+ For Glory! For Death! +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: EVERYONE & Unwanted Guests
Where: The Grounds & The Palace
When: August 27th to 29th
Rating: PG-13 to R for fighting, violence, and death
Summary: Attackers from other realms threaten the Asgardian palace and your very lives! This is where you fight or flee, the place for all your combat mingle needs.
The Story:

+ Day 3 : Rock Trolls and Ogres +



Rock Trolls and Ogres are strong, tough and surprisingly fast, with great muscular bulk. Their sight is keen, and they hunger for human flesh. Fortunately they are lacking in tactical skill, and few to none will manage to break through Asgard's protective barrier to enter the palace. ( x ) ( x )

+ Day 4 : Frost Giants +



The Forst Giants will scare off yesterday's attackers almost entirely, bringing a greater threat to the palace. They are faster and stronger still, and skilled in cryokinesis. One touch by their hand might freeze a warrior whole, if they don't stop the spread of cold on time. Several of their numbers will manage to break through Asgard's protective barrier to enter the palace. ( x )

+ Day 5 : Dark Elves +



The Dark Elves are the last and greatest threat to Asgard. They rely on stealth and deadly energy weapons, their strength and craftiness yet unparalleled. They are weak to iron, and any warrior would be lucky to discover this weakness on time. They infiltrate the palace from the caves, and nearly all of their numbers will attack from the inside. ( x )

Comments

klaus mikaelson | ota

[poppycock]

ｆｉｇｈｔｉｎｇ.
ｄａｙｓ ｔｈｒｅｅ & ｆｏｕｒ.

[ klaus is only a little intrigued by the forces attempting to breach and thwart asgard's defenses the first day of attacks. mostly he's found wonderland's latest sojourn into miss darcy lewis' (and captain america's, and fitz's, apparently) world a bit dramatic and fascinating as far as events go.

he might even like the twist on all the beloved stories of gods from his mortal youth and the chance to visit a version of those ancient places; he certainly likes the mead.

he likes less the obvious affect the asgardian armor has on those around him and unfortunately on him, but he can fight, being the impervious creature he is, and so he does. with zeal and even a bit of fun, when not simply annoyed to be batted around like a fly now and again.

he's a blur, crossing distances in the blink of an eye, dealing blows with unexpected strength and taking them in stride, being also much more durable than he looks. what's more, he seems to heal instantly. and while he's not necessarily quick to play with others, he will step in when death's knocking on someone's door.

probably with a smug rejoinder. something like, ] You're welcome, [ or ] Perhaps pay more attention to that right hook next time.

// feel free to work with any of this or pm / hit me up on plurk at provenance to plot!

closed.

[poppycock]

ｄａｙ ｆｏｕｒ.

[ frost giants are certainly a more challenging foe. this does not deter nor sway klaus; on the contrary, the inconvenience is more invigorating. more importantly, they've breached the palace's walls, and that makes them an actual threat.

specifically to those he loves who can die and are fighting.

he is brutal, a more merciless and vicious edge to his attacks now that his adversaries are a truer risk. as charmed as he's been by asgard's splendor, it is a conjuring of wonderland's design, and he knows this is the catch. he intends to weather if not defeat it, as always.

that is why the frost giants he comes across begin to converge on him, drawn by the bodies he begins to leave in his wake. they are smart, some stronger, but they are not faster, and he uses this to his advantage, breaking legs and ripping hearts out where he can. he's been slashed, bled, bruised, and splintered in equal measure. he loses his sword in the melee. it's then, thrown against a column of the throne room and struggling to get up, that he knows this fight with a particularly brutish giant needs to be at its end.

he moves slow to his knees but quick like lightning to attack — and in that moment he does not see the icy sword encased in the frost giant's fist until it's impaled through his chest. until it rips his rib cage apart. the pain is not quick to come, but he is still when it does. he opens his mouth in a whimper and blood pours out.

he hears the chuckle of the giant, sees the victory in his red eyes. fear and rage stirs in him. fight does too. but that is before the giant wrenches his fist and sword back, places a hand on his chest, and cold sweeps through him. ]

[persevere]

[Until now, Caroline has actually enjoyed Wonderland's shenanigans for once, too.

