Assault on Jotunheim

Recorded: March 11, 2014
Characters: Beta Ray Bill, Dr. Strange, Laufey (NPC), Malekith, Odin
Location: Jotunheim - Frozen Wastes
Summary: Odin leads the Eirherjar to stop the assault on Jotunheim. Laufey is not happy with their assistance.

The legions of Svartalfheim do what they can to tip the scales in their favor. Under the leadership of Malekith, that calculating and patient nature has been solidified into ruthless doctrine and heartless edict. So it has come to pass that, in the shadow of a sprawling, permafrost mountain range that genocide has been visited upon the barbarous domain of the jotunn. Frost giants, in particular, have been targeted for this grim experiment.

So it has come to pass that another remote village of nearly two dozen have been disarmed and herded like cattle. The rime has been seared away from their crude villas and now, despite the raging landscape of the expansive tundra, the dwellings and all belongings within are ablaze.

The survivors kneel in a single row before Malekith who studies each face with vengeful zeal. A single regiment stands at the ready, their usually light leathers reinforced with warm furs; watching with eager, gleaming eyes as a detachment waits behind the prisoners ready to wet their shamshirs with jotunn blood. Standing apart is a reserve regiment of infantry dressed far less appropriately for the stinging cold. They are equipped for warmer climates and their marshall, an immense elf coated from head to toe in horned, wrathful armor stands at attention with a shimmering, violet geode clutched firmly in his fight.

"Men-at-arms and officer alike. Note how, despite the grand decimation, they have yet to plead? Lend me your attention for a moment as we consider the nature of suffering through their primitive, brutish minds!" Malekith hisses, raising his hands to silence the masses before they can even begin. Grendell stands at his side as silent insurance, looming over the fallen giants with mirrored hatred. Grafted onto his gauntlet, a similar purple crystal. A closer inspection to the armor from a more discerning sense would note that each soldier has a similar gem set into a ring while their lord and master has several dangling from his finewrought belt.

The outer tribes are easily assaulted. The further away from Laufey's fortress one resides, the further out of his favor they are. Under normal circumstances, he would think nothing of letting them fall to ruin under the assault of rival tribes.

This, however, is not an assault by a rival tribe.

One fortunate runner managed to make it to Laufey's court and advise of the invasion. Fueled by outrage, the king of the frost giants amassed his elite forces and started towards the outlands. In time, their march became a thunderous run that quakes the ground beneath their feet.

The invaders will find their casual life lesson greatly disturbed by the tremors that crack the ground beneath them. An army of giants ranging in height from 25-30 feet come roaring into the area with massive clubs ready to punish with impunity. Laufey stops leading the charge to spread his arms wide and release a gutteral roar that echoes above the cacauphony of the army's movement. With his roar, the ground beneath the Dark Elves and their prisoners sprout tall stalagmites of the sharpest ice. Anyone foolish enough to stay in that area will become impaled, whether they're a Dark Elf or lower caste Jotun.

Its almost as if right on cue… As the Clash of the Jotuns vs Elves happen, the bright searing light of the bifrost slams into the frosty clearing a short distance from the edge of the frey. Out of the light, the form of Odin atop Sleipnir can be seen, the All-Father in full battle armor, crowned helm and Gungnir in hand. At his sides only a second later, Stephen and Bill, one on either side, appear from the light. Sleipnir whinnies and arches up on its hind legs, kicking at the air. As soon as the front hooves slam into the ground Odin takes off into the fray with a vengeance.

Right behind them as soon as the trio begin moving, Asgard's reinforcements begin to pour in. Their elite warriors and part of the Eirherjar forces. Odin's sons along with a sizable regiment was of course left to protect Asgard in his absence.

Taking a brief moment to adjust his eyes and all other senses to Jotunheim, Stephen lifts off the ground, his hands glowing a soft purple sphere as he moves behind and above Odin. The wizards hands form his ever familiar shapes of attack and specific aim gestures, one hand poised a mid-length range and the right fully extended as a violet chain connects his hands before blasting out silently towards the Elves. The Sorcerer Supreme does not intended to kill, but he will help Odin, the bolt of pure mystic energy creating a decent crater, hurling large bits of ice and dirt into the air. The shot wasn't close enough to cause any damage to any one but does signal the arrival of the Odin-Force, should no one have noticed the bi-frost.

With the arrival of Asgard's army, a crack of thunder can be heard, along with a mighty bellow of challenge. The frost giants, in particular, think they know Thor… and perhaps the dark elves might know from the interrogation of Heimdall. But they were probably not expecting this… demonic, fearsome thing, wearing Thor's raiment as its own, wielding Mjolnir as the skies darken, storms gathering even in the constant winter of Jotunheim. Beta Ray Bill soars into the sky, summoning the weather and storm to him as if he were born to it.

The ground rumbles and warns of an approaching horde long in advance; for this, the dark elves are grateful. Regimental commanders pass their orders onto platoon leaders who, in turn, raise their fists obediently. When the giants thunder into line-of-sight the cue is given and both regiments open ranks and brace for action. The majority of the lithe army is able to step around or tumble out of the way; those that are unable are written off as too weak to stain their roster. Once the challenge is stated Malekith raises then lowers his arm to gather attention then fans his fingers out wide before his chest. The formations, in response, fan into shorter columns and significantly longer rows, peeling apart like a forgotten tome.

