breaking point, but physics nonetheless.

    His brows lift, and he inclines his head. They would permit him to work at -their- forge? He turns his dark eyes towards Thor and his brows come down... not in consternation so much as just making sure he heard this correctly.

    And then they go to the King, and he bows his head forward, "I am honored that you think me skilled enough to aid you and yours." he states simply.

Lara Croft has posed:
The response from Caitlin, causes Lara to lightly laugh before she nods along to what she'd said. "I couldn't agree more." She'd softly replied before her eyes swept around at the others all partaking in the conversation now about the boon they'd come for. She looks toward Strange, and then to Zatanna, when magically inclined individuals are noted, but then regards Colborn, the one here she knows the least about. He's a blacksmith, of some repute, and Lara is eager to see what it is he can forge with the Dwarves.

It's Clint, however, who has Lara sitting up straighter, as she delves a hand in to her right pocket, then pulls out a small packet from which she slips a piece of winter green gum from, which she offers to him, along with a smile and a quiet. "When you're done with your drink..."

Jane Foster has posed:
Trust the Eternal smith in their midst to serve a fantastic purpose in the realm of Nidavellir. Jane stifles a smile, biting the inside of her cheek to quell any comments that might alight to her lips. Safest to stay in Strange's shadow where the heavier weight of conversation swirls around, and if Colborn won't be a wallflower, maybe it can be a novelty for her to do so as well. "Thank you," she asides to the Sorcerer Supreme. "We're in a good position with such an arrangement, surely?"

Or here is the opportunity for someone to tee up to the fact that they're all going to have to fight a dozen hydras for the glory of Nidavellir or something.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Sounds no longer make Zee's head reverberate like a struck gong and the slight halo around the dwarves has disappeared. The magic potion is working, the magician makes a note to herself to get the recipe before they leave. Sif's words even make sense and she sends a silent thanks to her for completing Thor's sentence.

It would appear that her role in this trip will be limited to doing a drunken can-can with the Runekeeper. She steals a glance at the dwarf and finishes her drink, nodding with a serious mien when Dr. Strange includes her among the magical.

The dwarves don't dally when asked for a boon. After throwing Dr. Strange a questioning look, she adds quietly, "We could work at Colborn's side if need be."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin quietly pours a glass of water and reaches across the table to set it discreetly in front of Zatanna without interrupting the proceedings, as they negotiate the terms of the services that will be offered.

When Colborn is nominated to the task at hand, Caitlin smiles-- then her expression grows thoughtful as something occurs to her. She tries to raise her hand, hesitating, then whispers across the table at Thor to try and get his attention.

"Thor. Thor!" she says, and finally flicks a peanut shell in his direction before she has to jump in. When he looks back, she starts a complex pantomime that seems to suggest she'd prefer to assist Colborn in his endeavours at the forge. Zatanna's sentiments mirror Caitlin's exactly and she wags her chin with enthusiasm at Thor, the Eternal Smith, and the magicienne.

Sif has posed:
With the sorcerer adding the details, Sif falls back into simply enjoying her green tea-not-tea. She glances around at the others, giving a little nod of her chin here or there if she meets someone's eyes but she otherwise holds her tongue. For now.

At least until the little dwarves in her head stop hitting that anvil with their hammers. There was a reason they limited how often they visted Eitri. After all of this, perhaps it will be twenty-seven more years before their next visit.

As Caitlin begins to perform what looks like interpretative dance of some sort, though she is sitting, Sif blinks. Twice. No, she isn't imagining the movement of arms and torso that are going on. Sif takes a moment to look into her glass, just double checking to be sure she hasn't been drinking something else this entire time. It is indeed the hangover cure so she looks back over at Caitlin then to Thor, raising an eyebrow to see if he has better luck figuring this one out.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Creating an artifact to be tailor-made for the waypoint? That would be perfect.

And Stephen states as such. "I fully agree. A stop gap solution is not the most ideal. Having an artifact expressing crafted with the sole purpose of joining the two realms to allow for easier travel would be ideal." And, as Zatanna exchanges a look with Strange, the good Doctor nods with approval. "And yes, I would most certainly be willing to offer my services in the creation of said artifact."

