|
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() |
Loki has been following a trail left by himself through a series of codes in the books in his shop. This has wound him around and around until finally it became clear that the trail was leading to an elusive Norn Pool, in Norway. Everyone would know this part. Rogue, Strange, Kai would know that Loki believes the pool is the key to unlocking his potential power and memories, to be restored, insomuch as he can be. It wouldn't take a leap for others to figure out that he's probably guessing it could do the same for Thor, however, he does not indicate this to Thor, because he's being a manipulating little shit. Thor appears to just be on a holy quest for the Church of Thor. Bucky is also along, and seems much friendlier with Loki that he was previously, but he's very quiet, and hangs out behind Loki and Kai. Rogue and he have something in common, being honorary Asgardians. From what Loki would have told the group, the pools have a danger about them, though rather than physical, it seems to be more of a…when you look in the mirror you might not like what you see…sort of danger, and in legend they have driven people mad who stepped in their waters, or when people come out of them, they have a greater purpose and destiny. What people see seems to be unique and not often recorded, its very personal. Dr. Strange seems to be along to make sure that Loki and Thor screwing around with a norn pool doesn't result in messing up the world.
Loki asked Dr. Strange very nicely to gate them close to the location, which is where the tale begins. The party arrives through the spinning gold circle to an area of rock, near the shoreline of a desolate stretch. There are no other people anywhere around. The wind whisks vigorously, and the rocks are all covered in a blanket of short, green grass. What bushes survive here to blight the nearly perfect coating, struggle, being short and scraggly. They are at the top of a slanted cliff face, looking at the Atlantic ocean, and a treacherous climb down. And down does appear to be where they need to go, for there is a cave whose opening is a dark maw. What light pokes through a clouded day, disappears inside it. There is no garbage here, unlike the ruins of Rome, which only SEEM to be undiscovered…until you come across a few empty beer cans and a condom. This place…there is simply no reason to come here, unless you want to jump off a very pretty cliff and eject your brains into the sea as rocks mangle your body. It is more than possible that the cave has not had visitors in a long time.
*
Armored, hardened, and raring to go! Donald Blake, the Herald of Thor, emerges from the gate with a little stumbling of his steps as gravity readjusts around him. He's come prepared, with a worn old military rucksack over one shoulder full of food and camping gear. In his other hand, he grips his hammer, half ready to swing at anything that jumps out and yells 'Boo!'
"I see no pool, Loki," Donald grates, after a moment. "And the view is unpleasant. Why have you brought us to this place?"
*
Kai steps out of the Gate and stays close to Bucky. He's left the little dog at home, and it's for the best. The last thing anyone needs is for Kevin to go for a splash and end up a miniature ur-hound of death and doom. Kai is himself dressed a bit uncharacteristically in layers of dark gray, with a hooded cloak to cover his golden curls. "We'll find the pool," Kai tells Thor. Then he looks to Loki. There is a pool, right?
*
She's not called Scarlett Nornsdottir among certain quarters for nothing, the Lady Scarlett by others. Nor is she ignorant about this part of the world, though conversations about rock carvings and the enormous Storegga Slide in prehistory will be spared for another time. She rounds out the last of them to cross through the tempestuous portal, following after Bucky and shadowing him in the event the other Asgardian transplant should lose his balance or lunch. Elaborate plaits hold the secrets in ever twist and turn, threaded by beads and wooden clasps inscribed by every last rune. Boots barely touch the ground, scorning a touch of the rocky, barren ground. Winds can howl hard as they like and fail to displace her, a defiant presence.
"Hear him out," she cheerfully replies to Donald, "and we can drink to Thor's health with the mead I brought along." Truth to conviction, her pack more than likely contains a stoneware bottle. Or everything but the kitchen sink in a hammerspace configuration.
*
Norn Pools are indeed nothing farcical. With the potential to cause insanity and a fluctuating source of Mystical power on a questionably dangerous scale, depending on who dips their toes in, the good Doctor is along for the ride. Once the party has exited the Gate in question, a simple gesture closes the oculus to another half of the world entirely shut.
