6132/The hunt is on!

The hunt is on!
Date of Scene:	05 May 2021
Location:	Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Sif, Hope Svelgate

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Loki has posed:
Disagreements are rarely 'over and done with' when it comes to the Aesir, or to any other of those that inhabit the nine, well, eight Realms (Midgard doesn't count in thie regard). There is always something that lingers, either like a fine honeyed wine or a bitter vine that has turned to vinegar on the tongue. And because of quite an extended lifespan that measures into the thousands of years, slights too are long lived.

As prime example, take the blot that just passed. It could have been an evening of too much singing, too much dancing, and too much- no, there is never too much drinking, but they could have at least attempted it! But alas, Hela, Queen Hela had to arrive and harvest souls; a maneuver that Loki still views as inappropriate and worthy of some semblance of retaliation.

There are times when the Prince of Asgard leads a charmed life. Not only did he wish it, it was granted by some Fate or other. (The Norns will never 'fess up, regardless, so...)

The ever watching eye of Heimdall noted movement; movement that should not be upon the face of Midgard without potentially dire consequences. The large, blood-covered hellhound that could give Aesir warriors a fight worthy of them stalks the Earth, and ironically, or unironically, it walks the streets of New York City- Hell's Kitchen.

It hasn't yet fed; instead, it searches for a den. The strangeness of the location sends it to ground, but the citizens of the area won't be that lucky for long.

In a moment of uncharacteristic lightness, Heimdall doesn't actually //say// where the hound is laid up; that would be unsporting. What he does do, however, is to allow for the tranport of hunting dogs and horses from the kennels and stables of the Palace itself.

***

Loki is there, then, his raiment in that hunter green with gold trims of leather, and riding boots as he sits astride a deep brown horse with only flecks of white upon its brow. He leans forward, resting briefly as he waits for the others, reins loosely held in hand. He cares not that people are staring at him, as the horse and rider are in the middle of, yes, New York City, upon a sidewalk... dogs seated dutifully at their master's horse's feet.

Sif has posed:
Sif, excited at hearing from Heimdall that a hunt was afoot, had brow-beaten her brother into taking her straight to her estates from Midgard so she could assemble the most exquisite hunting ensemble. A basic tunic in wine, with a wide white leather belt cinching it at the waist to show off her form and provide a place for assorted weaponry to hang. A skirt of baltea, studded white leather straps, hung from the belt reaching to mid-thigh where the tunic ended in perfect synchronization. Tall ox blood boots with the kinds of soles designed to give grip in slippery, bloody conditions while stomping foes to pulp covered up to just shy of the knee, nicely decorated with inlays. A silver cuirass afforded protection for her chest and welded loops at the shoulder provided a hanging point for the red woolen cloak with ermine trim. Her battle sword, naturally, was present at her waist, along with a pair of main gauche daggers and, of all things, a spiked mace.

Her similarly resplendent pegasus was pawing eagerly, ready for battle, with extra weapons holstered for her use: a long cavalry spear, three stubby throwing javelins, and even a bow with a saddle quiver.

Sif is out for blood and her face is lit with joy.

Two handlers from her estate have with them each three war hounds on tight leashes, ready to let slip for battle. Unlike Loki's beasts, hers are eager and spoiling for a fight.

"Nice outfit," she says to Loki when Bifrost deposits her alongside the rest. "You've always had taste. And your dogs. Such handsome beasts. Don't let them come to harm!"

Her dogs would not be called handsome by anybody. They look half-wild and barely controlled.

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Lady Death stands within her Sanctuary, an abandoned gothic church in Hell's Kitchen where many of the city's earthbound spirits of the dead dwell. She stands before a trio of magnificent stained glass windows. Their magnificence goes deeper than their beauty though, as these windows are empowered by the spirits of the place to sometimes shift the images they display, magically piercing space and time to show scenes of other places, and sometimes even the future, where mystical threats are occuring.

Lady Death stares at the images appearing within the glass for a moment, they're all too familiar. There is no need to rend time and space to arrive in time, the creature is stalking her own backyard of Hell's Kitchen. It is no ordinary beast either, and she can't help but wonder if it is connected to other crossings of late, even if it is clearly one of Hel's beasts rather than the demons who dwell in some of the more fiery realms.

Turning away from the mystic windows, Lady Death raises a hand and unleashes a hunting hound of her own so to speak, a flare of Energy Arcane shoots off like a Will'o'Wisp floating through the night to locate the beast. That done she weaves the glamour of Hope Svelgate about herself and pulls on a hooded black cloak. No sense attracting any more eyes than necessary, at least until she is away from the Sanctuary. Though it is hidden from mortal eyes, one can never be too careful.

And with that she sets out, Lady Death has joined the hunt.