There really isn't much more to be said. At least from Strange. Having a custom-made artifact? Yes, please.

Thor has posed:
    "Well," Eitri starts as he notices Clint's appearance and smirks a little at the archer, then he looks back toward Colborn, "You'll have guidance, lad." Another of the entourage chortles, though it's not a malicious sound. More good-natured as Eitri goes on, "Something to symbolize... the two realms. Midgard, Nidavellir. Something that sends the proper kind of message."
    The Dwarven king looks at some of the elder smiths, and the Runekeeper who had shared words with Jane, and Strange, and Zatanna earlier. The smiths confer with each other in rumbling grumbling tones, while the keeper seems at ease with the idea. "Indeed," He murmurs. "Guidance. But it is a chance to share our knowledge. It is a good thing you seem to value such. I agree with the Sorcerer Supreme, this is the best path. Combining our magics as well would be fitting."
    Yurian Lamplighter lifts his head and murmurs, "It should focus on the sense of adventure these Midgardians seem to have. You should read this, Eitri." Apparently able to get away with calling the King by his first name, the younger dwarf nods to Lara and lifts the book as if thanking her for the read before he looks back into its depths.
    When Jane makes her inquiry the Dwarfs take a moment or two to look back at each other, conferring. Which, for the most part, looks like them meeting each others' gazes, shrugging somewhat, lifting their hands and gesturing non-commitally. Then coming to a consensus as they look back toward Jane and Zatanna, "Should be." Says one.
    "Could be," says another.
    "A decision needs be made on the form it shall take." Says the Runekeeper...
    Which spurs Eitri into action as he thumps a hand onto the table! A thump that causes quite a few dwarfs to groan.
    "I open the floor then to suggestions!" He announces.
    "A hammer!" Which curiously enough does not come from Thor but instead a dwarf off to the side.
    "A shield, to protect the realms!"
    "A sword, to warn our foes!"
    "A chestplate depicting our people together!"
    Apparently the floor is indeed open as more suggestions are hurled out there. Which is when a peanut shell bops Thor in the side of his noggin. Brow furrowed he turns to her and raises both eyebrows, "I don't see why not?" He turns his head to look to Eitri.
    The Dwarf King lifts a hand to motion to the Runekeeper who clears his throat, "There are phases when spells may be woven, and blessings given through effort and focus. Though..." The elder dwarf looks across the way toward Caitlin, "It could be dangerous if one cannot summon the willpower to see the effort through."
    Thor does, however, look over at Sif and half-smiles as he executes something of a shrug with only his eyebrows, for she may have as much clue as he does if that was what Caitlin was meaning.

Clint Barton has posed:
Clint eyes the gum, but inclines his head appreciative because he knows his breath has to smell like day old wet socks boiling in a vat of cabbage. "Respect." He unfolds the wrapper and pops the stick in his mouth, working it side to side to get both corners so none of that stank can escape the winter fresh, freshness.


And truly, everything was super cool in Clint-land until Eitri slams his fist down onto the table so hard... okay, it probably wasn't that hard at all, but neither is the excited shouting of a dozen or so dwarves all giving their suggestions all at once. The archers eyes squint steadily and he tilts his head to one side trying to drown out the worst of the enthusiastic merryment about what form the artifact should take.

Does he have anything actually productive to add?

He probably would on any other day.

So he tosses his hood back up over his head and meanders towards the wall to lean in against his palm with his forehead resting against the curve of his knuckles. "Go to the land of dwarves, have a few laughs..." Murmuring quietly unto himself... "You'll be super useful, Clint... no trust us, it's not like that other time... promise."

Colborn has posed:
    Those words..'you'll have guidance lad'... feel -almost- insulting... definitely patronizing to Colborn. But he doesn't let that show. He gives zero emotion away here.

    He does however, speak of something regarding technique. "If this is not merely a mundane craft, then my methods may be a bit different than your smiths are expecting. I do not mean -anything- negative when I Say that I hope that they are capable of keeping up. My work tends to be on a... molecular level for craft such as this."

    That said, he steps forward and opens his mouth to ask what they will be forging, and then the chaos of mass suggestions is poured in and he just shrugs, waiting until it is decided. He has no preference himself.

