2013.10.10 - Batty Asgardian Troll Fruit

Directions written down on a tablet, with short, precise hand writing. Take this left here, and that right there - go straight at the intersection, stop at the lights, and so on. The figure that follows them really dislikes riding in public transportation. Or vehicles. Or anything but a fairly easier, quicker route altogether. Teleportation is -such- a nice thing. Yet, considering she's never been to this location before, one must do what one must do. And if that means taking a bus here, or there, and then realizing that you've taken the /wrong/ bus, and having to teleport back to the starting point, and then getting it wrong, and starting over again. It is no wonder she's a bit huffed when she finally reaches the location, and takes it to memory. If she has to get here again, she's never going to step foot on another bus again.

And the looks! Oh the looks she received. Okay, mind you, she gets her fair share of attention as just regular Eve, sure. Maybe she should look into getting her hair cut, or wearing a different mask? Or maybe. Just the albino skin and raven tresses do it? Eh. Who knows. With a shake of those same raven curls, the figure pauses before the fancy Curios shop, her milky white, zero pupils eyes take in the outside window, before her fingers collect about the handle to the door, and makes her way inside.

The faint *ding* of a bell - or the warning 'some sodding customer has come in' noise that may reverberate about the shop when the door is opened. With a faint, 'Hellooo?' Nightshade idly stands just inside the door, letting it close behind her without walking too much forward. "Pardon me, but I was told I might find a monster hunter, and a hunter of the dead within?"

Elsa Bloodstone is slouched over the desk at the back of the shop, poking through the remains of one of her beloved Browning Auto-5's scattered across its surface like someone might worry at a rotten tooth. A large steaming mug of Earl Grey is sitting nearby, in somewhat strange counterpoint to the condensation glittering on the metal tankard that sits on the other side of the desk. "Right, hang on a minute," she says to the shops only other occupant, without meeting her gaze. "So Trollvine is like a fruit, only it turns your unsuspecting five-a-day fan into a Troll, right? Midgard is Earth...what was the other place? Arseheim? I can't bloody keep up." An errant spring ejects itself from the guns carcass, causing Elsa to curse.

As the newcomers hand touches the doorhandle, a battered brass lamp on a shelf behind Elsa begins to glow with a diffuse light. Her gaze flicks to her drinking companion. "If you've brought any more undead viking warriors here for a laugh, I'm going to ban you from the sodding premises." Elsa throws down her screwdriver, grabbing a double barrelled shotgun from under the desk and aiming it at the door as it swings open. The polite enquiry causes the shotgun to dip slightly, confusion replacing irritation on Elsas face. "Elsa Bloodstone. Second generation monster hunter at your service. Who's asking? More importantly are you an incredibly inept supervillain?"

Perched on a stool at the other side of the desk, the tall, blonde-haired figure of Brunnhilde the Valkyrie watches Elsa work on her weapons with the kind of indulgent patience a professional marksman might watch someone sharpen a stick. When Elsa first began stripping her guns, Valkyrie even showed willing by unslinging Dragonfang's scabbard from her back and inspecting the blade for nonexistent imperfections. She couldn't keep that up for long, though, so the sword is now propped against the shelves behind her, and the tankard of mead on the table before her has taken her attention quite pleasantly.

Even so, she heaves what she imagines to be a subtle sigh and commences explaining to Elsa once more the finer aspects of Asgardian botany and cosmology. "As you say. Or close enough. The fruit of the Trollvine turns those who consume it into Trolls. Though it seems that the miscreant responsible had adulterated the potency of the fruit, resulting in those wretched creatures we fought." Valkyrie shakes her head, affronted by the villainy and professionally offended at having to fight the results.

She lets out a bark of laughter at Elsa's next suggestion, though. "Arseheim! Elsa Bloodstone, you are either a most hopeless mortal or you are making sport with me. As I have said, this realm that you know as Earth is properly Midgard, and there are eight more, Asgard, the home of the Aesir, Vanaheim..." Valkyrie breaks off her recital to deftly catch the spring as it makes a bid for freedom and pass it wordlessly back to Elsa.

As she does so, however, she stiffens a little. She's been around enough strangeness in her long life to have a feel for it when it turns up, even if she lacks a magic lamp to confirm her instincts. Her eyes widen at Elsa's accusation. "I was not responsible for that!" She protests, though she's grinning as she remembers the fight...

