4751/Finding the Sword's Owner

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Finding the Sword's Owner
Date of Scene: 16 January 2021
Location: Josie's Bar
Synopsis: Stephen gets berated for loosing an ancient weapon. Brunnhilde stays drunk.
Cast of Characters: Brunnhilde, Stephen Strange

Brunnhilde has posed:
Finding the owner of this particular sword is nothing like finding a king to pull a sword from a stone.  It could have been, but by now the former leader of the Valkyrior is a creature of habitual self-destruction.  She's built up a reputation for herself in this neighborhood in the time she's been here and so any bartender could point out that if she wasn't at their bar right now, she wouldn't be for the rest of the night.

Today Brunnhilde has some money to burn after staving off her poor excuse for a landlord.  The coding violations are through the roof.  But this bottle of whiskey here is why she doesn't care.  It's an acceptable compromise that kills too pigeons with one stone.  "Where have you been?" she teases the half empty bottle as she sits down at the far end of the bar.

Brunnhilde is wearing nothing out of the ordinary for streetwear, topping off the dark colors with...more dark.  A black leather jacket under which she wears a hoodie.  The perfect camo for such an iconic symbol of the ages.  She's not inspiring anyone to valor or sacrifice tonight.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    White Brunnhilde might look like the typical bar hopper, Stephen Strange looks like anything but. The wizard looks like he's a 1950's middle class working man. Black slacks, black blazer, red tie and a white shirt with simple shoes and a belt even. He does wear an over coat, down to his knees for the warmth against the New York cold.

    Stepping into the bar, he might draw some attention, but if he does, the doctor doesn't seem to mind. He walks casually and calmly towards Brunnhilde, even making a motion to the person who might have been seated next to her or not to find somewhere else to sit, like a jedi. "You're... far from home aren't you." Stephen says, making small talk as he sits down, setting the over coat down on the bartop before him and lifting his hand asking for a bartender, but that gesture doesn't seem to be responded to in this day and age.

Brunnhilde has posed:
No one can remove Jimmy from his throne, not even Brunnhilde has bothered because he just keeps coming back.  The fact that this guy is so out of place Brunnhilde is sure will get jumped in about two minutes after he leaves this place /and/ has managed to usurp Jimmy gets her attention...at least until he opens his mouth.

"Is that the best line you can come up with?" Brunnhilde looks upwards even though she knows Odin will never save her.  Especially not from this.  She's had too much experience to know by now.  "You going to walk me home or something?  At least buy me a few dozen drinks before you get your slum on."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Oh, the drinks are coming, but I'm not slumming. We know you'd break me like a olive branch." Stephen notes as he keeps his scarred hand held up, waiting for a bartender to notice and come serve him a drink. The wizard releases a breath and then glances back towards Brunnhilde. "You keep looking up. He's not going to answer you. Not sure why you expect anything different." Stephen says with a lift of one of his eyebrows.

Brunnhilde has posed:
'We?'  That gets a minor arch of Brunnhilde's eyebrow.  She scoffs at more than one thing.  "I'm roll-" it's a reflex reserved for every tourist that intrudes on this place and the territory of any regulars.  Maybe she grew to like Jimmy like some unneeded organ that just keeps hanging around till one finally realizes it has grown on you and maybe, okay /maybe/ serves some purpose.

But that reflex is truncated abruptly, violently by Stephen's words, which hit her a little late.  She turns slightly, head propped against her elbow as she squints the man down.  "I don't.  Haven't in a long long time.  I'm cursing him for this lovely evening."  Brunnhilde has lost all semblance of play, evident when she reaches for the bottle and chugs it so fast that the bartender doesn't even have a chance to protest.  She's already paid and Brunnhilde has helped keep the peace here, in a way, more than one time in the past.

When the woman stands, the reinforced stool groans under the shift of such weight.  She doesn't go through the front door.  She goes right toward the alley exit in the back.  Brunnhilde wouldn't be so rude as to make a scene for one of her regular haunts.  Or they wouldn't let her back!

Assuming this stranger has followed her, she says, "What in Hel do you want man?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen doesn't say a word as he watches Brunnhilde stand up and move from the bar, so with a nod to the bartender and a simple enough motion of him paying for his tab. A cool easy 5 bucks is left where his coat was as he pulls it back on while following the Valkyrie.

    "I." Stephen takes a pause as he watches his breath and turns to face Brunnhilde and frowns. "I got your sword stolen. I failed in my duties."