    To help, he asks, "Would any of you like to see samples of my work? So you might gauge what I would be best at?" he asks instead.

Lara Croft has posed:
It isn't until the suggestions start to come out that Lara pushes her hands across the top of her thighs to her knees. She draws in a breath and finally speaks up, her eyes sweeping around the others here as she does so.

"I must say, my warning about these items, since I was brought in upon all of this.. is to make the items as least desirable as possible. A sword, a piece of armor, these such forms would make the items more .. something others would seek to take, seek to find, seek to possess. I've seen it first hand, in what I do, back on Midgard. The more value, the more importance, you place within a relic of power, the more someone else will wish to take it, to use what you have created."

She pauses for a moment, and again lets her gaze roam the room.

"My suggestion is something mundane, as mundane as possible. Perhaps a door knob... or a candle stick. But, of course, this is up to all of you, and what you ultimately feel is best for the magical item to become..."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Is there any guidance or aid that would help in your endeavours?" Jane asks Colborn if he has a spare moment to cast in their direction. Her hands are open, free to be directed such as wherever, but there may no doubt be a variety of alternatives for non-crafters to make do with.

Lara's ideas earn a nod, an encouraging smile to follow. "Something that would not stand out or encourage theft is important. We're planning to do this in a public place, then something unremarkable on the surface could be helpful. A sign, a gate, a mantelpiece. A lamp might be another, bringing light into such places."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
After her small contribution, Zee watches the signals zinging back and between Sif, Caitlin and Thor with a raised eyebrow. She nods her thanks to Strange for his coherent summary of the situation and his enthusiasm.

Her feet tap a tiny dance under the table at the prospect of working along side a dwarf /and/ Dr. Strange /and/ an Eternal. A barely contained smile warming her wan face at the debate about the shape of the artifact. None of the suggestions resonate with her, yet. She discards each suggestion with a faint purse of her lips, then repeats hammer to herself.

Lara's assessment of the nature of Midgardians is unfortunately only too true. She nods several times in agreement.

"A mining implement? A mining hammer, a symbol of peace between the realms and industry," she offers when there is a pause in the shouted suggestions.

Internally, she ticks off a list of mining tools. Her mouth opens as she nearly suggests a mining car which she rejects - too much like a carnival ride.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin finds herself nodding along with the eminently practical suggestions being offered. Pragmatism seems to win out over her appreciation for aesthetics. When Eitri cautions her, she lifts her hand at him in acknowledgement and ducks her head respectfully at his advice.

"I don't know much about magic," Caitlin admits. "But I am part of the engineering team who developed the security system we're putting into place. I'd be grateful to learn anything I can just by observing the masters at work," she says, with a sincerely humble deference. "And to ensure it won't conflict with the design we've got in place. If Drs. Strange and Foster--" she glances at her colleagues-- "tell me it's unsafe, I'll yield to their expertise. But I'm willing to take the risk."

Sif has posed:
The slamming of fists and raised voices show just how excited the dwarves get at the prospect of creating. All thoughts of their heads and hangovers are gone. It is all about the craft. Making something out of what is essentially nothing at the start.

Sif has to smile slightly as Eitri teases but then goes back to listening as she sips her drink. Glancing from one person to the other as more information is added but adding nothing verbally to the conversation.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"It really can be of anything. I could not, in all honestly, care less at to what physical form the artifact is to be. I leave that to the artificers themselves to determine what strikes their muse. My concern is in the metaphysical. Once you have decided on aesthetics, then we can worry more about function and security."

It is a bit harsh, coming from the Sorcerer Supreme, but it is apparent he means no harm by it. For all Strange cares, it could be a gold inlay toothpick, or a gaudy golden toilet more at home at some mansion of a person in desperate need of attention. "It could be as simple as a lamppost, though that is certainly a little too cliche, even for me. Really, whatever you decide is fine. Having both parties work on it would provide the necessary link we would need."

Then...Strange falls silent and lets the debate on what physical form it should be continue. As he said before, he's there to provide the power.

Even if it is to an elaborate porta-potty.

