Sonatorrek: Þrymskviða - 5
Sep. 12th, 2012 04:57 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsWARNING: MATURE SUBJECT MATTER
The others get free of Amora's magic, and the Enchantress learns the dangers of trusting Loki.
The impact let loose a rippling wave of ebon energy that spread outward just ahead of the tortured scream from the Canadian. The impact drove Kane flat in the dirt, his arms misshapen and twisted from the sheer force of the hammer. Amora screamed as the energy washed over her, protecting herself at the last minute with a shield as it went past. Even Thor looked shocked, taking several steps back and watching the strange effect.
Huddled behind her shield, she failed to notice the others suddenly sag, as if their strings had been cut.
Amanda, blood oozing from her nose as a result of the conflicting energies, lifted her head, a feral grin appearing as she focussed on Amora. Stumbling forward, her gait become more sure as she crossed the distance between herself and the Asgardian witch, she reached out and wrenched the woman around by her shoulder.
"Guess what, 'Mother'?" she spat, gripping Amora's jacket in both hands. "You're not in charge any more." And with that, she yanked Amora downwards, smashing her forehead against the bridge of the other woman's nose and breaking it with an audible - and satisfying - crunch.
The Brit dropped Amora with barely a second glance, knowing there were other things - far more important things - than her own personal desire to stomp Amora's face into the dirt. Casting her attention towards where Thor was lifting his hammer for another strike, she pointed her finger at him and rattled off a series of Old Norse words. The tattoo she'd had Marie-Ange put on Thor suddenly glowed blue-white, like an arc of lightning, before fading into the man's skin.
Thor pitched back, the hammer suddenly seeming to weigh a thousand pounds, and collapsed to the ground. Amanda didn’t know how long the ward would steal his energy for, but she hoped it would give them a chance. Amora reeled back, livid that her plan was being challenged, and now she had a half dozen mutants to contend with.
Luckily, she was not alone. The Sons of Hel still lingered, unbound but too confused to act, and they were more than malleable enough for her purposes. With a gesture she began to stir their loyalties, calling upon them to serve her in this time of need. Her face betrayed blank misapprehension as the spell seemed to fizzle and fail - the leather-clad men did not rally to her side, ready to protect her from these irksome insects. "Come to me! I command you!" she entreated, to no avail.
Through the ruined visor of the dead leader of the Sons of Hel, he began to speak. The voice wasn’t the hoarse hiss, but instead the warm, unctuous tones of Loki came from the dead man’s lips.
“Ah, Amora. I see that things are not entirely going to plan. Pity.”
"Loki!" she hissed, spinning round to face him, a trickle of dark blood marring her otherwise perfect features. "What have you done?"
“You see, dear Amora, as much as my brother’s golden shadow may vex me, I find the idea of him spending an eternity servicing your hourly demands to be demeaning, even for him. No, there are much better uses for my brother. You see, your sacrifice wasn’t very carefully thought through. Without my avatar, Thor is bound to the fate of the Blot. If he dies, the Valkyries will choose where to take him. If he went to Valhalla, your ritual would be complete. But I’m afraid that is not his certain destination.” The lips barely moved, but she could hear the smile in Loki’s voice. “If the soul of that mortal ends up in the domains of Hel instead, my dear brother will become the thrall of my daughter. A rather advantageous conclusion for my own aims, I must admit.”
"You have no honour!" the Enchantress spat, livid with betrayal. "All this time I have wasted here on Earth, putting my plans into place, grooming him into a god! And now you do not even have the stomach for a fair fight - you must seed this plane with your minions!"
“Yes, the Sons of Hel. I didn’t care for the mortals involved, so I decided to replace them with, well, let’s say friends of the family. Be good and run, Amora. Their orders are to obliterate everyone at the site save my brother. I would be upset to lose such a reliable ally.”
"I will never run from you - Thor is mine and I will have him no matter what treachery you enact!"
There wasn’t a lot of time. Amanda looked down at Garrison’s twisted arms, absorbing the full extent of the conversation between the Asgardians. If Garrison died with the Valkyries present, Thor would become a thrall, either of the Enchantress or of Loki. If he died before... it would be a normal, human death, a release from the magical geas that had been laid on him. The opportunity was there, in the glyph Marie-Ange had tattooed on him at her direction. A failsafe, in case things went wrong. All it would take would be a word and Garrison would die – and the Asgardians’ plots would die with him.
She should do it. All of her training, all of the lessons hard learned, the hard choices she’d had to make over the years, demanded she should. And yet...
“Oh fuck it,” she growled, and unleashed a blast of pure stored New York energy straight into Amora’s face.
The Enchantress staggered back, arms reeling as she fought to keep her balance. "Puny mortal! You dare strike me!" As soon as she found her footing she retaliated, lunging forward to fetch Amanda a backhanded blow across the cheek with all her might.
Amanda took the blow, the strength of it enough to take her head off, or so it felt. She spat blood into the dust and grinned grimly at the blonde woman. “Good try. But ‘m like a cockroach – you have to stomp harder than that to get rid of me.” She’d used most of her magical energy already, but what she had left she concentrated into her left fist, using it to bolster the punch she aimed at Amora’s already-bloodied nose.
But this time the other woman was ready for her, and the impact of her blow was enough to lift Amanda up off her feet and throw her several yards in the opposite direction.
