2019-05-13 - Warming Up


Warming up for weapon's practice with Lady Sif.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Mon May 13 04:55:45 2019
Location: RP Room 6

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The invitation was for weapons training - if he's gonna be rolling with the warriors of Asgard and Alfheim, he's gotta be up to snuff. So Buck's showed up with a duffle bag over his shoulder, complete with workout gear. Bright-eyed and eager - it'll be pleasant to know he's going to face a challenge. And maybe do a little to redress his previous impression as a drunken lout, when it comes to Lady Sif. He's sent where-ever it is the immortals train.

Kai isn't a warrior of Alfheim so much as a pampered lord of Alfheim, but he's here and armed with a pair of wicked looking knives. Those who pay attention to such things might notice that a pendant he usually wears isn't on him, but the chain is. He twirls the knives idly as he walks around to loosen up a bit. For a pampered lordling, he doesn't seem too foreign to the idea of self-defense.

Sif is also already in the exercise area, wearing her accustomed casual garb from Asgard: simple leather trousers with a sleeveless linen shirt belted over top, her usual boots with metal greaves strapped over her shins and matching vambraces covering hear arms from wrist to elbow.

And her hair is still left loose.

"Warrior Bucky. Lord Kai. Thank you both for agreeing to meet." Her buckler and sword are resting on a nearby bench, along with a selection of other weapons, both real metal ones and wooden analogs.

And she's still amazing, even in the light of day with Buck stone-cold sober and changed into his own gear. His smile is, as a result, a little dippy. "I'm just Bucky, ma'am," he says, politely. "I usedta be Sergeant Barnes, but….that doesn't really stand up these days." He gives Kai a sidelong grin. "'s my honor. What're we gonna work on today?" he asks, not really directing the question to either of them in particular.

Kai is himself in a linen shirt, but he prefers jeans to leather. "Are they still jerking you around at the VA?" he says to Bucky. "I finally got my account cleared up. Turns out I'm kind of rich. I mean Midgard-rich, not just rich from home." He laughs a little. "Last time I was here, I lived in a horrid little walkup in Hell's Kitchen and panhandled to eat." He looks to Sif, taking her lead for what they'll be doing today.

Sif doesn't miss the still slightly besotted smile Bucky sends her way. She's seen similar from stable boys. She'll ignore it… for now.

"As you have stated your willingness to assist us, I thought it best to ensure that you are properly armed, attired, and prepared." She gestures to the benchful of weapons.

Obediently, he wanders over to inspect them, lifting the genuine weapons first. "What about….does Midgardian technology work there? Does it do real damage?" he wonders, as he hefts a hand and a half sword. "I'm more used to firearms, truth be told…." Then he's looking at the bows, as if they might be a compromise. "YEah," he says to Kai, tiredly. "I mean, I get it, I'm a special case, but jeeze, you'd think they'd be better at the bureaucracy these days."

Kai shakes his head. "Bureaucracy," he says. "It doesn't get better. They've got no incentive." He continues to twirl the knives, an idle and busy movement. "Show up with one of those machine guns, see if they can get the paperwork through." He smiles toothily. Then he moves into an elusive, acrobatic turn, coming around with the knives positioned to stab the throat of an unseen, imaginary foe. So cheerful, so deadly. "Do we know where the bow is yet, Lady Sif?"

"I do not, but I assure you, you will both know as soon as I do." As they'll likely all be there when the Godkiller's location is discovered. "While your firearms might be useful, Bucky," and she can't help but have a brief mental image of the man shooting flames from his arms like a sorcerer, "but if we are in a situation where close quarters combat is needed…" She lets that sentence trail off and reaches for one of the wooden swords similar in size and weight to the hand and a half. "There are better weapons than one's bare hands."

"I dunno, you haven't met my bare hands," he murmurs under his breath. A laugh for Kai. "Don't think I haven't been tempted. Maybe I should be a bit more threatening. I try not to play on my rep as the Soldier….and honestly, the average bureaucrat isn't likely to know, but…..enh. I should really bring Steve. He'll charm the pants off 'em."

Sif gets a nod, and he takes a step back, swinging it experimentally. Then back to the rack - looking for something more saber-like, single edged.

"I was never good with swords," Kai says, "but these knives were made especially for me by a dwarf. They're ridiculously intuitive." He twirls them again, then clasps them together. They fold in upon themselves, and in again, until they're in the impossible crescent shape of his much smaller pendant, which he reattaches to the chain around his neck. "Oh, yeah, I bet they'll speed it up for Captain America." He glances at the rack of weapons with idle curiosity. "It's good to have a blade, in any case. Bullets run out, and they don't even stop people like us."

Sif watches Kai's blades, clearly impressed. "Those are clearly well-crafted blades, Kai. What manner of blade are you looking for, Bucky?" She sets the wooden sword back down to try and help him pick somethign that suits his taste. It doesn't help that she can tell he's a warrior, but knows almost nothing about Midgardian combat styles.