Loki has posed:
Loki shifts in his saddle, his hands set one upon the other resting upon the pommel, as he watches Sif's arrival with her pegasus and slavering hounds that are ready for the work before them. Inclining his head in greeting, he offers up, "Lady Sif,". Then, he smiles, the expression seemingly genuine as he straightens his back and nods towards her dogs, his tones easy and conversationally.. teasing.

"Have you fed them of late?"

With a soft whistle directed to his 'kennel', the hunting dogs rise to their feet, keen eyes and keener noses searching the air before them.

*Baroooo!* one whoofs.. and then the next, and the next...

"I am going to take great pleasure in this," and Loki pulls up on his reins in order to turn his horse slightly, away from street traffic. "It's been some time since I've gotten to ride a hunt."

Sif has posed:
"I always have a run's worth of dogs ill-fed. We circulate through the kennel. The ill-fed ones are the killers when we hunt or go to war." Sif's pegasus takes to the air, like Loki before her simply ignoring the stares of mortals.

Well, except for that very showy ullulating battle cry she releases. The Vanir are crazy version of the Aesir sometimes.

Her footmen dog handlers follow as best they can in her wake, running behind, but near Loki as above, in the sky, Sif readies her cavalry spear couching it and ready to run something through. Her superior eyes, second only to Heimdall, rake the ground below, looking for any hint of the beast's passage.

"Would you care for a little wager, Prince?" she calls down. "Whoever gets the killing blow receives a thousand gold from the other!"

Overconfident little minx, in't she?

Hope Svelgate has posed:
Hope Svelgate was making her way through the streets of Hell's Kitchen, following in the wake of her tracking spell as it guided her towards the evening's quarry. Even disguised as a mortal and with a hooded cloak pulled over her, the tall muscular blond clad in leather with an outfit occupying some sort of between space between Biker and Goth gets more than a few head turns, but still far less attention than she would without the illusion. The illusion mortal illusion at least is not Wanted for questioning by several governments and international law enforcement organizations.

The appearance of another powerful mystic energy source, however, splits her attention when the Asgardians appear. It looks like things are suddenly about to get a whole lot more interesting.

With much of the mortal attention now on the flashy Asgardian duo, Lady Death takes the opportunity to drop the illusion. Still wearing her cloak, she surrounds her feet with the power of the Energy Arcane and takes to the skies to more swiftly hunt her prey. Certain that the flashy ones will catch up soon enough.

Loki has posed:
Loki watches the great wings emerge from being tucked in, and the pegasus takes to the air, his rider with it. As it rises, Loki follows its progress, holding reins on his own horse as it stamps and begins a little jig as if to tell its rider that it really is ready to go. Enough standing around!!!

Loki whistles again to his dogs, and they begin to fan out in front of him, the baying beginning in questioning *whoofs* as they seek a scent to hit upon. His own charger begins a slow trot, the *clop*clop* of hooves against pavement ringing down the block.

"A wager?" Green eyes lift once again, his smile turning into something more like a smirk, "Thousand it is," is agreed. "Killing blow-"

Before Loki can say more, however, another flying steed joins the hunt, after a fashion, and Loki exhales, the eyeroll certainly present upon his face and in the breath. He's more than happy to remain on the ground; it's a HUNT, and his dogs are searching the scent as his horse covers ground in a casual pace, its ears perked forward. What a sight the group makes!

Sif has posed:
A subtle signal from above and Sif's huntsmen slip the leashes on her dogs, releasing them to run ahead, heedless of the orderly way in which Loki's dogs are progressing. From above laughter escapes her lips at the chaos she's sown in Loki's ranks, swooping down, whistling a particular way, to goad her dogs forward after they've disrupted Loki's hunt.

The little overconfident minx is cheating as well.

Lady Death's sudden arrival is met with a raised lance in salute. "Come join the fun, Death! We have one of Hela's own hounds here. A worthy target for hunting!" She pauses a second to send a mischievous grin down Loki's way, thoroughly enjoying the tableau of entropy she's caused. "Just make sure you let me have the killing strike!" she adds to Lady Death. "I'll get a thousand gold that way. I'll split it with you!"

Hope Svelgate has posed:
The white haired white woman with blue energy arcane emanating from white eyes like fire turns as the Asgardians catch up. She doesn't seem too surprised to see Sif, not after their recent meeting, though the prince of Asgard she is with is another matter. Still Sif had told her about the increased comings of Asgardians to Midgaard of late and it's not like Thor isn't constantly in the news with various Avengers shenanigans.

"So it would seem." Lady Death smiles, floating there in the air, her cloak and hair fluttering in the evening wind. "Best to slay it quickly." She glances down in Loki's direction, "Already making bets?" Though she doesn't seem surprised by this either. "Perhaps I should have brought my own wolves and steed." She shrugs and suddenly tears off through the sky, her spell seems to have found a target.