As soon as the bifrost scorches a swath of snow from the land the edge of Malekith's thin lips slithers into a venomous grin. Their are protocols for these sorts of things. The Lord of Svartalfheim steps forward and distorts, twisting into a minor wormhole and stepping out far in advance of his men and visible to the newly arrived monarchs.

Most of the faces are new but the forces remain. Their is that familiar, rampaging jotunn wave. The valiant, shining Einherjarr. Stephen and Bill each receive an unreadable and unenthusiastic scan. Each generation seems stranger than the last.

"Odin Borson. Thou art a most noble and imposing figure upon the throne of Asgard. Tis a station that suits you well. With my compliments." He offers with a puckish smile and formal bow. "…and you, Ymirspawn. I am humbled before the vast numbers of Ymir's spawn. We three lords stand here this day; terms shall be spoken?"

The horde of Jotun Elite would just as soon crush the Elven army beneath their march. They rush head-long into the dark elf formations and swing their massive clubs with the intent of crushing anything that would be caught in their path. Unlike the Jotuns left in the outlands, these barbarians put the slighest thought into their actions and aim not just to crush groups, but to lead any that spread out into the waiting grasp of their outer ranks. They are not here to talk, only to eliminate the problem.

Laufey catches sight of the Bifrost landing and is immediately perturbed. His jagged maw fixes into a scowl far more gruesome than normal. Malekith appearing between him and the All-Father is very fortunate—He can kill two birds with one stone. "Come to take advantage, have you," the Jotun king bellows towards Odin, stomping in his direction. "The word've an Asgardian means nothin' when it comes to war, does it? You're on my land, Odin Borson, and you are NOT welcome…" A single stomp raises a tower-sized pillar of ice in front of the towering king, and with a kick, he sends the top half of the ice rock hurling in Malekith and Odin's direction.

Closing in on the King and Lord, a gesture is given for Stephen and Bill to hang back. Asgardian forces do not yet clash, but their focus and aim of march is not towards the Jotuns. Odin lifts Gungnir, shattering the ice in mid-air with barely an effort. The BiFrost gleam fades once the last of their forces arrives.

"Laufey, my qualm is not with you this day and none of your Jotun blood shall be spilled by our hand. -That- is my word for we have a different enemy." He turns his glower on Malekith, though remains seated high upon Sleipnir for the moment. "Terms?" He nearly growls the word as if Malekith would be so arrogant to assume such a feat.

At Odin's signal Stephen halts mid-flight but remains sitting in the air, waiting for the chance to aid the All-Father, and to gain his much needed trust. The sorcerer remains silent, watching the happenings, his hands remain upright should anyone try to attack himself, or any of his chosen allies.

Beta Ray Bill hovers in the air, letting the storm gather as he descends, hovering about a dozen feet off the ground. He holds Mjolnir at the ready, not appearing to trust either Laufey or Malekith, not saying anything as the thunder cracks around him.

How uncivilized. An impish chuckle boils out of Malekith's chest as the Jotunn vanguard smash into Elven lines, pounding troops into the ground and slamming airborn to perish into the distant wastes. As if kicking over an anthill, the fae infantry rally into a surge, charging into the Jotunn and covering them like stabbing, eldritch fleas. Their strikes are precise. Their attack coordinated. Shamshirs sever tendons and muscle to rob the jotunn of their movement. Mad laughter crescendos from the Elf Lord as Malekith pulls a geode from his belt and holds it before his face, gnashing teeth aglow with violet pulses as he smiles a manic smile at Odin. "Algrim!" He howls, shattering the crystal in his fist. A irregular, wavering tear shreds through the fabric of the realm and bubbles from the ruined stone, twisting Malekith in then blinking from view with a violent flash.

On cue, the armored Kurse crushes his own crystal and turns to roar at the summer regiment as the portal warbles into life beside him. A ring flashes in answer at each of his soldier's flanks as they, too, pop into smaller rends through the fabric. What started as a swirling show of lights engulfs the entire wing as Algrim and the men under his command vanish from the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the autumnal regime screams across the storming tundra as they charge the Jotunn lines with the ferocity of the wildlands. Malekith flashes into the rear of the formation with a cadre of evokers who summon spectral fires to overwhelm the jotunn while Grendell, the massive, one-armed general, draws a mallet from his side and storms into the fray, sending Laufey's enormous shocktroops rocketing aside with each horrifying blow.
The sudden appearance of a real challenge only seems to fuel the Jotun Army's resolve. While the front line is injured and thrown, the soldiers that come after are unearthing whole slabs of frozen rock and pitching them in the direction of their new foes. These field-sized slabs of earth are thicker than the tallest Dark Elf and with each toss, they reshape the landscape into sliding shelves.