At first, it had all been fun and games, food and drink, gorgeous dresses and braided updos. Caroline would have been lying if she said she hadn't taken advantage to the fullest, being confronted with the first potentially fun thing since readjusting to Wonderland life and beginning to accept the things that had happened both here and back home.

Then things changed, as they so often did, and she had donned armor.

She'd felt like Xena, and it felt really good.

A little too good, if she was being honest. Caroline was not a lover of violence under normal circumstances, but she'd been in the thick of the fighting since the beginning, testing her speed against things much weaker than her, flexing her strength and showing no mercy to her enemies. As each one fell, she wanted more, the rush of victory like fire in her veins.

For awhile, it's easy to protect those around her that are weaker than her. Staying a step or several ahead is simple, easy. That edge starts to fade and then blur almost completely at the arrival of the frost giants. She and others begin to lose ground, to lose soldiers, and she hasn't come out unscathed. However, they haven't taken her down yet, nor relieved her of her last remaining dagger, and as their advantage continues to shrink, it at least brings her closer to the people that matter, the ones she wants to make it out alive with.

It's not hard to find the trail of bodies that Klaus has left in his wake, nor be drawn to the sound of the fighting as more come after him. She sees it happen, even begins to open her mouth to warn him, but he's too fast. So is his enemy, the one who runs him through.

Fear lances through her, followed closely by denial. It's fine, she thinks. It'll heal.

But as the frost giant places a hand on his chest, she can see the flesh beneath start to blacken and burn as it freezes solid.

That's when she screams his name.]

cw character almost death-ish

[poppycock]

[ blood spills in a torrent from his opened chest. he hears a scream. faintly, he knows that it is her, but he cannot process or consider it past the bitter, burning cold reaching into him, encasing his heart, freezing the breath stuttering from his lungs. he cannot see anything but the blur of movement around him, the vivid focus of the frost giant's crimson eyes alight with malice and delight.

whatever is left of his blood hardens in his veins. his pulse ceases with a few excruciating beats, the branching of dark veins climbing from the black of his frostbite up his neck. he feels the graying of his skin, the desiccation like a familiar poison, like an old enemy claiming its hungry vengeance.

it feels as if he is dying, but he knows that can't be so.

what does he know, in this place?

he hopes she doesn't come for him. he hopes she stays away. those are his last thoughts before oblivion starts to takes him, before he's released like heavy weight. he does not feel the floor underneath him. he does not see the frost giant lifting his foot to bring it down on him —

to deal the final blow — ]

[persevere]

[Her eyes see too far, too clearly. She sees what is happening and refuses to believe it; he can't die, it's impossible. There's no white oak to speak of, so the rest must be a trick of the eye, a fallacy.

Except she's not so sure it is.

The frost giant doesn't see her as a threat, which makes him an idiot. He doesn't even turn to look at her when she screams, so intent on killing off what he's already maimed, and it proves to bring him a quick death.

It's only quick because she doesn't have time to make it slow.

The dagger, her last, explodes through the monster's neck in a spray of icy shards, effectively decapitating him where he stands. A moment later, and she's flinging the body aside, knowing there's no need to worry about it any more.

There's more coming. They (or is it just she now?) can't stay here.

She kneels down to slip her arms under him to pick him up, refusing to take note of how light he is, instead speeding off to find at least a semblance of sanctuary. Finally, she sinks back to the ground, finally taking a proper look at him, an action that she's been dreading.

She's been here before. She's seen Stefan like this before, skin grey and lifeless, and the familiarity of it sends her heart into the pit of her stomach. Her first thought is to scream for Bonnie, but she isn't here so she thinks of the only other person who might be able to help.]

Freya! Help me!

[Then she lifts a wrist to her mouth, tearing open the skin there, and presses her bleeding wound to his mouth.

She doesn't think it's going to work, but he's not supposed to be able to die, like this, and she has to do something.]

