2020-04-20 - It's Not The Size of The Dog In The Fight

Summary:

The search for the Crown gets serious.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Mon Apr 20 04:21:21 2020
Location: Adirondack National Park

Related Logs

None

Theme Song

None

zatanna-zatarafenris

With all that's been going with the Asgardians, Fenris might be forgiven if he hadn't noticed the presence of Hounds of the Hunter in New York. Tonight though, he can't miss upswell in power somewhere out in the Adirondack National Park.

When he arrives, a red headed woman dressed in a leather battle skirt and jerkin is fighting off three Hounds of the Hunter.

Hounds, he knows, that were one time directed by the Malekith the Dark Elf. Are they still?


Fenris arrives as a wolf. A wolf the size of a Greyhound bus, yes, but a wolf all the same. He snarls, loudly. Loudly enough to get their attention. He plants himself behind the redheaded woman and glares down at the four of them with crimson eyes. "Get. Off. My. Lawn."

The implied threat 'or I will eat you' is quite clear. He's speaking to the hounds whom are not welcome. He is uncertain whether the celt is welcome yet. Of course they might not listen to him and in that case… well. He may well have to start biting people.


"Yer lawn, Fenris-wolf?" The redhead drawls in a delightful celtic lilt. As the three hounds leap one at her and two at the big wolf who has just appeared, a bolt of fiery energy shoots out from the womans hand, setting the fur of the hound on her, on fire. A fiery blade appears in her hand not seconds after that.

Red hair, leather fighting garb, celtic accent …. There's potentially a couple of goddesses that could be. "I s'pose ye are to tell me that ye claim the whole of this world as yer lawn…"

The other two hounds, seperate as they go for Fenris. Seeking to split the God-Wolfs attention. One dart in from the left, the other from the right - seeking to bring him low.


"I peed on it, therefore it is mine. Do not pursue this particular theory of ownership too far." Fenris grunts as he turns to swat one of the hounds with his big paw. THe other gets a bite in on his right ankle which really actually hurts, but only lasts long enough for Fenris to snap his jaws shut on the offending being.

Then he steps forward and stomps down on one of the ones near the redhead.

"Who upset Malekith? And why does he think hunting in my preserve is a good idea?"


Brigid twirls that blade, leaving a fiery slash across the hounds haunch just as Fenris steps on its head.

"Well it wouldna be I that has done tha'. I was searchin' for somethin' when they came on me…" The Hounds litter the ground about the Wolf and the Goddess. The Goddess who looks at the Asgardian with suspicion. "Is that wha' that fetid smell is? Ye peed on the middle realm?"


"No, that's the Hudson. I do not own that." Some things are beneath even Fenris' dignity. Looking around, the Old Wolf searches for any further adversaries and finds none. He snorts, turns and kicks some dirt on the fallen hounds. There really aren't many ways he has of expressing disdain more… primal than that. Well there's one. But he's not using it.

"Now…" Fenris sniffs. "Brigid. What are you doing here?" Nothing like being direct, is there?


There certainly doesn't seem to be anymore adversaries here. It's a little strange really. Brigid snorts at the wolf as he backs up and kicks dirt over the hounds. "Let me guess, Fenris, ye wouldna urinate on them if they were on fire …"

The goddess looks around and then examines a gash on her arm. She'd taken several before Fenris had arrived. "I could ask the same of ye, Asgardian. But I can see ye think ye own this area. I was seekin' somethin' that belongs to the Shining Ones."

She's reticent, perhaps understandably, to share too much information. But Fenris may recall that Zatanna Zatara had been directed to speak to someone in Otherworld. Someone with a connection to the Shining Ones.


"I live here." Fenris says simply. He rolls his shoulder and begins to shrink down and take a more human and less obvious form. "As I said this area is my hunting grounds. I don't take kindly to people poaching off of it." And the Hounds just found out how significant 'not kindly' is.

"Something… that is here in New York?" Fenris sighs. "How many artifacts got into this blasted city?"


Brigid watches as Fenris shrinks down and smirks just a little. "Then ye mus' be kept very busy if that's the case. I don' know that many care ye have a stake on it." beat "I'm not sure ye can case what these wee beasties were doin' as poaching. I'm pretty certain, their master is lookin' for the same thing as I."

"How many? What are ye talkin' about? I only know of one that may be here in the city. It was a gift of the Shining Ones to the folk in Avalon, designed long ago, to aid in driving the Dark Elf incursion back."

What's it doing in New York is a very good question.

As they're talking, a figure appears - riding what seems to be a totally ebony version of the Bifrost. In his hand is a sword that very closely resembles Hofund, the sword wielded by the keeper of the Bifrost. This sword though, is its dark equivalent - the Bitterblade. "Oh now …" Bitterhand sighs when he sees the hounds on the ground. "… this is not going to go well with the others. They were only trying to find the Crown."


"They care when I catch them." Fenris mutters as he turns to look at Bitterhand. He can address Brigid's questions later, when this one is dealt with. It's a face that he recognizes and a name that he knows. Malekith's people have had too long an association in Asgard for Fenris to be ignorant of either him or the Black Bifrost. Though that doesn't mean that Fenris knows them well. Just that he recognizes him.

