Summary:A Bilgesnipe slipping through a broken rift is cause for concern in Central Park. It takes teamwork between Asgardians and Midgardians alike to get the lost beast home! Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Now, Santa had his reindeer — and they're charming things! They're all aptly named with quaint little call-outs to their personalities. One even has a red nose!
But somewhere along the line, when things were all being stirred up into creation and being, somebody got a little drunk with the idea about a reindeer. They threw in some prehistoric terror, a little bit of prehensile thumbs, some teeth better belonging to a sabre-toothed cat, and then left it on Asgard to populate the lesser-traveled regions.
The Bilgesnipe.
Tough-skinned, with antlers wide as a small airplane's wingspan, they have a reputation for being truly scary.
And somehow…somehow?! — one is currently standing in Central Park. It's huge, it's lost, and it's irritated. Its bawling call echoes across the relatively empty section of the Park (thank god for bad weather) before it turns and swings its head hard enough to drop a century-old oak tree clean in half. Oh dear.
And Ambrose is pressed flat against another one nearby, his back flush to the cold rough bark, and he's praying to just about any god that the thing doesn't scent him. All he wanted was a walk!!!
Betty Brant was one to answer the wild calls of beasts in the wilds. Most didn't belong in this city and now that she was open to the idea of its many layers, their calls were not lost to her. There were wolves, giants, spectral beings and Gods of all kinds - this poor thing may just need someone to listen to it. To help it. The woman was kind to a dangerous fault.
She, too, wanted nothing but a walk that evening. An attempt to clear her mind of all its dizzying affects and random shocks of visions from time to time. She was walking, a light jog through the snow, practicing her languages, all before those howls shatter the ease of silent snow fall. Panting, she turns her head and pulls the buds down from her ears.
Gaze set, determined, she steps off the path and toward the noise, her steps leaving prints behind. There she sees it, that massive creature that was some twisted version of a rhino and deer. Swallowing, she rests her hands out and starts walking closer. "Shhh, easy now…" She coos gently, her nostrils flaring in some attempt to find that scent lingering on her senses. Was this what her vision was trying to tell her about?
Loki was out being Loki, that is to say he was out and about and messing with mortals. Currently he's in the guise of a bedraggled lost kitten - approaching random people mewling piteously, and then seeing just how much misbehavior he could get away with. Teleport, rinse, repeat. Sometimes a trickster god just has to do random shite! It is sort of part of the portfolio, you know?
Still, he was just climbing up pretty boy's back while his girlfriend fell over giggling at his wriggling when the bilgesnipe's plaintive cries draw Kitty-Loki's attention. He gets to the guys shoulder after climbing him like a tree, then head rubs while purring and leaps off to scamper.
A teleport and a shapeshift later, he is in full on Loki mode, complete with green and gold costume and armour, flaming sword sheathed at his back, and a broad smirk curving his lips as he approaches. It really does not surprise him that Betty Brant is on scene, and he steps up next to her. "Hello Betty, do be careful, these things like to eat meat." He observes as he walks beside her with hands clasped behind him.
Betty will find that the musk scented in her vision is expressed manifold around the Bilgesnipe itself. It hasn't brushed its teeth, after all, since its last meal, and some tendon strap is still hanging caught between its teeth. It recognizes her presence and immediately whips around to face Betty. To hear it growl is to feel thunder vibrate in one's chest.
Ambrose sticks his head out daringly to see just who in their right mind is attempting to sweet-talk such a monster! "Oh good — fucking bloody HELL, NO!" he chokes out to himself before ducking back behind the trees. Running his fingers through his hair, he growls to himself in Farsi about generalized idiocy before he steps into view again — and there's LOKI, of all people!
Ambrose's mouth opens and closes. He looks to the Bilgesnipe, now menacing both Betty and Loki with a lift of crested hair from skull to tail-less rear and a baring of teeth last seen in the Pliocene Era.
He gulps silently.
"I understand," she begins again, the roar shaking up her insides though she presses on. A step forward, another crunch closer, she keeps her hands up and swallows. "You're not suppose to be here. You're afraid and this isn't where you belong." With beast before her, it's the arrival of Loki that causes the woman to startle.
"Yes, I can see that, your highness. I feel bad for it. We can help it, right?"
Sigyn appears behind Loki, in a very neat teleport. No sparkles, no sound, just nothing there and then a blonde in ankle length skirt and cable-knit sweater. "Bilgesnipe, really? Our oven here is no where big enough…" Wait, what?