[deathlessness]

[Returning to her Viking roots, even if it's briefly, had been more fun than Freya had anticipated. There's something about this event that takes some of the complications of the everyday world off her shoulders and allows her to achieve a simple goal - fight for Asgard. Destroy their enemies, save the world, and surely a feast in their honor will follow. But that single minded focus is shattered the moment she hears Caroline call her name and she sees the state of her brother.

She dashes to their side, immediately throwing up a boundary spell when she's close enough to protect them, before dropping down at Klaus's side.]

Did it destroy his heart?

[persevere]

[Freya drops down to the ground, and Caroline pulls her wrist away from his mouth, wiping away the blood left after the wound heals away on her pant leg. Her voice is strained with panic, but she holds the worst of it at bay; they're in the middle of a war zone. Maybe the Asgardian outfits are helping, too.

Or it just hasn't sunk in yet.

Caroline shakes her head.]

I don't know. I don't think so. He didn't start to desiccate until the thing started to freeze him.

[shorthair]

( ordinarily, clementine would be nowhere near the battle. in fact when creatures started showing up, she boarded herself up in her own room to stay safe- to say alive. she's an expert at surviving, but then- then she couldn't reach georgia or shaun, which was scary. and she didn't want to be the type of person who could just lock themselves away while the world around her died (not anymore, not while she's here and she has connections that mean something).

it turns out she was too late to help shaun, but she did her best to keep georgia protected for the rest of the event.

and on her way back, she falls through one of those anomalies and winds up in the middle of the battle ground when the frost giants make their way through. they're faster and stronger than she is by a lot, and she knows better than to try shooting one with a shotgun if only to avoid getting their attention. it also means she fails to gain anyone else's attention, and someone warrior-ing accidentally smacks her as they run past chasing down a frost giant.

she hits the wall.)

Fuck. ( and now one of those things sees her and is advancing on her. great. she doesn't realize klaus is nearby in full on asgardian-fight mode. )

screams

[poppycock]

[ klaus would rather she lock herself up while the whole world died. he knows that is simply an impossible request, being aware of clementine's habitual kindness and goodness; the depths of how much she cares for those that matter to her are bottomless. he also knows it's a bit of overprotectiveness that would border on insulting — after all, she's survived plenty, and deserves her due.

but she won't survive this. he scents her a moment after he hears her curse amidst the blood and gore and screams and shouts. he has just finished snapping off an intruder's head with slow and vicious force as the frost giant attempted to fight him off. the blackened frostbite on his arm is still healing when his head turns to the source of his attention.

he would panic, if he didn't already know he would win this fight. but he does feel fear and rage, as icy as the creatures around him, seeing her cornered and afraid.

knowing how defenseless she truly is.

he does not hesitate. in a blur of movement he stops behind the frost giant, his hand punching into his chest. blood erupts, the warrior's heart in his fist, but that end is far too quick and far too merciful. klaus grabs the giant's shoulder to rip its chest cavity in two.

their foe falls in a heap.

(she doesn't know what he is. not who he is. but she does and will now.)

klaus grabs her and in a whoosh moves her to safety, falling to his knees in front of her, his bloody hands at her elbows. ] What do you think you're doing out here? [ the question is not accusatory, but it is worried with a promise of admonishment. ]

ahhh screams more

[shorthair]

( clementine is positive she's going to die.

she's already starting to run despite knowing it won't make a difference. it's so much faster than she is. she's terrified. there's so little that can scare her anymore, but she has never actually died before. she's always made it at the last second before the teeth can clamp down or the gun can be fired into her heart or the infection can take hold.

it's always a struggle, but she makes it and this time she won't.

she only stops when she realizes he's there. clementine doesn't recognize him at first, but she sees the blur and the heart and the creature fall to the ground at her feet. her mouth parts in amazement.

maybe there should be fear instead, but- but it's so much power. he has so much power in his fingertips. it's amazing. she wants to be even a quarter as powerful as that. suddenly, before she can react, they're somewhere free like that. there's no struggling past more warriors.

they're just gone in the same blur. )

Holy shit. ( she breathes out in wonder, and then realizes he's speaking to her. the blood doesn't bother her at all. she's been around so much blood and death, and she was sure she was going to die- she hugs him immediately in gratitude before her brain catches up with the rest of her, allowing her speech. ) I was helping a friend, and- and I fell into one of those anomaly things. Otherwise I would have been locked up in my room where I've been since they started getting through.