Strange squints against a gust of sea-salted wind that catches briefly in the crimson Cloak, undulating the silky garment before it settles against about him, unnaturally misbehaving as to the basic physics of air-flow by hanging flat.
"Oh, it's not so bad," he murmurs, mostly to himself and absolutely in a distracted manner. He awaits off to one side of the group, more 'official babysitter' than anything else, and his gaze is canted towards the earth itself.
It's an odd Mystical signature, one he's sensed at a few places throughout the world before. The veils are…thinner here. There's a fluctuation from below, a convergence point perhaps of multiple ley lines made manifest as physical liquid rather than metaphysical energy. To someone with little Mystical experience with such a state, they might have experienced sea-legs on land. Strange simply tilts his head a little more and narrows his eyes towards that downwards angle, observer that he is.
*
Loki does not look disheartened. "This is the place. If the pool were level with the ground, it would already have three hotels by it and a booming business in selling its waters. Midgardians are so quick to profit from sacred places." He tips his head. He is also dressed for adventure, maybe Kai dressed him, for its very similar garb. Like Strange, he seems also to be aware of the presence below. "It is here, brother. We only need to earn its waters by getting to it." He looks down the cliff to try to pick out the least deadly way down. "I would teleport, and check it out, but…that seems unwise. I might end up somewhere else. There's something in the air." Because that would just be totally boring.
*
Bucky is kinda well-suited to this weather and he adapts right away, quick enough to grunt quietly and say in a muted voice, "I think I see a way down over here." With a casual point. There's an optical illusion going on there…the path isn't very clear until you look from the right angle.
*
Donald frowns Loki, and starts creeping towards the edge of the cliff— but the metal-armed man spots the path first, and once it's pointed out, he looks as chastened as anyone else who's shown what should have been a patently obvious visual illusion.
"Aye, tis treacherous, but not impossible," Donald agrees. He looks around, counting noses. "I have rope with me. Safest we descend one at a time," he suggests. "I'll anchor the rope atop the rock here, so we have a means of leaving the caves once again. I do not relish a climb near the saltwater spraying these rocks," he says, warily, before digging in his backpack for a coil of heavy climbing rope.
*
"Sensible," Kai says with a smile for Thor. He creeps to the edge of the path Bucky points out and looks down. He's a nimble-footed creature, keeping his balance upon the rocks. "That won't be an easy one," he says. He keeps out of Donald's way, deftly picking his way among the rocks, looking down the path now that he can sort of make it out.
*
The man with the metal arm and the sorcerer are welcome to venture to the cliff's end, whilst Scarlett surveys their surroundings in a customary quiet. She reaches up to the hood and pulls it high over her elaborate foxfire plaits, face dipped in shade from eyes to chin. Descent for her matters less than some, which puts her squarely on rescue duty should anyone slip off the rope or lose their footing on loose rock. A quick dive in the bracing burst of sea-thick updrafts may spare someone their life, or condemn them both to splattering beautifully on the rocks below. Exciting times, after all!
*
Count this Sorcerer as heavily distracted when it came to the manner of finding a way down. Who can blame him? He's got half a mind on ascertaining precisely the magnitude of power hidden away beneath the cliffs — and he can simply fly down via the Cloak. Sure, it's ego on full display that he doesn't even think to chime in, but he does glance up eventually, irises fading of the light of his mantle.
"I have faith in you all to remain on the path." His smile is faint but there as he strides to the edge of the cliff and simply…steps off into space. A rush of a drop and disappearing Cloak and then there he is again, hovering in the air with graceful poise despite his build. "If not, I'm here along Lady Scarlett in the capacity to prevent your immediate demise. I enjoy a chance to snub Death." He'll be mindfully descending with the red-head alongside the group, always with an eye on handholds and chances of slipped steps, rope and all.
*
Well well, Thor may not be a total idiot! That's what is written all over Loki's face when he looks at the man suggesting they anchor a rope and leave it for a return trip. He nods once, to agree to that, and also drops down the tenting gear for he and Kai, planning on just leaving it up here. Not like anyone is going to steal it. "A good plan. We will meet you down there."
And with party in agreement, and being watched by Rogue and Strange, and held easily with Thor's rope, there is no reason that the group cannot make it to the cave's entrance, safely.