Laufey snorts derisively at Odin's words. "Any Jotun whose blood is spillt by an Asgardian ain't worth havin' that blood in their veins. You wreck our agreement by being here, Borson. Jotunheim can take care of its own." His gaze flicks back in the direction of the battle and his teeth gnash at the sight. Another gutteral growl from the giant king causes each stalagmite on the battlefield to explode into spears of ice and rock, intent on shredding anything within their blast radius. Then he turns and rushes to join his forces, fearless in the face of fire and everything else being thrown in his people's direction.

Enemy at front and enemy behind. Odin frowns. He gave him a choice. "So be it." The Asgardians still have their orders not to target the Frost Giants, but if they are attacked first, the Asgardians will retaliate. Odin hefts Gungnir in a heft war cry, signalling the gloriously armored Eirherjar to attack. And of course: Stephen and Bill.

Odin charges into the fray, choosing to fight from horseback for the moment. Gungnir is spun and stabbed at the elves, the occassional blast of energy to find tighter groupings of them when he can. He isn't overtly using his power more than pure skill at the moment, though the line of Asgardian forces clashes into the flank of the Dark Elves. The line closest to the Frost Giants are wary as they make to only attack their focused enemy for the moment. Trying.

Finally being allowed to unleash his knowledge upon a battlefield, Stephen lances out once more at the ground near a squad of Elves' feet. Trying to launch them into the air and distract them with the debris of battle. Stephen's eyes are wide with the shock and terror having never been in such a large conflict before his brain is trying to figure out how to cope with what he's subjected himself to.

Beta Ray Bill roars a challenge, and launches himself into the air. Lightning flares from Mjolnir, thunder cracking throughout the skies as he commands the Storm itself. Godly power crashes into the back ranks of the dark elves, seeking to scatter them before the winds that he commands.

Malekith continues to juggle primal energies between his hands, dissipating them harmlessly as the forces close on the outgunned remnant. When both Bill and Odin begin to slice at the lines he frantically backpedals then falls over as nerves take over.

Grendell, however, maintains his composure. As the Korbinite plows through a platoon the general rushes forward to meet him and thrusts his armless shoulder to ram into the ad hoc Thunder God and slow him into a stale mate. Defiant eyes smolder like embers as they stare into Bill's own then shift back to look at the cowering Lord he had been protecting. His hand reaches down to grab Malekith by the throat and squeezes firmly, lifting him up then slamming him back into the earth with such force the land quakes at the might. The crystal embedded into the gauntlet explodes into a shower of harmless shards that, as with Algrim, beginning a reaction in the rings of the remaining troops whether they walk or rot. Curiously, the geodes hanging at Malekith's waist have vanished; in their stead his ring flickers like a glowworm. Grendell hoists his antlered helm to gaze into Bill's eyes and convey a final, silent message of malice. The bloodied field erupts in a final nova of harmless light. The elves have vanished.

Laufey raises no more objections to the presence of the Asgardians but at the same time, he does not order his men to show them any leniency. The fray is entered and the battlefield is pure chaos. That is, until the main enemy has completely vanished.

The giants look perplexed and disgruntled, still running on the outrage of the invasion that seems over as quickly as it began. They look all too eager to focus that rage on the Eirherjar—That is, until Laufey holds up a hand to keep them brooding where they stand. The Jotun King snorts and glances across the icy field for signs of any further aggression. When it is obvious that the Dark Elves are gone, he looks at Odin with a snarl. "What's the meanin' of this, Borson. You bring your troubles to my land and my people?"

The Eirherjar will show little quarter if they are attacked first, but they will not throw the first blow. Regardless, as the Dark Elves retreat, Odin frowns. Gungnir is hefted to stay his men, but they do not retreat. Not yet. Still upon Sleipnir, Odin turns to face Laufey, the weight of the frown still present. "They came without my bidding, Laufey. I only recently learned of their awakening. They must be put down and quickly."

The Jotun King chuffs. "If they set foot on Jotunheim again, they will be. Dark Elves… Thought your old man meant to rid the Nine Worlds of their kind." He grins toothily. "Didn't do so well, did he?"

There is little joy in the obvious admittal, and the stubbornness of the Protector of the Nine Realms rises in a faint growl under his breath. "So it would seem." Odin watches Laufey for a moment, considering: "They will return, that much you can be sure. If not here, then another realm, but they will find your lands again."

The hateful sneer never leaves Laufey's face, though his eyes narrow as he considers Odin's words. "The Elite will stay on alert. The Storm Giants will be told. If anyone sets foot in our realm who I don't send for, they'll be dealt with." His glare sweeps the Eirherjar. "Anyone." He shoves the nearest Jotun Elite by his shoulder and each giant turns after that, beginning the march back to his palace. "Now clear out. Go finish what your old man couldn't, Borson. And don't show your face in my back yard again, or Asgardian blood /will/ be shed." Laufey turns to walk with his people, barking orders and shoving the stragglers.

"So be it." Odin lifts Gungnir and by summons the bifrost opens with its majestic column of light. The Eirherjar filter back through and transport back to Asgard. Odin remains behind on Sleipnir until the last one is through before he follows suit.

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