"I'm not sure, truth be told," Buck says, looking over with a glint of envy in his eyes. "I mean, what I know is ….combat knives. Kind of like what Kai's got there. I don't have a whole lot of training with swords and spears and stuff. Closest thing I do know….'s called a saber. Single edged, curved, one handed…."

Kai wanders over to the weapons. "Something you can keep at your hip maybe," he says, "Not too long, if you're trained with knives." He smiles at Sif. "They were a gift from a friend. I used to patrol the streets back in the old days and I scared some trouble away from his door. He repaid me more than I could've asked."

"Oh. I have not heard of 'saber' before. Perhaps these will suffice, then?" She pulls a matched pair of knives from where they had them strapped to the back of her belt, each single-edged and gently curved blade about as long as her forearm. She reverses them in her hands and offers them to Bucky hilt first.

To Kai she asks curiously, "This friend, was this on Alfheim, or here on Midgard?"

Buck makes a little noise of approval, a low thrum, almost feline, as he's given those knives. He tests the balance of each in turn, tries them, turns for a few lunges and thrusts. "That's good," he says, and there's a new, acquisitive note in his voice. Asgardians get the best toys. Kai gets a big, bright grin - that particular one likely last seen in southern France, in 1944, when someone handed him a new Sten gun.

"It was here in New York," Kai tells Sif. "He was just passing through, staying in the city for awhile, and I helped him out. He made these." He grins at Bucky. "You're like a kid in a candy store, man." He stretches, then swings his arms at his sides. "I should look that guy up, but I bet he's long since moved on."

Sif nods her approval as Bucky tests the weight and balance of her two small blades, though the little pleased noise the man makes is … different. She takes a moment to remove their scabbards from her belt to offer to him.

"Perhaps you should, Kai. Our allies in this quest may need weapons or armor that we do not have access to here on Midgard even if we had permission to hand them out freely." With that, she turns back to Bucky. "I am not allowed to give you these blades," she says, as if she would even think about it. They're HERS, but the rules would apply to any blade of Aesir make. "Midgardians are not yet ready for the knowledge of how they were forged."

He doesn't look too upset about it - as if he'd suspected from the get-go it couldn't be real. "Understood," he says, mildly. "I gotcha. Am I allowed to use 'em on this trip, or should I just go with my own gear?" God only knows what he'll bring.

"I'll look for him," Kai says, "but I would be very surprised if he's still around." He folds his arms over his chest and watches Bucky with the blade. "It's really cool," he says, "how they're forged." He's not going to say anything, though. Not when Lady Sif just said Midgardians aren't ready for the knowledge.

"As long as you and those blades stay within my sight, they don't have to be wielded by my hands." She's kind of bending a technicality in the restrictions against Midgardian use of Aesir weaponry, but it's in that grey area that will likely allow her to get away with it.

"Now, perhaps, a bit of sparring so that you may gain familiarity with those blades?" She steps over to the bench and picks up a pair wooden pratice knives with straight blade sections that are about five inches longer than the loaned curved blades.

Kai's words earn him the beginning of a sharp glance, but when he doesn't say anything more, she relents. "Are you only practiced with your blades, Kai? Or have you studied other weapons?"

The mortal cocks his head, a funny, birdlike gesture. "Yes, ma'am," Buck says, with a slow smile. He was in the Army long enough to know the sound of someone bending the rules until they creaked. Then he nods to her, as if waiting for her signal, or further explanation of the rules.

"Just the knives," Kai says. "I'm no warrior, though. I'm more likely to use trickery than force. The knives are a last resort." He paces idly. "I can manipulate water, I can use illusions, I have a few other tricks up my sleeves, too."

"I have learned that such skills can often assist in ways that a strong blade cannot," Sif says as she steps into the middle of the open space. If only Loki heard her say that. A shame he didn't, really.

"The rules of the match are simple. Strike with just enough force to leave a mark but not seriously injure or kill. When a mark is made, we step back and begin gain. Three marks indicates the winner of the match. Kai, if you see a mark that one of us does not acknowledge, call for us to stop."

She hefts the wooden weapons for a moment as if getting a feel for their weight and balance, then steps back into a battle-ready stance with both blades raised once Bucky is ready.

"A'right," says Buck. He settles into his own ready stance - it bears the clear stamp of the Russian training. That's his default; American commandos really didn't do two blade style, at least in his day. The pale eyes are wary, gauging - Asgardians are not people with whom to fuck.

Kai finds a patch of wall to lean against and folds his arms over his chest. The Elf, it would seem, is here to watch. After all, he's not the muscle in this ragtag gang. Just what he is is anyone's guess. He settles into a casual stance, but the observant might notice he's watching the pair of sparrers like a hawk.