Standing there at the mouth of the cave, it is dark, and about 30 feet tall at the mouth, but it obviously can be seen to narrow down to about 15 feet tall pretty rapidly. The group can also see faint markings on the inside of the cave, old runes. The runes appear to be old Norse style names and they are heavily faded. There are also a few German names, written with modern letters, barely faded at all.
*
Donald sets a stake, ties a rope to it, and true to his word is the last one down the path.
Donald, in another strange bout of pragmatism, digs in his backpack to fumble for an aluminum flashlight, which he smacks twice against his palm before turning on. The reedy yellow light flickers around, illuminating the old carvings and the notches on the wall, along with the other graffiti.
"Who is Kilroy, and why do we celebrate him here?" Donald inquires, scowling at one doodle.
*
Kai makes his way down the path with the rope's help, but also because he's apparently part mountain goat. That natural grace ain't just for cutting it up at the clubs. When he gets to the bottom, he goes about reading the names, and Thor's question causes the elf to snicker. "Well, I guess I won't be doing that one," he says. He continues to scan the names, almost like he's expecting to find a few he recognizes.
*
A quick tally: intact shoes 10, awesome hair 5, metal star-arm 1, broken necks 0.
Satisfied on this measure, the bohemienne briefly freefalls through the tumbling stream of the wind with none of the good Doctor's pride or the elf's light-footed frivolity. For her own moment, she spins in a pirouette, flirting with the breeze, lured to the cavern entrance. A few moments of lollygagging actually serves well since nothing indicates she sees in the dark. With aid of Thor's electric torch, the runes and petroglyphs come to life in a staggered line of dimmed, primal shapes. They attract Scarlett, and she traces the runes short of touching them, committing to memory and recognizing which she can. "Lose… all… hope, ye who… enter here? That sounds familiar." A definite tease underlies her utter deadpan delivery.
Someone knows her Dante. Does anyone else? Slim fingers fan above another barely visible incision, spidery fare. "Records of those who came before. Graffiti."
*
And a lovely tally it is indeed.
Strange isn't bored, necessarily, though he might absolutely be accused of being distracted again as he descends. He's more sober than the red-head about addressing his arrival to the site, though her actions do bring a small smile to his face. Once down at proper level with the shadowed maw of the cave, it seems that the ocean air takes on a colder temperature still. …can the others hear the exhalation that seems to come from the cave itself?
He lands carefully, booted impact noiseless, and rubs briefly at one upper arm unconsciously at the chill that lingers around his person. It's as if the breath of the cave itself coats him now and there's…even the sense of a pull, a draw, a siren call to play lightly upon his inclination towards curiosity.
"How piratical of you, Miss Scarlett," he replies dryly to her comment. "As for Kilroy…he has terrible handwriting." A sniff and the man raises a scarred hand. The werelight swirls up from nowhere, starlight in a tightly-packed orb about the size of a softball, and he idly tosses it towards the head of the group. "Donald, this will spare the batteries on your flashlight in case there's trouble." This is sound reasoning, no?
Not that there will be trouble. There's never trouble.
*
Illuminated by the flashlight, the cave starts to show off. What SEEMS like natural cavern is dispelled by the keen observer, to have been altered in antiquity, with the occasional step carved into a slope, or a support pillar carved with curling serpent motifs. The further light from Strange illuminates even more than the directional light of the flashlight and the group is treated to a unique view, lighting up the various salt and crystaline deposits in the cave walls. It is achingly still, and unquestionable a 'special' place.
The group may descend safely for some yards, and the pathway is downward, easily falling below the waterline, where the walls have a dewy wetness, and they are not challenged with any danger until the cavern turns slightly upwards and then opens up into a broader cavern. They are on a ledge, about 10 feet from the base of the cavern. There are old remnants of a camp here…a rotting tent, some piles of burnt wood, some crates. Bits of old climbing gear that no one should trust to use now. It all appears to be about 20 years old. There are signs that the crates were used like steps to get in and out of the 10-foot drop. Across the cavern can be seen another exit that is smooth, but there is another hole in the wall that appears to have been blasted out, and it is open as well. There are skeletal remains in the area, /strewn/, rather than in tact.