Then Sigyn sighs, and her mortal garb is replaced with Asgardian armor, complete with bow and quiver over one shoulder. "I am -not- dressing out that thing, Loki. It's your turn after that last hunt."
Unaware that Ambrose is nearby, mainly due to being a tad keyed up with the presence of the bilgesnipe, Loki shifts to be slightly in front of Betty Brant. He's not even slightly inclined to be heroic, of course, but he doesn't really want to lose the new priestess he and Sigyn were spending so much time and effort training up to do useful rites and such. Too much invested, or so he tells himself. There's a chance he might be a tad fond of the girl, she has spirit after all.
"Betty…typically we kill them, they're very good eating." His gaze shifts to where Sigyn appears moments before she does, and then he offers his wife a fond smile. "Actually…Betty seems intent on helping it, not making helpings of it, my wife."
Yes, he thinks that's madness, but madness can be fun!
The Bilgesnipe has no idea it's being considered as food. All it knows is it's lost, it's cold, and there are edible crunchy things in front of it that might taste good with ketchup. It takes a few stomping steps closer and roars again, this time dead at the convention of Asgardian and Midgardians alike. Its breath is absolutely rotten and potentially gag-inducing.
Ambrose blinks at the arrival of Sigyn. Where did she — out of nowhere — what?! Betty, at least, he recognizes, and so he skirts widely around to behind all present. "Don't mind me, simply accounting for personal space!" he calls out, British accent crisp and rounded in vowels through his childhood spent in Basra.
To anyone with magical Sight, he is indelibly marked by an ancient curse, luridly-red and inclined to coalesce as liquid garnet; it idly spins in melting streaks about his person, breaking and reforming, interested as all hell in the sparkling novas that are especially the Asgardian life-forces present.
Betty Brant knew Ambrose, but not in this form. He wasn't cute or cuddly, nor white of fur. His name was also NOT Rosebud. With Sigyn present, dressed in armor, the woman in jogging winter gear huffs out smoothly. "He's just afraid…" She explains, only to feel her partially braided hair to flip back against the battering of the beasts' breath. A hand up, she covers her nose and mouth, dragging her boots back in the snow. It was horrid, and she felt ill.
"I knew it'd be here. There was so much rage and confusion, followed by a wash of blood. Can't we just send it back from where it came from?" A glance toward Ambrose, she frowns. "You need to get out of here, sir!"
Sigyn sighs, "Help it? There are easier ways to hide bodies…" She looks at Betty with utter confusion. "It's a Bilgesnipe. They smell bad, eat people, and make baby bilgesnipes." She frowns, "Though it doesn't belong on Midgard… they don't have the ability to world walk on their own, either."
Sigyn teleports away from the rest of the group, choosing a point that will put her on the far side of the Bilgesnipe from Ambrose and Betty, and gives a long piercing whistle. Normally they hunt with a larger party, but Sigyn and Loki are fast teleporters, so they usually get the 'honor' of playing bait. But whether they decide to kill or relocate the beast, Sigyn needs to get it distracted from the squishy Midgardian types.
Ah, there he is. "Hello Ambrose." He greets the troublemaker…okay, the OTHER troublemaker. Betty and Sigyn might be surprised at how casually Loki takes the presence of the new arrival. And then the hideous stench of its breath pummels them, and even Loki has to control a gag response. "Oh, by Odin's left nut…that's fouler than old One-Eye's temper."
Why yes, Loki is VERY very respectful of his adopted father, why do you ask?
Sadly, he can't even mask the stench via his illusions -he- knows they're false, so they don't work so well on him.
He looks to Betty a moment, and shakes his head, then DOES cloak the stench in the area, at least the others will breathe a bit easier, right? He'll just cope.
"Well, it HAS been dimensionally displaced…" He looks to Sigyn, then nods as she 'ports and whistles. For his own part he'll stay next to Betty in case the thing isn't distracted. He IS one of the best swordsmen in Asgard, after all…and stronger than most to boot.
He does not draw his sword just yet, but he DOES palm a dagger. A precisely hurled nose shot will DEFINITELY get its attention. "Betty — extend your senses, see if you can feel the rift it had to come through…" Sure, make it a training session! With extra bonus danger for spice!
Oh dear, the Trickster God has recognized him. Ambrose's eyes go wide and he swallows hard again.