The witch landed hard in the dirt and this time she didn’t get back up.
The others get free of Amora's magic, and the Enchantress learns the dangers of trusting Loki.
The impact let loose a rippling wave of ebon energy that spread outward just ahead of the tortured scream from the Canadian. The impact drove Kane flat in the dirt, his arms misshapen and twisted from the sheer force of the hammer. Amora screamed as the energy washed over her, protecting herself at the last minute with a shield as it went past. Even Thor looked shocked, taking several steps back and watching the strange effect.
Huddled behind her shield, she failed to notice the others suddenly sag, as if their strings had been cut.
Amanda, blood oozing from her nose as a result of the conflicting energies, lifted her head, a feral grin appearing as she focussed on Amora. Stumbling forward, her gait become more sure as she crossed the distance between herself and the Asgardian witch, she reached out and wrenched the woman around by her shoulder.
"Guess what, 'Mother'?" she spat, gripping Amora's jacket in both hands. "You're not in charge any more." And with that, she yanked Amora downwards, smashing her forehead against the bridge of the other woman's nose and breaking it with an audible - and satisfying - crunch.
The Brit dropped Amora with barely a second glance, knowing there were other things - far more important things - than her own personal desire to stomp Amora's face into the dirt. Casting her attention towards where Thor was lifting his hammer for another strike, she pointed her finger at him and rattled off a series of Old Norse words. The tattoo she'd had Marie-Ange put on Thor suddenly glowed blue-white, like an arc of lightning, before fading into the man's skin.
Thor pitched back, the hammer suddenly seeming to weigh a thousand pounds, and collapsed to the ground. Amanda didn’t know how long the ward would steal his energy for, but she hoped it would give them a chance. Amora reeled back, livid that her plan was being challenged, and now she had a half dozen mutants to contend with.
Luckily, she was not alone. The Sons of Hel still lingered, unbound but too confused to act, and they were more than malleable enough for her purposes. With a gesture she began to stir their loyalties, calling upon them to serve her in this time of need. Her face betrayed blank misapprehension as the spell seemed to fizzle and fail - the leather-clad men did not rally to her side, ready to protect her from these irksome insects. "Come to me! I command you!" she entreated, to no avail.
Through the ruined visor of the dead leader of the Sons of Hel, he began to speak. The voice wasn’t the hoarse hiss, but instead the warm, unctuous tones of Loki came from the dead man’s lips.
“Ah, Amora. I see that things are not entirely going to plan. Pity.”
"Loki!" she hissed, spinning round to face him, a trickle of dark blood marring her otherwise perfect features. "What have you done?"
“You see, dear Amora, as much as my brother’s golden shadow may vex me, I find the idea of him spending an eternity servicing your hourly demands to be demeaning, even for him. No, there are much better uses for my brother. You see, your sacrifice wasn’t very carefully thought through. Without my avatar, Thor is bound to the fate of the Blot. If he dies, the Valkyries will choose where to take him. If he went to Valhalla, your ritual would be complete. But I’m afraid that is not his certain destination.” The lips barely moved, but she could hear the smile in Loki’s voice. “If the soul of that mortal ends up in the domains of Hel instead, my dear brother will become the thrall of my daughter. A rather advantageous conclusion for my own aims, I must admit.”
"You have no honour!" the Enchantress spat, livid with betrayal. "All this time I have wasted here on Earth, putting my plans into place, grooming him into a god! And now you do not even have the stomach for a fair fight - you must seed this plane with your minions!"
“Yes, the Sons of Hel. I didn’t care for the mortals involved, so I decided to replace them with, well, let’s say friends of the family. Be good and run, Amora. Their orders are to obliterate everyone at the site save my brother. I would be upset to lose such a reliable ally.”
"I will never run from you - Thor is mine and I will have him no matter what treachery you enact!"
There wasn’t a lot of time. Amanda looked down at Garrison’s twisted arms, absorbing the full extent of the conversation between the Asgardians. If Garrison died with the Valkyries present, Thor would become a thrall, either of the Enchantress or of Loki. If he died before... it would be a normal, human death, a release from the magical geas that had been laid on him. The opportunity was there, in the glyph Marie-Ange had tattooed on him at her direction. A failsafe, in case things went wrong. All it would take would be a word and Garrison would die – and the Asgardians’ plots would die with him.
She should do it. All of her training, all of the lessons hard learned, the hard choices she’d had to make over the years, demanded she should. And yet...
“Oh fuck it,” she growled, and unleashed a blast of pure stored New York energy straight into Amora’s face.
The Enchantress staggered back, arms reeling as she fought to keep her balance. "Puny mortal! You dare strike me!" As soon as she found her footing she retaliated, lunging forward to fetch Amanda a backhanded blow across the cheek with all her might.
Amanda took the blow, the strength of it enough to take her head off, or so it felt. She spat blood into the dust and grinned grimly at the blonde woman. “Good try. But ‘m like a cockroach – you have to stomp harder than that to get rid of me.” She’d used most of her magical energy already, but what she had left she concentrated into her left fist, using it to bolster the punch she aimed at Amora’s already-bloodied nose.
But this time the other woman was ready for her, and the impact of her blow was enough to lift Amanda up off her feet and throw her several yards in the opposite direction.
The witch landed hard in the dirt and this time she didn’t get back up.
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