*
Loki stops at the ledge there, casting his green eyes around the area with heavy suspicion. He not-so-subtly stands in a protective manner in front of Kai. "Thor? You did bring your hammer, right?"
*
It's old, and cold, and wet and quiet. There's a natural hush around caves— the echoing reminds many of libraries, and there's a certain stillness to the air that is almost reverential in nature.
Which is broken by Donald's sudden, braying laughter, heartfelt and from his belly, and echoing around the cavern. He stands facing a mural of Norse runes, shoulders shaking, and stooping to brace a palm against his knee.
"Ah! Hahahahhahahahahha!" he laughs, over and over.
Seeing the wide, surrpised eyes turned his way, Donald grins at the crowd, though his expression fades at the looks of reprimand. ""twas a funny joke, 'tis all," he explains, waving his light at the runes. "A man and his… donkey were… going down the road to…"
His grin falls, uneasily, and he clears his throat. Awkward.
"Er, Aye! My hammer, of course I have it," Donald says, hoisting the tool at Loki. "I'm… I'll bring it right over," he remarks, obliged to cut through the small assembly to reach the other fellow.
"Was a very… funny joke with a virgin and a … applecart," he mumbles, clearing his throat and with his chin high and eyes straight ahead, walks towards Loki.
*
Kai regards Donald for a time. Then he smiles, a broad and dimpled grin. "I like you," he says, "you're hilarious." He lightly touches Loki's shoulder under the pretense of steadying himself, never mind he's been extraordinarily agile thus far. "It's all right," he tells him quietly. "I'm being careful, and there are no bazookas here." He looks toward the skeletons. "…I think."
*
Scarlett's inherently warm soprano effectively turns on edge, sibilance a cutting force delivered at a whisper. "Nationalsozialistisches, Doctor." Her pale face lies in profile, stamped by an eldritch hue from the werelights to prove just how young she is. Shoulders square slightly and she draws herself tall, arms tight to her side. "I dislike this a great deal. The Wehrmacht occupied this area up til the liberation."
Booming laughter will all but drown out her far quieter voice. The charmed humour of the blond man would normally earn a sunny smile in turn, though not under the circumstances. Concern lies lead-heavy over her countenance, a mask smothering all beneath. "Did they use dynamite to carve out a different path? No rock eating worms in here, are there?" Woe, the question is actually fairly serious.
*
Stepping aside to allow Thor past brings Strange's line of vision better as to see into the natural enlargement of the cave beyond the sudden ledge. His silent smile at the sudden burst of laughter from the blonde man slowly fades as he glances over at Scarlett.
"Indeed, there's…something off about the place." That's vague enough to probably stir the worry pot a bit more. Blinking on the Sight gives him little more to work with anyways, even as he strides up to stand off to one side of the cluster of Asgardians and Alfheimian. "No rock-eating worms that I can See." he adds sotto-voce. The light show, however? Beautiful to those with Mystical vision. An aurora on display refracted a thousand times more, all just shy of eye-watering inducement. The veils here are thinner still and the Sorcerer thins his lips. Of course the Nazis would be interested in this area, especially if the original exploration crew contained a Warlock.
*
Loki considers Thor for a long moment. "Funny…nothing like old, perverted jokes. Can I…touch it?" He lifts his hand, curiously, might be his only opportunity to get gropey with the hammer before Thor goes swimming. He definitely hesitates on going into the basin of the room. Though, when Kai touches him he steps closer to it. "It looks like there are some crates, but…I am far too heavy for that. I can just…drop in. And…on the way out, I might need a lift." Or maybe he'll be able to fly…he's not sure! "We should be on our guard, here. Who are these dead, mortal men, Scarlett?"
Loki jumps down into the basin, finally, with a click of his feet on the floor, nearest to a tent that is still upright, but looks one touch away from just becoming mud.
Two paths await…one made thousands of years ago, the other made 20 years ago, likely with explosives. No one SEES any traps…
*
"Nazis," supplies the redhead while Strange oggles the matrix of the world.