The Captain's phone pinged on his drive home from work. The chime resonated in his ear-piece, synced to the device, and while he waited at the umpteenth red light of the evening between a cab and a delivery truck, he checked his phone. Ah — time to change destination, he knows where the Embassy is. The Harley revs to life again and rather than going straight, Steve takes it down a side-street towards another borough in the city.

After parking in the visitor's section, he walks into the building. He takes a moment to admire the internal architecture before he makes his way to where he can hear a discussion occurring. It's in English, and one part of it has a familiar accent, so clearly…

"It's a fete." Steve saunters into the room to the sight of imminent sparring and does slow, looking from Kai and towards the combatants. "It's…still a fete?"


Sif watches Bucky alertly, making a mental note of his posture and which hand he appears to be leading with. Then, she moves. She's easily super soldier fast, and she lunges forward in a feint, trying to divert the Midgardian's attention to the hand she usually keeps her sword in while darting her buckler-hand in to strike almost at the same moment.

Steve's arrival goes unremarked, possibly unnoticed? Unlikely.

Very fast, indeed. He doesn't let himself be distractedby Steve showing up, but even then, it's a very near thing, and it takes him nearly tipping himself backwards over his own feet to keep from getting it. But he's not able to try a coordinate riposte, instead back pedalling to get distance.

Kai smiles broadly at Steve. "We're sparring," he says. "If we're going to go on an adventure together, it's good to figure out how we fight." He gestures to Sif and Bucky. "We're just getting started, if you want to join us. I say 'we' but I'm mostly watching. I'm a lover, not a fighter."


"I'll be audience for now, I think." Steve's bemused given his tone of voice and he does wince slightly at the disparity in reaction time between Midgardian and Asgardian. He makes his way over to stand beside Kai and lean back against the wall, his hands still in his pockets.

"Five bucks he trips over himself at least once," he mutters sotto-voce to the Elf with a wicked little grin.


Sif doesn't give Bucky any quarter, chasing him as he backpedals though she does aim to flank him a bit. It's as much to keep him in the sparring area as to angle for another attack. Which, of course, she does in the reverse of previous. She leads with her left this time, possibly trying to confused the Midgardian. It's clear he's had some training, but from what she's seen thus far, not nearly enough to be acceptable in her mind.

Now….now he rallies. As if his brain had finally accepted that she's his equal in speed. He turns, tight and nimble, keeping his guard up…and his own left hand lashes out in a parry, even as the right hand follows through for an attempt at a strike.

"Let's see if he gets distracted by her beauty," Kai asides to Steve. "Watching her in battle is enough to turn even my head." He watches the sparring pair. "I know I can't keep up with her in a fight, but I'm bulletproof, so I do all right. My plan is not getting caught in a fight in the first place."


"It's a wise idea," Steve comments. "Never look for a fight when there isn't one there. If there's one there, then throw a punch and don't back down." Wisdom of the ages from the rock of 'I remember that alley and that alley and man, those nosebleeds'. "He'll hold his own."

The Captain sounds firm in his belief even as he watches with keen attention. The lithe grace of the Soldier is all well and good on a Midgardian battlefield, but he knows of Sif if only through the regalings of Thor himself and the man has never been sparing of his praise for the warrior-woman.


Sif very intentionally takes the parry to the vambrace on her arm and hooks her hand around Bucky's left wrist to try and twist the blade out of his grip while at the same time stabbing the wooden practice weapon in her left hand toward the Midgardian's ribcage. The twist against the man's arm has just enough force behind it that it would dislocate a normal Terran's wrist and possibly their elbow.

She has no idea about Bucky's metal arm and is not factoring it in at all.

That makes him scowl, just a little. His arm, being what it is, is utterly fine with her attempted twist….he's snaking it around to try and stab her with the left hand. There's a strange screeching of metal, as he turns, trying to evade the blade. He mostly succeeds, but it's enough of a touch that he raises his other hand in surrender.

Kai pushes off the wall to pour out two glasses of water. No mead during sparring, apparently. He brings one of the glasses to Steve and says, "I used to fight in the shadows," he says, "and my enemies were poverty and lost hope. I brought food and medicine to the old and forgotten, and I beat up thugs who threatened the poor people I lived among. Most of my enemies never saw me. But they were Midgardians. Not much of a challenge."


A small wince from Steve, seen more about the corners of his light eyes than anything else, at the impact of blade to vambrace. He glances over at Kai when he returns and accepts the glass of water with a nod of thanks. A deep sip of it and he listens, noticeable by the slight tilt of his head towards the Elf despite his visual attention on the sparring.

"Glad you were on our side then." He gives Kai a small smile. "Bet they never saw you coming - and I bet you met some interesting people in the process. Rubbing elbows with riffraff like that is never boring."