Seeing Elsa go for her shotgun, Valkyrie gives a shrug and stands, pushing the stool toward the wall with a foot to give herself fighting room, and collects Dragonfang as she does so. At the sight of the figure that confronts them, Valkyrie's eyes widen again, and she exchanges a look with Elsa, before turning her attention to the newcomer once more. "You have found those you seek, for I am the Chooser of the Slain. For what reason do you seek us?"

Both hands go flying upwards without a word as the figure in blue lets out a quick. "Yipe! Easy easy! I'd have to be the worst villain ever - though I do apologize for not knocking, now!" With her hands still raised upwards, the dress idly shimmering around her white skin, the figure of contrast idly lifts a brow, though it would be impossible to see behind the mask she wears. "I'm here on behalf of a mutual associate, some crazy archaeologist, that had terrible directions about recent streets, but perfect memory on ones that existed a hundred years ago."

With her hands still in the air, the 'I surrender' gesture, palms up, the woman lets out a slow breath. "I ah. It's a pleasure to meet you both, really. Names Nightshade. I have some information about the weird stuff going on - as it isn't just technology that's involved with the creation of the trolls you encountered a few days ago." The one known as 'Nightshade' now, tilts her head to one side, raven locks cascading over one shoulder, as her eyes shift from one person to the next. Yet, again, it might be difficult to track, given she has no pupils to watch, just the slight shifting of her head from one side to the other, the only indication that she's glancing about. She feels idly silly with her hands still in the air, so as her crimson mouth twists to one side, she inquires, "May I put my hands down now, please?" Of course, the lamp will be shimmering to all manner and back, as Nightshade's form shimmers into shadows themselves, though only the lamp would really tell, no use in staying corporal and getting shot, now is there?

"The front door *was* your fault though," Elsa snipes good naturedly as she casts the Asgardian a look, her gaze alighting on Dragonfang with a raised eyebrow before returning her gaze to her latest 'customer.' When mention is made of an errant archaeologist, Elsa's eyes roll skyward for a moment, before lowering the shotgun completely. "Hnf. Relax dear, it's not loaded." Blatant lies, of course. Elsa sets the shotgun on the desk amidst the corpse of the other firearm, watching as the brass lamp continues to glow pointedly.

She crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to regard the newcomer. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess...latent access to the shadow realm or some sort of demonic possession. Do I win anything? Most of your lot aren't usually on the side of the angels so forgive me if I don't give you the keys to the castle just yet. For all we know you ate our archaeologist friend and sucked her memories out of her living brain. But feel free to put your hands down." Elsa flicks an errant lock of hair out of her face. "You've got another theory, have you? We were just discussing batty Asgardian Troll fruit before you turned up."

Despite having Dragonfang raised to her shoulder in a ready stance, Valkyrie takes her left hand off the hilt to hold up an admonishing finger to Elsa, about to hotly dispute her sometime comrade in arms' accusation... before her face falls a bit, and she adopts a rather sheepish look. "I accept that my entry was a little... brash." She admits grudgingly, but there's the hint of a smirk on her features all the same.

Realising that she's no longer keeping an eye on their visitor, Valkyrie hastily looks back at her, only to see that she's got her hands up and seems determined to look unthreatening. The mention of an archaeologist draws a similar reaction from Valkyrie as it did from Elsa. "I know of who you speak, though I wish I could be surprised that she is still causing trouble whilst being leagues away." Locating her scabbard and sheathing Dragonfang, Valkyrie slides the sword alongside the shotgun, unable to resist pointing out, "Mine is always loaded." She might /actually/ be teasing Elsa. Smugly.

Rescuing her tankard, Valkyrie takes a healthy swig of her mead while Elsa questions Nightshade. Her technique is amusing, but Valkyrie's learning that she's sharp as a knife under the pose. "You think that is likely?" Valkyrie has to ask, with some surprise in her tone, when the suggestion of eating archaeologists is mentioned. "She doesn't look big enough." Even so, Valkyrie's now looking appraisingly at Nightshade, as if really considering her a potential threat for the first time.

And then Elsa lets her put her hands down. Mortals. Shaking her head, and making an almost pained noise when 'batty Asgardian Troll fruit' comes up, Valkyrie steels herself to go into battle on this subject again. "Before we go further, we are now all familiar with the fruit of the Trollvine, yes? I need not explain once more?"

"Archeologists taste terrible. They're full of sand, dust, ash, and things best left unmentioned." Offers Eve as her hands lower to her side, "Though you are correct about the shadows. Born of the Nightshade dimension. Does it help that I actually have some government credentials, or would that make matters worse, as really I'm sure they devour more than I ever would." Her crimson lips continue to twist into a wry grin, though Eve doesn't turn corporal yet, remaining as she is, in the darkness - nothing more than a living shadow. It makes things a bit easier in case the sword carrying blonde Asgardian decides she's a threat.