*
"Eh?" Donald blinks in confusion, looking around that the oddities in the cave. "Aye, but 'tis an antique of my Lord, so… due reverence," he warns Loki. Translation: Respect the hammer!
Without a second thought, he flips it in his hand and offers the weapon's haft to Loki, then busies himself with examining the options for exiting the room.
"I am wary of either option," Donald says, finally. "'tis a hunter's trick to smear blood on the mouth of one cave, and lay traps for the animal on the other as they prowl unwary."
*
"I'm not expert," Kai says, "but when going about my day, whenever possible, I try not to take paths carved out by Nazis." He remains near Loki, watching with fascination as the hammer is offered over. "Can I touch it?" he asks, even as he's reaching out to do just that. He'd never presume to hold the thing, but just putting a fingertip to the handle of it is… maybe an irresistible instinct, given his lineage's history with royal relics.
*
The interjection aside, Scarlett shows no particular desire to either get her hand on her babysitting charge — Mjolnir or an assassin — any more than she wants to encounter a toothy worm chewing up rock. "I like his idea," she gestures to Kai. "Unless of course something else would imply those skeletons showed up as a result of emerging from the tunnel less likely to be the work of deranged zealots."
*
"I'm more inclined to travel the natural tunnel myself," Strange comments quietly, his voice still no louder than necessary than need be to be heard by the group. His own descent from the ledge leaves him airborne yet again simply because the suspicious Sorcerer remains suspicious. Past run-ins with Nazi occultists have left their mark on his confidence and while it's no less present, it's markedly more cautious. He'd rather not touch the ground in this room. The bones scattered about are a reminder that something did not want the original intruders here and like as not won't appreciate them either.
The Cloak riffles as he flits over to the smoother of the exits, hands raised and formed in defensive preparations for the spell on the tip of his tongue.
*
Loki reaches out to touch the handle. His lips part some. He knows this is significant. He knows this is IMPORTANT. He is so enraptured in curling his pale fingers around the hammer's handle, then holds it, just standing there looking like he's abotu to cry or freak out with some helping of glee.
Thor, checking out the passages, can see more of the floor. The bodies have had their flesh mostly gone by now, and the rough path, the one created by explosion, can be seen to be pretty cleared, from the inside. A look of his flashlight reveals no runes, but deep scratches in the ceiling and floor of that pathway.
Strange hears it first, like a /mole/ clawing through earth after worms, and then the others, the closer the sound gets.
The Norn Pool attracts all manner of things, creatures of the deep, of the old world, best left there. None who came in the ancient times sought out the sleeping wonder, for good reason, and so it remained, nestled up in this magical place, content. However, times have changed, and the world has changed, and let pass into Myth…true threats. Now its coming.
*
The hammer is… quiescient. Utterly lacking in presence. Or mass. Or significance. There's a faint, lingering magic in it, somewhere, but it's so prosaic as to be desperately uninteresting. The hammer doesn't fight Loki's touch or resist him— it merely crackles with a little latent electrical charge.
But to the sense of an Asgardian, the weapon Loki holds is not Mjolnir, no matter how it looks to the eye.
"I hear something," Donald says, a bit redundantly. "A trembling in my boots. Is some beast crawling towards us?" he inquires, backing reflexively to put his back to his allies.
*
Kai pokes at the hammer, and his brow knits. "It's a little underwhelming," he whispers to Loki, casting a glance Donald's way to make sure he hasn't been heard. Then again, with the acoustics in the cave, it may be inevitable. When Donald starts to take up a defensive stance, Kai's hands go to the crescent moon pendant he wears, tugging it free of his shirt, and he touches two fingertips to it, causing it to break apart into two and unfold into rather sharp-looking daggers. He does the same as Donald, turning his back to the others. With his hooded cloak and weaponry, he barely resembles the harmless beatnik he usually appears to be.
*
The low, unhappy murmur of movement yanks the redhead out of whatever reverie confounded her senses. Retreat to the others seems a smart move, particularly of all of them, she constitutes a noncombatant. Sorry, that stance of nonviolence does not allow much leverage for Scarlett to go punch whatever she damn well likes.