"Good evening and good luck!" he shouts back at all present before he claps his hand over his mouth. Oh god, that breath really is foul. A few more backward steps bring him beyond immediate reach of attack, though he does…choose to linger. That Bilgesnipe is brimming with life-force as well and this wouldn't be the first creature he had a hand in bringing down after the bleeding of it by more powerful beings. His eyes narrow and his pupils flash carmine-red.
Sigyn's whistle draws the Bilgesnipe's attention and it snarls before dragging its front claws at the dirt. A loud snort and there it goes, diving at her with maw wide and taloned fingers fully extended!
"What?" Betty asks, her brows quirking toward Loki. Sigyn was gone, whistling out and someone named Ambrose was being called out as well. New York was turning into such a small city oddly enough. "Can I even do that?" She asks, looking out and around the space of park as if something would glimmer in the dark for her. Some sign, some tell that whatever was happening was happening and why. At length, she shakes her head. "I can't feel anything. I can't…sense it."
With the monster making its way toward Sigyn, the woman doesn't seem to be able to keep herself steady. Growling she starts running, seeming eager to join the fight since this is apparently what it has to be. With a glimmer of shine in her eyes, the woman speaks under her breath, weaving together a few words in a tongue not really spoken much anymore (depending on the company of course). That light continues as the wind shimmers, creating from nothing what appear to be a trio of massive wolves. Each grows tense, fur flaring and prickling, baring their teeth and gums in a chorus of threat. With a movement of her fingers and a command on her voice, the beasts dark off in the monster's direction.
Sigyn vanishes when the beast is about two feet from her, reappearing further away and off slightly to the right, and gives another of those piercing whistles. That's the game, to let it almost catch you and then teleport away but still in it's line of sight, keeping it chasing the bait rather than any squishy mortals.
Fortunately Loki is masking the scent with illusion, so it will potentially help a bit? Regardless, he nods to Priestess Brant. "Yes, Betty…you should be able to if it is recent enough, we'll work on that another day." It isn't like Loki can world walk after all, oh, wait…he CAN!
And then it seems that battle is to be joined after all and the Jotun Prince /grins/. "Oh! Very NICE, Betty Brant. Very nice indeed."
For his own part he draws his sword, though he doesn't ignite the blade just yet, and as he hurls the dagger into the beast's arse he sort of 'shuffles' like a deck of card, his form spitting out several more of him around the beast as Sigyn does her bit to draw its ire, and he does his to keep it guessing. Teamwork!
And of COURSE Loki recognizes Ambrose, that curse he lives with is VERY distinctive to the Trickster's sight. He is sort of adept at cursing after all. "Thank you, Ambrose, we'll be sure to save you some."
Le Sigh, and HE is the one who will have to dress the carcass this time - Thus Spake Sigyn.
"…save me some?" the Jackal mouths to himself, disturbed out of his intense focus on weighing just when he might dive in and try to sap some life-force for himself. Did Loki just make that thing sound edible?! It's enough to have him stand there longer yet, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
Irritated at missing its quarry when Sigyn adroitly avoids its pounce, the Bilgesnipe turns to follow the whistle yet. Its own roar drowns out the approach of Betty's wolves. Dismay is quick to follow when they engage. It swats out distractedly towards Sigyn before whirling to swat and snap at the summoned wolves. Broad antlers lead the turn of its head, strong enough to fell old trees and send Asgardians flying with a good swat. The sting of Loki's dagger into its hindquarters is another layer of torment yet — but hey, there are more of the crunchy Asgardian now to eat in the Trickster's duplicate selves! It snaps out at these as well with foamy-mouthed lunges.
Confusion is a great tool, and though there's an expression of annoyance on the woman's features, Betty presses on with her own offense. The wolves circle and jump, snapping at the monster's legs in an attempt to bring the larger prey down. Its swings hit one and another, causing them to yelp out and roll across in the snow, leaving nothing but flurry of snow in their wake. Shattering into nothing but air, one wolf falls leaving but two behind. Those continue to work along with the distraction of Loki's clones and blades, their jaws out and clamping against legs, joints, and thin sleeves of skin, attempting to pierce through and crush bone. All while Betty spews what seems to be fluid Old Norse.
Sigyn whistles again, but the bilgesnipe is distracted. Too many other nuisances demanding its attention. She aims for where the eye will be if it turns its head towards her, whistles again then fires an arrow. Alas, it turns it's head too late, not being particularly bright even by Bilgesnipe standards, so it does NOT get an arrow through the eye, but one along the side of the head, which definitely should get it's attention!