"You know what they say about it not being about the size of the dog in the fight, Bitterhand? Well… it's not true. It's totally about the size of the dog in the fight. And I don't take kindly to being bitten, or having mangy hounds running around where I hunt."

That there is a Tuatha here is, you know, politely glossed over by Fenris. She hadn't bitten him, so she gets a pass. For now.


Given the strained relations between the Celtic and Asgardian pantheons in the past, Brigid just chuckles as Fenris glosses over her presence so blithely.

"I don' why ye are askin' them to collect the Crown, Bitterhand. It is Avalon's by right. And then ours and trust me, it's entirely about the size of the dog in the fight." She glances at Fenris and sighs. "They're looking for the Crown of the Command that the Tuatha De Danaan crafted eons ago and gave to those who reside in Otherworld. It went … missing some time ago and now it seems, our ebony fellows here are trying to find it."

"We've found it, you redheaded harridan. The Hounds were supposed to be a warning for the one who is keeping it. And they would have delivered it, if not for your interruption."

Bitterhand looks to Fenris "I didn't think you got involved in the concerns of Midgardians, Dog. What do you care if a few go missing?"


"I do when you come stomping across my home." Fenris advances a few paces, still in human guise. "And call me dog again, Bitterhand. See what happens. I'm already not pleased with you and whomever is pulling your strings. Malekith I imagine. Do you want a bigger demonstration of how not pleased I am?"

The Old Wolf glances back at Brigid. "Doesn't Malekith have enough crowns already? What does he want with that particular one? For that matter, what do you want with it?"


"No one pulls my strings … Do—-" Bitterhand looks at Fenris' face and thinks twice about calling him that. He's a bit slow, really. "I chose to work with who I work." Of course he does.

"Well, this Crown wasn't made for Malekith, ya'know, Fenris. It was made to help the Avalonians beat him. So I guess he thinks if he has it, Avalon might be his for the taking this time."

This time? That's interesting.

"Many years ago, we tracked where the Crown had ended up and were happy to leave it with its current caretaker. Things change though and it's needed back in Avalon."

"I understand the Lie Smith is aware of all this …"

Bitterhand growls, watching the pair "You mean, you don't think the Zatara whelp is strong enough to protect it."


"The Lie-Smith is aware of a great many things, some of which he is not aware that he is aware of." Don't think about that too hard it'll just give you a headache. That might have been Fenris' intent.

"I think you'd better be more concerned about how offended the Sun Eater is going to be if you continue stomping around where he lives. Because right now I'm only slightly miffed. Heaven help you if I ever get to perturbed…"

A perturbed Fenris hasn't been seen in a long time. There may or may not be legendary bad times associated with the last time that happened.

"As for you… if you know where it is, and it isn't here, then what on earth are you doing here Brigid?"


"Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. My Ma' used to threaten me with you, you know." Bitterhand rolls his eyes and steps back from the pair "If you don't all those tubers, Fenris will eat the sun and then we'll all be dead …" It's a high nasally voice the dark elf uses. "Something ended up eating Ma instead." He shrugs.

With a swipe of his sword, the black bifrost opens again and he disappears, along with the bodies of the hounds.

Brigid sighs. "I was coming to see the person who has the keeping of the Crown when I noted the Hounds on their way too. I was just … taking care of them, before I went to see her and retrieve what is ours."


"Just watch me do that." Fenris shakes his head. "I hate it when people don't finish their tubers." The Old Wolf turns his back on Bitterhand and looks at Brigid. "I see. Well. From what Bitterhand said I know who that person is too and clearly she is in for company that she is not aware she is about to have. Are you going to see her now? Or should I do that for you?"

Or would she prefer to go alone? That's probably not an option so he doesn't give it to her.


"Good riddance to bad garbage…" Brigid scoffs as Bitterhand disappears. "At least those carcasses won't be stinking up yer territory Fenris." The redheaded goddess looks at the Asgardian and purses her lips.

"I … why would ye do that for me? Can I trust ye, Fenris, to retrieve what is ours and return it?" Brigid is serious. "I understand her show is something not to be missed. Then again, it was Aengus who said that and he might said something about legs …"

That's where Brigid had been heading, to the show. There's still time.

"Are you on speaking terms with her or will she refuse to speak with ye?"


"I am speaking terms with her more or less. And her show is good if one has an eye either for magic or feminine charms. Or both. I like both myself. But… you may trust me not to side with Malekith. Whether that is the same thing as siding with you depends on whether or not you have told me the whole truth as to the purpose of your errand."

Which means she may or may not want to go with him. He will probably be paying the young mage a visit one way or another though.


"More or less. You're welcome to accompany me, if ye wish, Fenris. I'm no' sure we can trust with the Crown but if Malekith gets it, it will be trouble all round."

"Let us be off then, to see the young Zatara. I'll be interested to see if she's worthy of the mantle that's bestowed on her. Mistress of Magic. I take it ye know the way?"

Brigid *may* want to change before they get there.


"Lets go then." Fenris says as he turns to gesture. No trips through the ways for this, they can walk a little. It will give him a chance to see if they're going to be followed. And yes she may want to change. But that will be on the magical redhead. Fenris doesn't have that kind of magic.

He doesn't really have any except for the kind that goes chomp.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License