*
Like a watch-dog hearing a distant threat, Strange's head jerks about and aligns with the sudden reverberation of a large, breathing creature traveling towards them at a frightening speed. Rock is clearly displaced by what he can make of the sounds.
This isn't good.
A quick flit back towards the group places the Sorcerer easily near enough to defend as necessary. Equally-quick gestures bring forth the molten surujin, chained lightning incarnate in golden hues, and the whip waves back and forth along its length in his hand as he readies himself for whatever comes their way. It'll get a rude snap in the…nose? Face? General…frontal point of…body.
*
Some beast? SOME BEAST? The creature would balk, if it could understand their language. Once upon a time, it could understand humans, but no longer. It is fast, and its as if one moment there is only sound and emptiness in the tunnel and the next moment, there is a red-scaled dragon bursting out of it. The creature has a strange pallor, and its very clear that there is no way it could get out of the narrow entrance of the cavern, since it is clocking in at about 30 feet long, and has a considerably breadth. Its eyes are a pale yellow, and its wings are also its arms. Its spines on its back are scratched and some are even broken in places. Its mouth is full of teeth, with a head about the size of a Volkswagon Beetle. It immediately lunges for Thor, since he's closest.
Loki sees the creature leap out and he rushes forwards to try to push Thor out of the way of the creature and also give him back his weapon. "Brother!"
*
Donald takes the hammer, but stiffarms Loki instead of letting himself be pushed away.
"Run!" he commands the man— and with no more time to ready himself than that, Donald whips the hammer in a circle by the leather thong at the base. As the dragon's maw roars wide to engulf him, Donald dodges to the side, twists his hips powerfully, and with a blow that starts at his toes aims the blunt face of his short warhammer directly at the tip of the dragon's gaping lower jaw.
*
Kai ducks and pivots with uncanny ease under the dragon's maw and over to Loki, putting himself between the monster and the fallen Prince. "Stay behind me, my Lord!" he says. He sizes up the beast, and his bright blue eyes have a sharp, calculating air. Not unlike a cat who is about to do something it thinks is clever but is probably a very, very bad idea. Those spines, how climbable do they look? He gauges the distance between where he stands and the creature's neck.
*
Of all the things to see, the wyrm's writhing arrival awards a sigh from the redhead. Scarlett whisks off her cloak, as the natural tendency for any imperiled damsel presented by a dragon is to undress. No? Wrong legend? Bother. It slips down her shoulders and pools at her feet, revealing green leathers painted over her, gold-mesh inlaid sections exposing hints of fair skin. The design is undoubtedly Asgardian, but the way she prowls at a purposeful lioness' stride entirely her own. A twist of her wrist frees the tips of her gloves, easily overlooked. Feather-light steps do nothing to attract the attention of the gem-eyed beast, surely, compared to everyone else stamping around or smacking recalcitrant lizards on the nose. Her purpose is simple enough, really; find the broad side of a barn and give the scaly hide a caress. Even the most jagged, supernaturally reinforced rough edges are going to have a hell of a time cutting her skin.
More to the point, she's the Soul-Thief. If it lives and breathes, her curse comes screaming out of the void at the speed of impossibility to latch on to the delicious promise.
*
Oh seven hells, he was expecting some mutant mole critter or even a crystal elemental, but an honest dragon?! …if only Merlin were here. He'd be tap-dancing about like a fool and probably give the attacking wyrm cause to pause, simply for the lunacy of a pointy-hatted practitioner clicking heels before its face.
Strange doesn't need to smell this one to know what it is and where it comes from, might he ask — it definitely came from under a hill. Well…a cliff, really.
The bull-rush of the serpent begins even as the Sorcerer cranks back his arm, Indiana Jones in Supreme blues. The molten surujin flicks out with agile speed and wraps one-two-three-four times about the dragon's opened mouth. Between the Cloak and the sudden stop of backwards-thrown weight, the weapon prevents the dragon from evading Thor's hammer-swing — but at the very harrowing cost of being bodily yanked about should the creature get to thrashing its head.