Her white eyes shift their gaze onto Valkyrie, as Eve listens to the conversation, and the bantering the two have between each other. "I do know a little of what you speak." Eve states, not really making fun of Valkyrie's speech pattern, but not able to help herself, either. The humor of it all causes Eve to bite her lower lip down, not allowing herself to snicker aloud. The effect is a coughed snort, before Eve clears her throat.

"Look gals, I hate to be a pain but I do have some information concerning this little incident, and I am a bit fearful that things will not end with the destruction of the first batch, if you get my drift." Nightshade's tone of voice is quiet, filled with mirth - as she offers her explanation. "The crazy doc sent an associate of mine some of the liquid she recovered from a syringe. It's got the essence of trollvine, a fruit that causes one to become a troll. I mean, honest go God /troll/. Like from.." Eve's gaze flickers to Val, then pauses. "Well, you'd know about that, right. Anyway. It's not perfected, it's as though the one that created it is trying to mass produce the fruit, using not just cloning techniques, but magic as well, creating a very very bad blend. Those were the rejects."

"Hardy bloody har," Elsa offers to the Asgardian in the ongoing verbal sparring about weaponry choices. As Valkyrie expresses a little puzzlement at the mention of Nightshade eating someone, Elsa turns to the warrior and holds her hands out as though grasping something imaginary. "Well, I mean, not literally eaten in this case, it's more of a..." her hands ball into fists as though she is twisting an imaginary rope in mid air. "...consuming vital essences sort of thing. Though the end result is broadly similar and profoundly horrid."

Elsa turns from Valkyrie and regards the strange woman standing in the middle of her shop, her eyes narrowing as she jokes about consuming archaeologists. "You're not helping your case at all, dear." The monster hunter holds up a placating hand towards Valkyrie, just in case, eyes still on Nightshade. "Oh. A Government spook. How positively charming. Well, I won't hold it against you. Politics rarely has any bearing in my line of work. Well, human politics anyway." Elsa lets Nightshades little fit of hilarity pass without comment, sure Valkyrie is more than capable of fighting her own corner. A wry grin crosses Elsa's face as Nightshade realises they've been doing their own investigations, which fades slightly as the shadow woman finishes speaking. "Well. Let's file that information under 'worst case bloody scenario', shall we. I don't suppose your source has an idea of where to start looking?"

Valkryie's smugness climbs a notch at Elsa's sardonic mock-laughter, but hopefully tops out a fair way short of 'insufferable'. Her eyes linger on the weaponry decorating the surface of the desk for a moment, as she remembers the state of Elsa's rather inferior sword after the battle with the trolls. Perhaps there is something she can do about that, by way of recompense for the adventurer's door. It's a thought for another time, though.

Folding her arms, Valkyrie frowns as she follows Elsa's hand gestures, before suddenly nodding vigorously. "I see! You believe she may be a draugr, or some such!" Valkyrie glances over at Nightshade dubiously, then shakes her head. "I think not. Else she is the most eloquent draugr I have met by some margin." Valkyrie pauses. "Not to mention the most alive." She snorts at the strange woman's jest, and then huffs a little as she sees Elsa make calming motions toward her. She's not without humour! ...most of the time, at least. She nods in agreement with Elsa's words. "Nor mine. I am a vassal of the All-Father, and none but he commands my allegiance." Not strictly true, but close enough.

Valkryrie's not offended by any implied mockery of the way she speaks, for she's near-overjoyed to learn that she's not going to have to explain the properties of the Trollvine yet again. Although it does seem that she's going to have to sit through one herself, this time. Mercifully Nightshade cuts herself off before she really gets going. "Aye." She says, hastily confirming her understanding lest the shadowy one start up again.

The meat of what Nightshade has to say is disquieting, and a grim cast comes over Valkyrie's features as she listens. "Hold, Elsa Bloodstone." She says in a sober tone. "This bears consideration. Combining the Trollvine with your Midgardian science as well as magic would make for an unwholesome brew indeed." She nods in agreement with her own words, before addressing Nightshade. "I thank you for this, ill news though it is. Elsa Bloodstone has cut to the heart of the matter, though: We must know who has done this, that we might punish them most severely." She looks appraisingly at Nightshade. "You would join us in this?"