[poppycock]

[ he doesn't expect her embrace. he is too overcome with concern, rage for what would have killed her, and resignation knowing she will have questions. will she be afraid of him? will she no longer look at him with affection and trust in her eyes? will he cease to be the man who understands her and become like the monsters she fears to be? (he is not a good person, and he has not always had good reason.)

he is not expecting her embrace, fierce and without fear, so when it comes it takes him a moment to react. she doesn't seem afraid. (he thinks of his daughter and how he hasn't been there to protect her. would she hug him like this?) his arms lift to encircle and hold her, his eyes closing, wanting the gesture to calm her just as it settles in him as something precious; something indispensable. she's all right.

it's as he suspected: what brings her here, however unintentionally, is her loyalty. ] What friend? [ his hand rests on her shoulder and he pulls back to look her in the eyes. ] Do you need help?

[shorthair]

( clementine tightens her hold on him, recognizing the hug as being one of both comfort and relief. he's relieved she's okay, and- and she's so grateful he saved her. the hug helps to quell the fear pounding in her chest at the feeling she wouldn't survive (wondering if whoever found her would know to destroy her brains so she doesn't come back the wrong way).

she does have a lot of questions. she's learned some from rebekah. she knew he had powers, but this seems like- that seemed far different than their just having been given powers like it changed them in ways that didn't just make them strong. she's not sure if it's the time to ask about it since there's still an event going on, but it's clear in her expression as they pull back that there are questions.

but there's no fear. it's hard for her to be afraid, and she can't be afraid of someone who stopped her from becoming what she fears more than anything (becoming a walker. it scares her more than the thought of dying ever could). ) Georgia. I helped her as much as I could, but I don't think she'll be okay until- until her brother comes back. ( but clementine boarded up her door and left food and drink for when shaun does come back. it's all she could think of to do, and she still can't wrap her head around loving, trusting someone so much to be rendered to such a state of grief. it's terrifying to imagine, and at the same time, it's terrible to think she might not ever love that deeply, because she's too busy protecting herself from the inevitability of loss. )

I was trying to make my way back to my room so I could hide until all this shit blows over.

[poppycock]

[ perhaps she won't survive. but as long as she's here, he will make sure that she does. that, if nothing else, bears no question; he sees plenty in her eyes. not fear, no; then again she doesn't know what he's done. the bodies he's left in his wake. the torture and torment he's committed. a part of him would like this to stay that way, but he doubts a child as sharp as clementine will hear the words "vampire" and "werewolf" or even the vagueness of "super-powered immortal" without considering a body count, the rest of what he's said considered.

(he doesn't know if he could do anything but look in her eyes and lie by anything but omission.)

it's only then, reaching to push back a strand of hair escaped from her cap that he realizes what blood is on his hands.

he pauses, eyes drawn to the still-drying stains, and then swallows thickly. he finds the fierceness to reassure her, his hand slowly falling. ] Well then she will be. At the least this place grants us that. [ a crash and a roar from some close distance away beckons his attention; his head turns towards the sound.

speaking of hiding. he moves to stand. ] Let's get you back to your room, ey?

day three;

[persevere]

[She's glad they had their little talk before this event, before everything turned into a war. It's so much nicer fighting back to back with someone when it wasn't super awkward.

Did she just think that fighting was nice?

She twists the neck of an ogre like it's tissue paper, watching the body crumple to the ground.]

That's thirty-seven. Better keep moving or I'm going to catch up to you.