Thor has posed:
    It is during that 'tumult' that so impacts Clint that perhaps some of Colborn's words are lost, the expression of the dwarfs is animated as the time of brainstorming the concept seems to have captured that creative essence so clear in the way of those people under the mountain. More ideas are shouted back and forth until a blanket is thrown off by one of the formerly comatose dwarfs who then tackles one of his kinsmen...
    The two start wrestling off to the side on the ground, apparently one finally having had enough with the noise made by the other dwarf, yet it all seems entirely normal and none bat an eye as the two struggle to get each other in various forms of headlocks.
    "A sample, aye lad, bring out a sample if yer inclined." Says one of the smiths near to Colborn, though others are in turn looking toward Lara.
    "That's not a bad idea!" Eitri announces.
    And the young woman's words has those dwarfs reflecting. "Something subtle."
    "Yet should still have an art to it."
    "Symbolic still."
    "Aye, layers of meaning if possible."
    "As she says, a lantern? As it lights the way for our people?" One fuzzy-haired dwarf says as he motions toward Jane.
    One of the dwarfs who had been wrestling holds his opponent on the ground with a knee and sits up, "Indeed! As mah darlin' says, I still say a hammer! But a workman's hammer!" Spoken by the gold-toothed dwarf who had taken so well to Zatanna the other night. Then the scuffle resumes.
    At Catilin's request, Eitri takes her words and turns them over toward the Runekeeper with just a look, as if asking him to weigh in on the young woman's thoughts. His answer? To dig into his waist coat and produce a pipe that he slowly starts to fill, nodding a little as he does so.
    Which seems like enough for Eitri, "Very well, for whomever wishes to lend their efforts we shall open the forge. For this project." He clarifies.
    Though Thor is mostly listening as what he was thinking obviously has already been suggested. Yet when Strange offers his point of view a small chuckle comes from the Thunderer. "Indeed, the aesthetics are less important. So long as it functions and functions well."
    Though that causes one of the smiths to bristle, "Oh it'll function, lad. But is there to be naught said for craftsmanship? Artistry? The weaving of tales? If it is worth doing something, best to do it very very... /very/ well."

Clint Barton has posed:
"With all due respect..." Clint, who has been largely indifferent to the goings on due to the weight of his hangover looming heavy on him physically, speaks up, "But we're asking some of the best craftmen in the realms to do something mundane..." He pushes off the wall and shakes his head as he stumbles. Catching himself before continuing, "If the artifact is to be created and be a focal point to represent the people who have done the creating, it would would be insulting to our guests for it not to be as grand as possible."

He reaches out to clap the shoulder of a Dwarf, and not at all to use the stout fellas strong back for support. "People should want to see it. This isn't some flash in the pan object to be hidden away, but a symbol of comradry between all the artisans and craftsmen between us." Which definitely doesn't include himself.

"Which is why I suggest, a crest. Asgard, Midgard, and Nidavellir. That.. or a spittoon. And not because I'm feeling sick again either."

"They're just neat."

He points over towards the bucket and starts that way in a hurry.

Colborn has posed:
    Inclining his head, Colborn has a thought. "Back in the days of the Vikings, great artistry and great meaning was attached to weapons, aye. But also to armor and shields. But.... those are for attacking or defending. Symbolic meaning could also be important.. but I am no worker of magic really."

    He steps closer to the King and says, "Please do not be alarmed. I am going to have my Mother-Box open a portal to my storage space. This is -not- the prelude to some treachery."

    And after a brief pause, he adds, "Mother Box. Open storage one, two, and three please." And as he speaks, literal rips in the fabric of space appear... with a soft variation of that 'boom' sound caused by 'Boom Tubes'. Thor might recall that sound.

    Reaching into one, Colborn pulls out a breastplate that is as ornate as can be. Made of steel with black inlaid decorative swirls here and there. "This breastplate is one I made in fourteen oh seven. It is durable enough to resist bullets and most hand weapons. This... to repay your hospitality and generosity in working with us, I make a gift to you great King." he says.

    Then that portal shuts down and he reaches into number two. "This.. is my greatest creation. I have been working on it literally for over a decade. I finished it last week." He withdraws a sword that is just about four and a half feet long. Hand and a half in most respects. The blade is shiny steel, with a double fuller. The fuller itself is just about as mundane as can be. Until his hand wraps about the grip. Then energy visibly flows from the grip, down the tines of the guard, and down the fuller. Golden energy being stored there. "It is as durable as Midgard's mythical metal... adamantium. I call it.. Sjarnbrandr... and no, this is for me. And is not a gift."

