6994/Meanwhile, Back in Club Mjolnir

Meanwhile, Back in Club Mjolnir
Date of Scene:	22 March 2019
Location:	Club Mjolnir
Synopsis:	Silver meets a real Valkyrie!
Cast of Characters:	Silver Sable, Valkyrie

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Silver Sable has posed:
For Silver, she's become a regular fixture at Mjolnir. It helps that the Wild Pack and her personal bodyguards like the atmosphere. It's not far from the UN if they're needed urgently across the water but it's on the other side of the invisible line of demarcation that makes the UN Assembly building 'sacred territory' where mere mercenaries are not allowed to relax.

Silver's dressed in white today, white business slacks, jacket, periwinkle blue blouse with a white tie. The blouse's sleeves are rolled back over her jacket cuffs and three-inch spike bootheels peek out under the perfect cuff of her trouser leg.

She's sitting at the bar in a place where her back's to the wall and she has clear line of sight to the door, and is eating a cold meal with a distracted hand while working on something on the tablet in her other hand. This task seems to be commanding most of her attention and she sets the tablet down with a sigh so she can rub her eyes. "Please, another beer?" she requests of the waitress as she walks past.

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn has only -heard- of Club Mjolnir, but it's really not something she could pass up. At least to stick her head inside. She's been wandering Midgard pretty much ever since Ragnarok and the founding of New Asgard, although she finds her steps more often lingering in the Tri-State Area.

The dusky-skinned woman steps inside, pausing to look around. Dark eyes brighten, a twitch of a smile forming on her lips as she checks out the decor. Boot heels scuff on the floor as she heads towards the bar. She's dressed in biker leathers, boots and jacket, with well-worn jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. Climbing up onto a stool a couple away from the white-haired business woman, Bryn rests an elbow on the bar. "Ale, unless the mead doesn't suck."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver glances over at Brynn. She's given a flickering head-to-toe. Less lascivious, though, than thorough. Hands, waist, ankles, wrists, ribs, face. Looking for concealed weapons or violent intent.

"Make mine mead as well," Silver prompts the waitress before she starts drawing the drinks. They're pulled from an authnetic keg behind the counter and froth with a merry comportment despite being more or less 'mortal friendly'.

"The mead here *is* good," Silver assures Brynn. "But as far as I know they serve nothing here that isn't exceptional."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn isn't carrying any weapons, although the attire might suggest otherwise. Her demeanor is casual and confident, sprinkled with plenty of amusement. The scrutiny is returned, Bryn's upper lip twitching a bit as she surveys the white suit. "Wasn't aware that this was a formal place." she offers. The bartender gets a nod on the mead.

Settling back a bit on the bar stool, she takes another long, slow look around the place that ends with the replica of the legendary hammer mounted over the bar. "Pretty good likeness, that." she offers. "How long's this place been around? I don't get this way very often, but that could change."

The dark-skinned woman has an accent, but it's difficult to place unless one is familiar with Asgardians.

Silver Sable has posed:
"A month, I think," Silver says, answering Brynn's question. "Miracle Elle is the proprietor. I think Fisk is the owner, though," she remarks. "And no. Not formal wear. I come here from work, so going and getting changed is just a lot of detouring. If I get called back in, I might not be sober, but I won't be underdressed," she says, and hefts her mead a half-inch in salute to Brynn before taking a sip. "Nice jacket. What sort of bike do you ride?" she inquires conversationally.

Valkyrie has posed:
"Thanks. It's an Indian." Bryn replies. "Found me a vintage Chief a while back. You ride?" Her mead is set down and she raises the tankard for a taste. Brows lift and she nods. "Not bad at all. Yeah, I've heard a lot about Miracle Elle alright. Stories are mostly bunk, though, I'd wager."

Silver Sable has posed:
"A little." Silver sips her ale again and folds her tablet cover shut to protect the device. She eases back as if the act of closing the cover had relieved some pressure on her shoulders. "Mostly cross-country." Her heavy Baltic accent definitely marks her as a visitor to New York. "Little bit of highway travel. On a BMW mostly." Definitely European, then.