[poppycock]

[ his brow raises at her threat, an ogre's thick neck crushed beneath his grip. the frankly rancid-smelling thing is choking on its own spittle, unable to lash out as klaus is keeping him at arm's length and unable to break away.

with an enclosing of his fist something in his neck snaps, his throats tears open, and blood pumps out.

before the body hits the ground klaus has blurred away to drive a sword through another. then he blurs again, knocking two more rampaging ogres' heads together with sickening crunches. those were coming straight for her. the last of his victims crumple to the ground and he turns an amused, blood-spattered face her way. ] Fifty-two. I think I'm safe. [ he reaches down to retrieve his sword. ]

[persevere]

[She rolls her eyes.]

Show off. You wouldn't have that kind of lead if you weren't stealing mine.

[Her head turns then, her blonde hair half up and swinging over her shoulder as another comes running at her. Before Klaus can steal another kill from her, she blurs across the distance, drawing and sinking a dagger into its shoulder to keep it still before her right hand drives through his chest, quickly and efficiently removing its heart.

It beats once in her fingers before it stalls as she lets it drop.]

stupids

[poppycock]

[ she need not worry; he has no intention of stealing this kill from her. on the contrary he's all too absorbed in watching her demonstrated strength and viciousness with something prideful and soft. it's a brightness in his eyes borne from wave of her hair to stab of her blade to the blood on her fingers as she turns to face him: she's beautiful and powerful and desirable.

he does not hesitate and could not stop himself from telling her of his admiration with this long, lingering look. with the smile that accompanies it. ]

cuties

[persevere]

[As she turns back toward him, looking rather pleased with herself, she sheathes her dagger with one hand, taking the other and casually sucking the blood off of each one in slow succession.

It's no B positive, but it's fresh.

She catches him watching her then, and her lips curl into a grin of their own as she cocks her head at him.]

What?

oh no

[poppycock]

( that bright warmth turns to a flicker of heat the moment he catches sight of her pink tongue against the pad of a finger. heat he is not prepared for; desire that floods him. he can smell the blood she takes into her mouth from where he stands, senses heightened by the stirring of his longing tenfold.

another man might stop to consider this impulse and its repercussions. perhaps some might blame the armor or the bloodlust.

he does consider them, and he doesn't care to be careful nor cautious.

he's in front of her, hand wrapped firm and restraining around her wrist, thumb sliding into her palm to stop her from taking the last of that blood. for a long moment, a wickedness in his eyes as he searches her gaze, he looks at her. he looks at her even as he drops his head to touch his lips to her thumb, his tongue to the blood clinging there. he wraps his lips around the fingerprint and kisses it clean. )

day four, after the frost incident

[hypoxic]

[It's painful to see Klaus like this. Fitz has arrived too late for the details of it. He doesn't know much beyond the urgent message from Freya, the understanding that the weakness inherent in his mortality might be the thing that Klaus needs most. She'd noted that he needed enough blood to kill a man and that it would be best to split the difference.

Even though he's dropped everything to arrive as quickly as possible, the bulk of the excitement is already over. Klaus is stable, if a gut-churning shade of gray. And though Fitz agreed without question upon hearing that his friend was in danger, Fitz slows at this point. He hovers over Klaus, not sure how to position himself. Is it safe to move Klaus' head? Should he kneel beside him? Is there a certain angle that would produce optimal results?

I'm -- not sure if you're awake like this. But in the event you are... Hello. Heard you got into a bit of a scrap. I hope you don't mind me here, for this part.

[ He's not comfortable with the idea of slicing into his own wrist, he realizes as he rolls up his right sleeve. He'll tentatively press his arm against the pallor of Klaus' mouth. Does it work like this? Does he need to force it further? ]

[poppycock]

[ it's painful to be like this. every breath is agony in his once-torn lungs. his heart beats but slow and sluggish, the blood in his veins like sludge and sandpaper. he is hungry. he is weak. he was defeated.

the word stirs in him rage the likes of which his body cannot manage nor comprehend. (it's not the defeat — it's knowing the mortality he can face here. here, in wonderland, he is not so invincible.)

the hovering and constant barrage of orders to rest and recuperate without the satisfaction of flowing blood and ripped-out spleens is hardly comforting. on the contrary, they only lend to his frustration. but he is here regardless, every joint and muscle and breath and beat of his heart aching. he is here, reclined back on the pillows where his family left him. his throat is dry, like a desert, but awareness and that ever-constant presence of rabid thirst stir him the moment the door opens.