    But then he reaches into the third portal as the second one closes, and the sword is still held in his left hand as his right hand reaches in and withdraws what could be called a large iron ring. "This is what I suggest we use. The significance of using an iron band worn on the arm to bind a man to his Jarl... could be the significance in binding the realms together." The ring has an opening on one side, but it appears that the ends are mouth and tail of a great serpent. "This one was made to resemble Jormundandr... but the -design- is not my concern. The symbolism of its intended purpose is."

Lara Croft has posed:
After speaking her peace, Lara goes quiet again to listen to the responses, and reactions. Of course, the wrestling draws her eyes too, a smirk showing upon her expression at it before she looks upward again.

It's Col's show that draws the bulk of her attention though, happy to take it off of the bucket of Clint's desire.

She stands up then and folds her arms over her stomach as she takes a perimeter walk around to get a different view of the items that the man summons through his reality tear.

"Impressive..." Lara quietly says, not at all wanting to steal them, Not one bit.

She fidgets, and keeps her arms crossed...

Jane Foster has posed:
What eye Jane has for engineering her own peculiar items is extended, as a professional courtesy and out of distinct interest, to whatever this 'mother box' thing spits out. She has additional questions about said Mother Box to be sure, though for another time and a different place. Curiosity killed the cat; the astrophysicist had Schroedinger as an ideal warning to go by.

The breastplate is a pretty enough piece to admire in its clean lines and contrasting forms. She leans forwards a touch, winking at Caitlin. "Naturally we'll do our best to keep everything in line. It will be a delight." Another portal means another aspect of interest, the weapon something that she recognizes by dint of certain features. A sword is a sword, after all! No special knowledge to identify that, though the adamantium is quite fascinating. Likewise the name. "A ring of infinity and balance. Rather powerful symbolism can be found in the strength of a circle or an oval, the track it takes."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"It's just one big happy family," she murmurs to the Runekeeper on her left.

More loudly, she addresses the table, "Like Dr. Strange, I am not set on one form or another as long as the King and his subjects feel that it reflects their consummate craftsmanship." She makes an open-handed gesture to Ianfin, "And, as long as the Runekeeper feels that we have adhered to all the necessary steps made at the prescribed times."

At Colborn's display of his craft, she remarks to Jane and Caitlin, "Thor knows how to put a team together. It's beautiful work."

Thor has posed:
    Clint seems well on his way on being declared honorary dwarf as several of them lend their shoulders and arms to holding the archer up, nodding dourly beside him as they stroke their beards as if having heard the first touch of wisdom from out of the mouths of the Midgardians.
    Though some accept that, bowing to that wisdom others tilt their heads or seem not entirely sold on the point. "Perhaps a middle ground of some sort?" Is broached by Yurian as he closes the book for now, very gently and reverently placing it upon the table in front of him for later or perhaps to return to Lara.
    Of course then the proceedings come to a halt as Colborn begins to produce a series of weapons, after that short triple kabooms though partially muted. Enough to cause a grumble from those dwarfs yet at this point with all the shouting the sentiment of quiet has long been left behind.
    There is a sudden up swing in attention paid as those underground delvers and craftsmen and miners all start to gather around and look from one piece to the next, eyes lingering, gaze curious. They are respectful in their examinations, nodding to each other and sharing a few murmured words back and forth. One points at a blade and gestures to the side, as if explaining to his comrade how it might be done.
    Though it is Eitri who lifts his voice, "A kindness, and a fine gift." He gestures for one of his entourage to approach the breastplate who bows before accepting it, then bows again as he withdraws carrying it.
    "An iron ring. I could see it, perhaps."
    One of the dwarfs raise their voice, "Can be a symbol of unity."
    Another murmurs, "And another of binding, of marking that of a bondsman."
    Several others nod as they consider. Then the Runekeeper lifts his hands, "It could be simply that we create billets. One from Nidavellir, and one from Midgard. Then in the flames of our forge we twist them together into a ring as symbol."
    Which seems to gain some nods from the elders.
    "A ring then? Objections?"
    At that Eitri holds up a hand then points around the room as if looking for someone to speak against it. Though Yurian raises his voice, "With the crest!"
    "Aye a crest!" Several others take up the call.
    "Right then."
    And with that Eitri thumps his hand again on the table. No complaints this time, however.