*
Thirty feet of Legend isn't going to be felled by a hammer and a whip, not all in one shot anyway. The bludgening weapon seems to get its attention and the whip wrapped around his mouth is just ruining ALL the fun. Rogue is able to touch it. The scales feel rough. The dragon doesn't whip his head around, but he moves sideways, addled by the strike, and destroys one of the rotted tents. The intelligent, but still animalistic beast flashes golden eyes towards Strange, now. It FLAILS, leaping forwards, then around in a circle, dragging the Doctor around. What's that…Kai thing? Yeah, it lunges for that one like a giant, super-violent cat.
Loki is on the ground, pushed aside by Thor and kept safe by Kai, and he gets himself to his feet and backs up against the other tunnel. From there, he starts casting something, urgently. Without his full self, though, and the stressful situation, this may not even work.
A gunshot rings out as Bucky does his part, and finds that bullets are going to need to be aimed somewhere other than scales.
*
Donald looks… a little disappointed. And while he's strong and brave, he's not -fast-, and a whipping tail catches him full in the chest and sends him flying backwards. He crashes through some half-rotted crates and groaning, rolls to one knee.
"I see we've started," he grunts, massaging his sternum. He takes two steps forward and raises his hammer skywards, roaring at the top of his voice.
"THOR!" he booms, his voice echoing around the room. Lightning explodes from the walls, crackling against any metal surface nearby, and glitting mail and plate wraps around him as he calls for arms and armor.
With another bellowing, primal shout, Donald throws himself forward— not to attack, but to push Kai aside to bear the brunt of the attack as the dragon lunges for Kai.
*
Kai is doing just fine til the drag starts flailing, then he can't track it. If it weren't for Thor, he'd be dead. The dragon comes down, snapping the air where Kai was standing just a moment ago. Then the elf topples into Loki, his hood flung off and his hair shining like spun gold. He starts struggling to get to his feet. If nothing else, he's a determined little fellow. "Thor, look out!" he calls out in dismay as the dragon bears down on him instead.
*
Rogue suddenly starts talking in a different language, having to speak up rather loudly, at that. Though! Strange CAN catch his name being used, and she points at him! She seems to be talking to the dragon.
*
Strange isn't one to cackle madly at basically having roped a dragon. However, his startled exhale is audible when that first yank overwhelms the counter-tug of the Cloak about his shoulders. He's a crimson and blue blur at some points, fighting the strength of the car-sized head attached to the massively-muscled neck with all the mulish tenacity born and bred into him in the Nebraskan fields.
At one point, there's an arc out that ends with singing tension on the molten surujin and adrenaline slooooooows everything down. He sees the descending attack upon the Alfheimian, the desperate attempt by a now-chainmailed Thor to divert it, Loki mixed into the chaos — there's a gunshot from somewhere announcing Bucky's presence — and Lady Scarlett, somehow she must still be alive. Oh, there she is, he sees on the next wide whip-about, she's…talking…at it? Wait, was that his name?!
Shoot, and now's the time he forgets how to speak in Draconian tongue. Tsk, should have studied up. But then again, there is the bastardization of the All-Speak spell woven into his tunic. Touching upon it, he waits until his brain isn't flattening against the side of his skull before yelling very loudly,
"Cease! We mean no harm! In the name of the Sorcerer Supreme of Midgard, STOP!!!" To everyone else's ears, plain Midgardian English. To the dragon…? Perhaps its own tongue, forked or not.
*
Loki grabs hold of Kai and he /backs/ into the path towards the Norn pool…because that tunnel doesn't look big enough for the dragon and he just almost saw that elf get smooshed. "Kai! Back up, back up!" he exclaims. Spell ruined, he doesn't start a new one.
The dragon does stop, though he seems to be paying very close attention to THOR, instead of Strange, since Thor is getting armor zapped onto him and there are crackles of lightning. It does duck its head down, towards the left wing-claw, and then rips the whip off its face so it can reply. To everyone who cannot understand old Norse /verbally/, it mostly sounds like rocks grinding together. To those that can, it says, ~Make wide the hole, or I eat, or I die. There is no bargain but thissssss.~
*
"You're in no position to make demands, creature!" Donald booms, still protectively interdicting himself between Kai and the dragon, his hammer crackling with little tracieries of lightning. Still his posture is more defensive than aggressive, hammer held crossways in front of him. "Speak clearly your desire, foul beast," he barks. "What hole is it you speak of?"