it's leopold. he scents his friend, knows his breath and heartbeat, and the tempo of his steps.

his heartbeat, steady and strong and rushing blood.

it's the predator in him. the hunger. the weakness that necessitates saving strength. he stays still, his thirst warring against his understanding of the words his friend speaks, until he smells the blood running through his veins so close.

his hand shoots out to grab fitz's wrist with strength and speed before his skin reaches his own. to keep him there. not to bite. his lips part and his eyes slowly open. ] So you're who they sent to belie me.

[hypoxic]

[Fitz gasps when Klaus grabs him; it isn't often that Klaus presents his true speed. Every time it's a fresh reminder of their power imbalance, and the daily kindness that his friend provides when he proves himself kinder and gentler than he needs to be. Fitz won't fight against the grip or try to push himself closer. Not yet, at least.]

Freya told me you'd been hurt. As I understand it, it's my turn to administer healing via blood transfusion.

[It sounds more confident than he is. He fully intends to look away until the deed is done, as he would while receiving a vaccination or donating to one of Jemma's experiments.]

[poppycock]

Well I'd prefer a carotid artery. [ spoken in jest. perhaps half in jest.

freya told me you'd been hurt. it's my turn to administer healing. of course she did. of course she'd choose the one human who would not hesitate to offer himself and the one he wouldn't slaughter on a whim of savagery borne of need. and of course he would come to his aide with a willing and level logic, prepared to open a vein.

it means something to klaus. he's quiet, something more than rage and hunger in his eyes. his thumb presses into leo's wrist; he feels the steady pulse pushing against the pressure.

but there is still hunger. there is still need. his eyes fill next with dark, his veins pulsing at his eyes, pupils turning to gold and the points of his fangs dropping. he may love this man, but he needs him more, his instincts are clear, and his greed — well his greed and entitlement have always been certain.

he pulls fitz in, sinks his teeth into the fleshy part of his forearm where the blood flows just a little bit better, and drinks. ]

[hypoxic]

Well -- if you think that would be best, I could--

[He only makes it part of the way through considering the proposition. All too quickly, Klaus' face twists into something beastly, and Fitz's eyes drop away out of instinct. He knows his friend hasn't left during those periods, but it doesn't make the sight easier to digest.

There's pain in his arm, and his hand clenches into a fist. It tenses -- but that won't help, will it? Klaus needs him to commit to circulation. He'll release and squeeze to the best of his ability. Perhaps he should have brought a stress ball.]

...There. Wasn't that hard, yeah? You're doing great.

[He'll come a bit closer so that Klaus won't have to pull so hard, setting his weight on the edge of the cot. He makes it a point to look anywhere but the point of contact, where his friend's breath is hot against his skin. This is fine. It's perfectly normal. Everyone does this.]

[poppycock]

[ even in his weakness and thirst he is not without presence of mind. he knows what leo seeks to do, looking with fear and denial away from the monstrous visage he bares; it's what he has always done. klaus is not hiding; he will not hide, and it's with a shameless display of the beast he is that he doesn't.

his eyes, scleras filled with black and pupils glowing golden, stay on leo until the draw of his blood, fresh and savory and sweet hits and consumes his senses. then he nearly moans at the whetting and sating of his appetite — it's one thing to be near death just a short hour or two ago and starving, and it's another to taste from the vein as he hasn't in ages.

he swallows down the mouthfuls pulsing into his waiting mouth. he draws in, ravenous. he can feel warmth in his insides, life in him; color and vitality and healing. he wants it all and he could take it —

he won't. there's no question, on the cusp of of hearing the moment just before leopold's heart beat slows, what he will do. he pulls away, head tipping back, lips parted and blood staining his lips, eyes closed in bliss. he veins again and opens his eyes, licking his lips and catching his breath. ] Thank you. [ this he means, a sincerity even in the fierceness of his ever-present hunger. he releases leo's arm. ]