She glances at Brynn again. "I'm Silver," she says, introducing herself to the woman finally. "Your accent sounds familiar," she tells the woman, cautiously. "Perhaps from a new settlement in Norway, ya?" It's a cagey invitation to let Brynn volunteer details without pinning her down with too much personal information in mixed company.

Valkyrie has posed:
As Silver turns more towards her, Bryn does the same. Raising her tankard, she drinks deeply of the mead while the white-haired woman talks. Setting it down heavily onto the bar, she licks her upper lip and flashes a knowing smile.

"I'm Bryn. And yeah, you've got a good ear for accents. What do you know of New Asgard, then?" She slips out of her jacket, setting it onto an adjacent bar stool. Her arms are well-toned; someone who gets plenty of regular exercise. And there's a tattoo on the inside of her right forearm, near the elbow. A stylized 'V' with wings at the top, the point ending in a long blade.

"You're not -from- there." It's not a question, either.

Silver Sable has posed:
"I've met a surprising number of transplants," Silver demures, shaking her head. "I have not been to that holy place though. Perhaps when you welcome visitors, I will make of it a pilgrimage."

"Lord Thor is here quite often. But it is a small matter for you to come here, no?" she asks of Brynn. "Thor seems to come and go like the storm itself. Around the world in hours. Minutes, even," she says, enviously.

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn gives a small snort at the use of the word 'holy', but she nods. "Thor's not the only one with the gift of travel." she offers. "I've personally not actually -been- to New Asgard. But I was... involved... in the events prior to its establishment. If you take my meaning."

Taking another deep draught of the tankard, she leans against the bar and swirls it casually. "I know Thor, and I know many other Asgardians. But what I don't know is your interest in them. You don't strike me as the 'fangirl' type, and if you come here regularly then you're probably alright. But I do consider New Asgard, and all of Midgard, under my protection. If that colors your actions any."

Silver Sable has posed:
"The old ways are not forgotten in some parts of the world," Silver assures Brynn. "We respect our forbears and the worship of the God of Thunder. It is... no, not the 'fangirling'," she agrees. Something like a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I know some who see him as a man, no matter how exceptional."

"Admittedly I'm uncertain how New Asgard came to be," she tells Brynn. "At least from the perspective of the gods. Why Earth? Of all the infinite worlds and places to live, what brings you to frigid Europe for a permanent settlement?"

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn shrugs at the question of Earth. "Not really sure on that one. I wasn't driving, see? Old Asgard was destroyed in Ragnarok, the last battle. I fought there. We lost. Mortals sometimes can't wrap their heads around whether the Nine Realms are really dimensions or more like planets. But it's something of both."

Draining her tankard, she sets the empty on the bar with a bit of a rattle, and gives the bartender a knowing look for a refill.

"It's something of both. Thor piled the last of Asgard's population into a ship and set course for Earth. They crashed in Norway and founded the colony. I left before then to do my own exploring."

Silver Sable has posed:
"I confess the idea of a colony ship is ... not terribly romantic," Silver hedges. "I mean no offense. The stories of old speak little of other than the royal family and their cousins and friends. I am trying to resolve... the difference between Asgard as mystical afterlife and Asgard as a literal, physical place." She frowns and wiggles her tankard at the bartender as well, nodding thanks. "Let alone that it is in Norway. I like Norway. I might have picked Key West," she confesses.

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn laughs softly at that, nodding. "Or the Bahamas." She nose-wrinkles, then. "Actually, that's too commercialized. But if you know the old stories, then I'll say that all stories have some basis in fact." she offers.

"You ever hear stories of Valkyries? Because they're as real as Thor."

Silver Sable has posed:
"I've always thought it bad luck to speak of the Valkyriad casually," Silver tells Brynn with a tugging smile again. "Choosers of the slain. Time comes for all mortals," she allows, and reaches for her mead to take a deep draught. "I have seen good soldiers quit the fight staring into something only they could see. I like to think the Valkyrie soothe the pain of the worthy and ease their way to Valhalla. I think I am, perhaps, not ready to be chosen," she informs Brynn with a dry humor.

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn regards her curiously for a moment, then shakes her head. "No, it's not your time." she replies in a softer voice. A knowing voice. "The Valkyrjur can't really ease the pain of those who die, but they -do- take them to a better place."