Sif promptly steps back, her hands dropping to her sides though she's looking at Bucky with a but more curiosity than before. "Are you wearing armor under your garb, Bucky?" She's not asking in a 'you cheated' kind of way, more simple curiosity about the metallic noise she heard. She is also glad that she chose the wooden practice weapons over real blades.

"Inform me when you are ready to proceed."

He looks embarrassed, does Buck. "Ma'am, lemme show you somethin'…." And with that, he simply reaches up to pull his t-shirt over his head, taking the sleeve with it. She might as well see what she'll be travelling with. There's the alloy arm on full display, from the ugly line of scarring, down to the fish-scale-fine plates of the fingers.

Kai's eyes widen. "No way," he says in a low tone. Then, with a ripple of laughter, he adds, "That is so cool. Is that real?" He looks to Steve. Surely Steve would know about the arm, all things considered. "Where did it come from? Can I get one?" He flexes his off hand thoughtfully. Surely he doesn't need both. "I want mine to be made out of silver, though. So I could punch werewolves."


"It's real," the blond says from his easy lean on the wall. Steve doesn't step in to interfere in any way, but watches with an easy readiness to step into the situation in case of a true issue.

"I have heard that silver is the best way to go about dealing with werewolves. Never had to do it myself." And yes, he does count himself lucky for this fact. He takes another huge gulp of the water before finding a place to set it aside for now.


Sif watches Bucky pull his shirt off, honestly unfazed by it considering how many times other Aesir warriors do the exact same thing during sparring. The metal arm, though, that is something completely different.

"Is this the work of the dwarves?" She steps closer to study Bucky's arm but doesn't even attempt to touch. "It is ceratainly not Midgardian steel." She then puts both wooden weapons into her left hand and pulls another, smaller blade from under the vambrace on her arm. She holds it in a manner not at all implying combat and holds it near — but still not touching — Barnes' arm. "It does not appear to be orichalcum, either. How did you come by this?"

He huffs humorless laughter. "Not dwarves like you guys reckon 'em. No. It's not silver or steel. No one's honestly sure, though I've heard said that it's at least partially an element called vibranium." No shame at all….though Steve and Kai know that he's usually intensely shy about displaying the arm, let alone the graft line on his chest. "Scientists made it. I….." He looks down and past her. "Was a prisoner among our enemies, and they used me to conduct experiments. My arm was already damaged, but they could've saved it to the elbow." Which means most of it was a very deliberate cruelty.

Kai tells Steve, "I've never met a werewolf, but I was run down by dire wolves once. Got my throat ripped out. I bet a silver punch would mess up their day, big time." His brow furrows as he catches Bucky's expression, and his features soften. "I'm glad you're back with us now," he tells the soldier. "That it's in the past, and you're among friends." There's a sincerity to the Elf that one might mistake for naivete.


A flick of eyebrows high at the tale told to him. "You recovered great, I can't see any scars. They'll regret messing with you again," Steve replies to Kai. Then, quietly as a ghost and yet unavoidably present, the Captain meanders up beside Bucky.

"It's like my shield, the one I carry with the star on it," he offers up to Sif as comparison and parallel to the arm on display. "The vibranium comes from only one place in the world and we're some of the few folks who have access to it." He lingers beside the man, hands in the pockets of his jacket. By the bead he has on the combatants, the sparring is paused for now, at least.


Sif's eyes move to study Bucky himself as she returns the knife to its hidden spot under her vambrace. "That you have not only survived such curel treatment but remained an honorable warrior speaks highly of your strength, Warrior Bucky. Very few could boast similar, even amongst the Aesir. Shall we proceed?" She quickly and with the ease of practice removes her vambraces and sets them aside, as if in concession to Bucky's having shed his shirt and whatever was concealing his arm from casual view.

Her forearms are noticeably paler than her upper arms. Clearly, she wears the armor more often than not.

"I didn't, though," he says, quietly, even as he pulls his shirt back on. "They didn't just mutilate me. They had me under a kind of….mind magic. I was their slave." His tone is utterly flat, devoid of anger or grief or self-pity. Kai gets a little smile in thanks, and he picks up the blades, again.

"Oh, I died," Kai tells Steve. "Went to the underworld and everything, but I had some damn good friends back in the day, and I suspect my grandmother had a hand in getting me back. There's no way that stubborn bull of a woman would let death have me when she's not done yet. All in all, being murdered was my worst breakup."

His quick gaze darts to Bucky, and he smiles as he says, "That notwithstanding, Warrior Bucky, you stand among us today, not among them. One doesn't get where you are today without strength and will."


Noting that the sparring is to begin again, the Captain returns to his place on the wall and takes up his easy lean, hands still in his pockets. "No better way to put it," he replies quietly to Kai in particular. "You've got this." It's fond cheerleading on his part to Bucky in particular now.


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