*
Kai starts forward, once more into the fray— except then Loki's got hold of him and is backing into the path with him. He can't say no to Loki, and so the dragon is spared the wrath of his twin daggers. This time. "Okay," he says. "Okay, I'm right here." He keeps an eye on the dragon, though. "What a magnificent creature," he says. "It's too bad it's probably going to eat us all."
*
Oh thank the myriad gods above and below, it listened to him! That the creature is strong enough to scatter the molten surujin to the surrounding air means that Strange flies backwards like the far end of a snapped rubber band for all of a second before being righted by the sentient Cloak at his shoulders. Wincing, he rolls a shoulder before darting back down beside Thor. A small cloud of dirt rises up for his quick short-skid of a landing and he centers himself beside the hammer-wielding man, his hands upraised in mudras of defense.
"A hole? The tunnel? Outside?" The asides are to Thor. He's merely thinking aloud, his mouth running in a moment of adrenaline-fueled thought.
*
The dragon is still very capable of ruining their day. But its willing to talk to people who demonstrate powers that may aid him. "~ Out, out, that's what I want. Give me the way out. She said you would.~" This, between Strange and Thor.
*
Donald hesitates, thinking. "'tis a gross miscarriage to bind a speaking beast to any prison, no matter how gilt with crystal and precious gems," he concludes, shaking his head. "Mayhaps the beast languishes here for good and worthy reasons, but…. 'tis hardly a just punishment to banish a thinking creature to lonely solitude for ageless eaons, were I asked."
He turns to the dragon, seemingly neverminding the fact that he can converse with it easy enough. "So, noble beast," he demands, pointing his hammer at it. "If we free you from this pit, do I have your most sacred oath that you'll bring neither pain nor peril to the humans who dwell nearby?"
*
Kai, ever the soft touch. "It just wants to be free," he says to Loki in a low tone. "The poor thing." Sure, the poor thing very nearly killed him, but in the end, nothing bad happened, right? "It looks like we can undo a grave injustice while we're here." Even as he feels for the poor dragon, he still keeps himself between the thing and his prince.
*
The dragon speaks to Thor, in the same fashion as he is spoken to, "Who is it that sets me free, and I will remember. I like…(it says a strange word here, possibly draconic for some sort of animal…aka…cow) better than (draconic word for human) with their clothes and arrrrrmoooorrr…" He gnashes his teeth and then wriggles from shoulders to tail.
*
Loki can sense a deal when he hears one, and he looks to Kai, "I agree. We free it, But tell it who you are." Then, in fear that Kai will not do it, he says boldly, "Loki Odinson and Hjuki of Alfheim…and James Barnes." If the others do not say their names to the dragon, then Loki will totally do it for them.
*
"Karma will balance the scales," the Sorcerer whispers to himself as a reminder even as he realizes that his worries about releasing such a creature on the world will come into conflict with the opinions of the rest of the group. "It will behave. It will behave," he repeats again, sotte-voce, narrowing his eyes at the creature. The mudras of self-defense shift entirely instead towards parting the veils of reality here and boy, does it ever take much less effort than usual. The oculus in sparkling gold opens upon a rather desolate expanse of land, scattered with dark rock thrown up from the depths of the earth. The air is clean, clear, and there's no sign of human habitation in the immediate area. "Tierra del Fuego, near the Andes," Strange explains even as his graceful circular gestures weave the opening wider still to admit the Volkswagon-sized head and spread of wings.
*
"And I am Donald Blake of Midgard. Hail, traveller, and may you find fare winds," Donald tells the dragon, seriously. He lifts his hammer— in salute, this time— and bids the dragon farewell as Strange gates it from the room.
*
The dragon practically leaps through the hole! What becomes apparent to the group is that these Nazis came here…likely went to the pool in search of things to make them more powerful, and learned of the dragon sleeping below it. The dragon woke up and most likely ate the Nazis , or tore them up, and the war ended and no one came looking.