Brunnhilde has posed:
Brunnhilde's expression hardens at Stephen's words.  Wrath in those eyes.  "You did /what/?"  It's only through centuries of living and obviously thinking it's not worth her time that Brunnhilde doesn't slam Strange up against the wall.  She does, however, take a step.  "What are you?  Some shit intern replacement?  Fuck.  Midgard is fucking doomed," a clear comment on his position which she infers.  "Who took it?" she demands, at the very least not piling another insult.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I'm the Sorcerer Supreme. Master of the mystic arts. Doctor Stephen Strange." He says, though the luster isn't exactly there as she's giving voice to the emotions he's been feeling of late. His hands find the pockets of the coat as he's suddenly regressing emotionally and feeling quite self conscious about them. "Dragonfang was forceably removed from my home by Amora..." He says, lowering his chin and is about to say more-

Brunnhilde has posed:
Brunnhilde, especially drunk Brunnhilde, clearly doesn't give a flying fuck about Stephen's feelings.  As far as she is concerned (and her tone), it's exactly the way he should be feeling.  "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!" she shouts as she moves swiftly toward him.  If he thought she was pissed before when she thought maybe some of his drunken buddies swiped it...what does she know, her expectations are low at this point and she doesn't care.  "Do you have any clue?!"  Brunnhilde punches the wall with a loud CRUNCH.

"What did she do?  Get in your pants?"  Look, Brunnhilde won't admit it, but she's been there.  It's /Amora/.  The former valkyrie's jaw is set.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "She walked into my house, and she defeated me, my student, and my houses very wards without a drop of sweat. Though-" Stephen pauses and closes his eyes as debris from the wall flies off from her punch and pelts his face and eyes and he has to protect himself even slightly from the painful pelts.

    Stephen doesn't shy away from her anger though, he knows and understands her rage and her validation. "My student burried the sword in a statue with a spell that none but the swords weilder can remove it from the stone. And yet Amora took the statue and my student with her..." Stephen keeps his hands in his pockets. "I need your help."

Brunnhilde has posed:
"She would."  There's obvious history.  If it wasn't clear before, if Stephen though maybe it was just shock at Dragonfang falling into other hands, there is no doubt now.  The mention of Stephen's poor though quick thinking student makes her sigh.  She already knew she'd have to do something about this.  She stares at Stephen quietly with that stoic but grumpy consideration as if weighing something.  "I'm trying to decide whether you'll be a help or a hindrance."

Pause.  Shrug.  He can always be a human shield, and though Brunnhilde won't admit it at this juncture, she is vulnerable to Amora's magic all on her own.  Suddenly there's a reluctant but flippant air about her.  This is an annoyance, even if it's serious.  "You'll be a good distraction.  If she hasn't gotten anymore tricks up her sleeve, she's still absolute shit at anything beyond that."  And probably seduction.

"She might have control of your student by now," Brunnhilde warns seriously.  "Yes.  I'll help you," she explicitly states as if begrudgingly making an oath.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I'm going to help, but she's more than she's ever been before." Stephen tries to warn. "She had a staff, something I've never seen before never felt before. It... it was incredible. She walked into my house without a single problem." Stephen reiterates. "My house has wards surrounding and enveloping it."

    Stephen takes a breath and frowns deeply. "I will help you any way I can, I will even lead the charge against her, but with that staff in her hand, she may be beyond what I can do." The wizard says with a deep frown.

Brunnhilde has posed:
"Of course she does," Brunnhilde looks around as if there might be more shitty news that might eke it's way out of the brick.  "Okay.  Then we need to enlist more help."  It's not the whiskey that is brewing a knot in her stomach and it isn't fear.  "Honestly I don't know any sorcerers or sorceresses," not after Amora and dropping off Dragonfang.  "Seemed like a good idea to steer clear of them after my last run in with her," to put their history mildly.  "My people think I'm dead," save for Sif, "and I'm not sure they'd jump at the chance to help given how I up and left my post."  As Stephen says, Odin isn't going to bail her out.

Dragonfang is /her/ responsibility, though she doesn't need Odin's glare to know that.  It's a mantle she's born on her heart since she first took up her calling so many years ago.  "Time to go shopping," she says with a sarcastic though half-hearted grin.  "Unless you know anyone we can recruit, I figure I can go act like a damsel in distress and convince one of those strapping Kryptonians to aid us."  Obviously, the idea is /dripping/ with sarcasm.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "I've a few people I can call on in emergencies." Strange says with a look to Brunnhilde and takes a breath before stepping closer to her. "I'm going to need some time to gather the people needed. I've got one person already trying to break her way in and learn something, anything she can about Amora and her fortress, assuming she has one." Stephen says and then pulls a hand from his pocket. "I'll get you a weapon, for now, come find me here after you've sobered up." Stephen says, passing out a piece of paper with an address on it and he turns to start walking away.

Brunnhilde has posed:
"She'll be in her tower."  How does Brunnhilde know?  Well she knows she's being targeted.  "It's me she wants, so we can use that to our advantage, but she knows we will.  The tower will be heavily fortified by wards, traps, whatever she can muster so she can sling more our way.  She likely will have control over various monsters or creatures.  Golems, whatever.  She has no compunctions over anyone or anything she can dominate."  It's not anything she probably won't relay again to anyone who jumps on this train of insanity.  She says nothing about the sobering up comment.  Fat chance, but she'll let him think she's sober if he wants.  She won't be popping a mentos for this guy.

Brunnhilde takes the paper and stuffs it in her back pocket before walking back into the bar to bitch to Jimmy about amateurs...in a single sentence.  To her satisfaction, she'll get an efficient grunt in reply.