The beauty of Loki's illusions? They affect all the senses - so when the beastie crunches of of the faux-Loki's it even tastes the hot rush of Jotun blood, the stench of ruptured body, the crunch of super dense bones. It can even feel the bits it swallows going down…though illusion cannot nourish of course.
Turned about and about as Loki and Sigyn harry, as Betty's wolves nip and snap and bite, the poor beast is likely not going to have a very good night. About to make a quip, Loki sidesteps and vanishes, along with his illusions. He found the portal it would seem!
On the other side he'd find himself in Asgard, and oh hey, he can SEE one of his old hunting lodges! Convenient.
A bit of effort to send his mind through the veil of worlds to Sigyn and Betty, hell, he'll even include Ambrose. «WELL…found the portal.» His mind voice is dry enough to make the Sahara seem lush! «See if you can herd the thing through, yeah?»
Wolf teeth break the Bilgesnipe's skin. Even its blood is off-putting, rancid to Midgardian noses, part of the beast's survival techniques; a mouthful of this stuff is pretty awful. It whirls and snaps, swats like a lion being hounded and separated from its tree. A hot streak of pain brings it to shake its head and turn towards Sigyn again. It jumps free of the wolves and at her again, eyes gleaming hellishly red.
Ambrose flinches despite himself to see the magic and might at work, openly shocked and in awe by it all. When Loki's voice echoes in his mind, he winces and shakes his head once. I believe that will be a task for those more inclined to gamble with their lives. I am expected home for dinner, he thinks back, his mental voice crystal-clear with long-practice between himself and his mate, Kent.
Two wolves gone, the other backs away at the woman's call, circling around to remain by her side. Head up, Betty looks for that spot, that rip in the worlds that linked one to another. She heard Loki, surely, but she didn't know how to actually answer. With another command, the woman moves back, starting to spring around the area in some hopes that the spike of ripped fibers in reality would tickle her budding senses.
The wolf does as its told, rushing back around the beast in an attempt not to hurt it, but herd it.
Sigyn teleports between the bilgesnipe and the portal, whistling at it and firing off an arrow at the creature's rear if it doesn't turn. If she can get it to charge her, she'll teleport backwards about seven feet, putting her with the rift between her and the bilgesnipe, which is hopefully stupid enough to run right into it.
Having located the portal, Loki makes it visible to the others, but not the bilgesnipe, limning it with an aurora borealis like glow that only they can see. Still, he can't quite as easily work magic through the portal, so he conjures a boar spear to hand and hopes the beast will be herded. «Oh, no worries Ambrose, you do as suits you, of course. Oh, and the lovely blonde in armour? That's my wife, Sigyn…we'll have to have you over for dinner sometime.» Yes, he introduces and banters - from another dimension - while he waits.
«Betty Brant, the wolves are an interesting summons…we'll have to review the spells involved when you have the time.»
Enough blood has been spilt that the Bilgesnipe, harried and peeved, is actually thinking about calling the whole process of attempting to eat the little two-leggers quits. It gives another roar and whips around when Sigyn whistles. A final scrape at the ground, a revenge-kick at the final wolf with a cloven hindfoot, and then it charges at Sigyn with antlers held low as if it might scrape her along the earth until she were nothing but a bloody smear.
It sweeps right through the rift unseen and back into Asgard proper in a bewildered, near-tumbling halt. Roaring and swinging its head around, it stays in place. Regardless, Midgard (and Central Park itself) is free of Bilgesnipes.
And Ambrose saucily golf-claps from where he stands as if he'd been audience at a magic show and this was the final disappearing act. A pleasure to have met your wife, my lord, and I…look forwards to attending dinner at your abode. His response echoes on all channels still, as it were, given the mental linking through all minds present.
"Well done, well done," he says aloud, further quipping, "Abhorrent creature into the corner pocket."
The last wolf fades into nothing, leaving the woman to stagger back. Her eyes fluttere and after all was said and done and the silence returns, Brant falls to her knees in the snow. Panting, she swallows, head lowered and hands up to rubs at her temples and brow. She heards Ambrose speak both within her mind and then against her ears. So, he wasn't freaked out, that was something at least?
"A-are you ok, sir?" She questions regardless. "Lady Sigyn? Are you safe?"
"I am fine," Sigyn assures Betty, then gestures, green and gold light flowing from her fingers in a totally unnecessary show. "There. That will prevent anyone or anything but Loki and myself from passing through that rift. After he's examined it for clues to it's orgin, he can close it properly. Ambrose, a pleasure to have met you." She then teleports for home, leaving Loki to clean up for a change! Ha!