Well whatya know, blondie can take a joke. Eve's grin widens a bit, though she does continue to remain silent, listening to Valkyrie, and Elsa speak their minds. "I do - though it is not an easy place to get to. Which is why I was sent. I am not what you'd call a draugr, My Lady." Eve states, her gaze on Valkyrie, then back to Elsa. "I don't draw the soul out of others, suck their insides out, or consume their body with rapt devouring atrocities. Rather, I deal with umbrakinesis - or dark force in more base terms. Teleportation being a very important factor of my abilities." The rest she leaves open to imagination and demonstration - well, at another time of course.

"The individual in question - is a Doctor Agvald Amadeus. Who lives in this very odd, little, island off the coast of Florida. Quite the Isle of Doctor Moreau. I can get us there, to the island itself, but getting to the lab - well, that's going to take some work." Eve's mouth quirks to one side, and then the other. "So, I'll give you both a day to prepare, bring lots of weapons, maybe a few tranquilizers...or quite a few.. and whatever else you can think of, and I shall be back early tomorrow morning."

There is a pause, before Eve offers her hand. "If you both will have me, that is. I'm happy to help. If you'd rather do it on your own, of course, feel free - the location isn't difficult to find." Especially for an Asgardian, or a monster hunter like Bloodstone - but Eve doesn't go there. "So sorry to dump this on you all, but I figure the sooner we take this guy out, the better." With a single salute, anything that might scream ARGH DARK FORCE MAGIC will go off, as a dark, glistening black portal opens up to one side of Eve, though she does - at least - wait to be given the 'yup we'll all go' or the 'we'll just go'.

The monster hunter regards the Asgardian with a slightly incredulous look. "No bloody kidding monstrous sodding brew," she grouses. Elsa nods as Valkyries opinion on their course of action matches up with hers. With one notable exception. "Hang on a minute, no one said anything about bringing little miss whispy along!" She clasps a hand to her forehead in a gesture of exasperation. Elsa lets out a breath, lowering her hand to her side as Nightshade explains herself, smirking suddenly. "Oh, jolly good. Just as well really, because otherwise I'd be duty bound to blow you into chunky bits. And I just redecorated."

She remains silent as the shadow weaver continues to talk about getting to their objective. "Tranquillizers. You are an optimist, aren't you darling? I'm sure I can find something suitable in the back." Elsa shrugs at Nightshades apology. "It's my job," she says simply, forcing a smile on to her face. She reaches forward and gives the shadow manipulators hand a quick shake. "I guess we need all the help we can get," she offers. As the portal opens, the brass lamp begins to glow almost white hot, the protective runes adorning the secure door behind the desk also begin to glow. Elsa all but shoo's the shadow user into her poral. "Aigh! Not in the bloody shop! Hop it!"

Valkyrie openly grins back at the look Elsa shoots her, apparently freed from her earlier feeling of foreboding by the prospect of taking some decisive action. "I did not wish to... over-emphasize the seriousness of the situation." Being accused of understatement. That's unusual. Still, confident that Elsa was with her on this, Valkyrie's taken aback by her compatriot's sudden objections, but breezes - or perhaps bulldozes - her way through them. "She seems to know much that we do not, Elsa, she is willing and she seems capable enough." Then again, Valkyrie sometimes seems to have a blind spot on that score. "Besides, this way we keep her dark magics before us, where we can see them." That afterthought is so brutally unsubtle that even Brunnhilde herself seems to realise it, and adds, "...even though she is NOT a draugr. As she has just said. And which is a good thing." Valkyrie tries a winning smile, first on Nightshade, and then on Elsa. And then keeps quiet while Elsa talks.

Ignoring any residual awkwardness, Valkyrie listens attentively, giving a slow, deliberate nod when the name of the villain is given. His card is now well and truly marked, it seems. The supposed difficulty of getting to the lab is considered for all of about a second and then dismissed. "I am sure we are equal to the task." She says, making some effort to be diplomatic. She seems quite eager to get going, and consequently looks rather crestfallen when a day's delay is suggested. She /almost/ offers to scout ahead, but subsides before giving voice to the idea.

Valkyrie takes Nightshade's offered hand in a rather firm warriors' grip when Elsa is done with it. "As Elsa Bloodstone has said, this is what we do." She speaks firmly to dispel the need for an apology, then smiles sympathetically at Nightshade as Elsa tries to get rid of her. "It might be wise to depart. She can be excitable." Releasing her grip, Valkyrie steps back, looks over at Elsa, and shrugs. "She will be an interesting ally." It might, possibly, be said just a touch defensively...