Colborn has posed:
    Nodding his head, Colborn looks about, "Will we be doing the work here, or on Midgard? I have a forge there that can be used. But I have been looking forward to trying my hand at your famous forges." he says diplomatically.

    "And then, once forged, where we would place it, and the other relics that they resonate properly? That is not something I know about.. I would assume that our resident magicians would guide us there.." he says with a look towards Zatanna and Doc Strange. "Either way, I look forward to getting to work at the earliest opportunity."

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara took a chance to view those items of artistic craftsmanship from Colborn, then she sauntered back to her seat, offering the Dwarf there a smile when he pushed that book back toward her. "Penmanship is everything." She comments softly to him then with a grin after his earlier compliment for her. She gathers the book up again, and settles down once more.

"A ring seems fairly simplistic, and easy enough to keep track of... though rooted in a bit of Tolkienian cliche." She says to whomever is within ear shot of her, a grin touching her lips as she's clearly just joking though.

She leans down to stuff that journal back in to her rucksack leaning against one of the table legs, while she looks over toward the others reacting to this design choice. When she sits up again, her mug of only lightly alcoholic juice is taken a sip from again as she plants her elbows up on the edge of the table before her.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"They are powerful symbols of friendship and fealty. The crest bearing the symbols of the three realms ties them together neatly."

Zatanna raises her chin to Lara with a smile, and exchanges a look with Dr. Strange. "Even if Tolkien might have approved. We will keep the evil sorcerers at bay. Promise."

Jane Foster has posed:
"Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul." Jane tidily murmurs it beneath her breath, though inflected toward Zatanna just in case the joke might be otherwise mistaken. "It has an elegance to it. I cannot fault the elegance of the design." Besides, they can sneak it through as a ring on the door to hammer a greeting home if someone really wants to push the measure.

Or they might bother the passing Nazgul with the Eternal's design and watch how foolish they look for mistaking the Peace Ring for the One.

Sif has posed:
"The ring is a fine choice," Sif agrees with a bit of a nod. Not that her approving matters in the least. After all, she isn't the one making it. Nor will she be the one choosing that location. That is for scholars and magic users. She's simply one to go fetch the necessary items and bring them back.

Then it's someone else's problem.

She does glance to each member of the party then focuses on Thor and Eitri once again. "Will we be remaining here until the forging in completed? Or only those who will be involved in the forging itself, such as Colborn and the Lady Caitlin?" It wasn't so much that she was worried about getting back to Midgard within a certain time frame. These missions took as long as was necesary, after all.

Her concern was for her head--and her liver--should they remain in this realm for too terribly long.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
If anyone glances at Caitlin, she just holds her palms up. "I'm not part of the design committee; I'm just here to check everyone's math afterwards," she reassures the others. "But I'm more than happy to stick around and help in any capacity I can," she adds, hastily.

Thor has posed:
    Ianfin the Master of the Runes rubs his chin thoughtfully, "Here would be best, so long as we perhaps have material native of Midgard for the first billet." He turns his head to confer then murmurs, "I shall consult the texts and we shall consider a day that is auspicious for a new endeavor to begin."
    That said the Runekeeper seems to have said enough as he turns to gather up satchel and slings it over one arm before he starts to head to one of the doors that lead out of that long hall and toward the grand open hall beyond. Several of his assistants follow.
    Eitri grunts then nods around to those at his makeshift round table then raises his voice. "Very well then, I call this meeting ended. Adjourn and tend to yourselves you lot. You look a right mess." That last said with a half-smirk as he turns and starts to make his way out of the hall as well.
    Which leaves Thor there and a good number of dwarfs who are in various stages of exhaustion, inebriation, or departure. The Asgardian prince turns to the others and murmurs, "That went reasonably well. Now all that's left... is to make the thing."
    His lip twists up. "Those of us not needed well, we shall return via the Bifrost I imagine." And thus they likely would.