"You are a Believer. I like that. My full name is Brynnhildr, like in the Wagnerian opera. But without the brass boobs." She points to the tattoo on her forearm, then.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver almost drops her mead at Brynn's casual name-dropping. She hisses between her teeth but more in reaction to the bomb dropped on her than the mead splattering the bartop. "I hope yo-- ah. Yes," she says, checking her instinctive reaction. "Not my time, as you say."

Still she sits like a woman on a live wire, and though she doesn't give an inch of space she still goes a little rigid in the manner of someone expecting violence. "I ... suppose I should give you thanks. A drink, if it's not disrespectful," she says, and beckons the waitress over. "Bourbon. The Pat van Winkle," she says, pointing at a bottle behind security glass. "Two."

"You've no doubt taken more than a few of my comrades over the years. Symkaria has many of the faithful yet."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn laughs softly at the woman's reaction. "Yeah, you can relax. And please don't take my humor wrong. I'm flattered, truly. Just a bit surprised, is all." And for all that, the thought of bourbon is certainly a welcome one, based on her expression.

"Symkaria? Yeah, I've definitely heard of the place. Thought your accent was familiar. There are quite a few of your kinsmen in Valhalla."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver closes her eyes and takes a slow breath. Meditative. "Thank you," she tells Brynn, simply. Bourbon's passed over. "Absent friends," she offers, and waits for Brynn before sipping the shot. It's far too fine a bourbon to slam back.

"It's a bit of a stopper," she admits. "I mean, meeting a Valkyrie. Face to face. And knowing that... good men and women went to their just desserts. They did not just go into the darkness alone and scared and in pain."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn raises her glass as well, clinking softly. "Absent friends." she murmurs with a nod. And yes, the Asgardian even sips the bourbon. Her tongue slips out, wetting her upper lip thoughtfully. Savoring the taste. "They did. And they fought valiantly alongside our forces at Ragnarok."

Lowering her glass, she toys with it for a moment. "The Valkyrjur lost many at Ragnarok as well. Plus, when Asgard was destroyed we had to move Valhalla to another Realm. So. On top of everything else that's going on, I'm recruiting. As it were."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver tries to process that, looks at her bourbon, and then throws it back with a gulp. "Two more," she coughs, and waves the waitress over.

"I'm afraid that we're pushing against the limits of my understanding of physics. Or theology," she confesses. "I struggle with the notion that Valhalla is 'a place' at all, let alone that it can be... moved. This seemed much simpler five years ago," she tells Brynn, rather dryly. "I command my troops, we offer praise to Odin and gratitude to the worthy who the Valkyrie... well, you," she amends, "escort to their afterlife."

"Adding geography to the mix complicates things tremendously."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn smiles almost wickedly at that, chuckling. "More booze won't exactly help with the understanding, I'm afraid. Not a bad idea, though." When Silver orders two more, the Valkyrie slams back the rest of her own bourbon as well.

"Just don't think on the details. Asgard is now New Asgard, in Norway. Valhalla has been moved. And Valkyrie can travel freely between them both. Yeah, my -other- ride is a winged horse."

She taps her fingers upon the bar, then. "So tell me about your troops. Wasn't aware you were a commander."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver digs in her jacket breast pocket. It's a masculine cut, for someone with an eye for fashion, but softened with the white and pastel tones. She produces a business card and hands it to Brynn. It says: Silver Sablinova. Owner, Silver Int'l. Below it, a long international phone number and a domestic US number with email. On the reverse: "Wild Pack".

"We're the largest paramilitary contracting agency in the world. Operations on every continent including Antarctia," she says, proudly. "Peacekeeping, security, bodyguard work. We recruit some of the finest soldiers and professionals in the world and hone them into the best there is. The Wild Pack are the elite. My personal bodyguard and operational teams. They regularly shame many special operations groups all over the world. Reasonable rates, too, though I imagine they'd need some reassurances about becoming Einherjar for hire."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn looks at the card, keeping her gaze on that while Silver elaborates. "Being a valkyrie ain't a weekend job, Silver. It ain't for starry-eyed glory-seekers, not that I'm saying you are. And we don't work on commission."

"I don't doubt your boys and girls are good, but I'd want to talk with them personally. I want to see them work. Go along on a mission or two, to see how you operate." She flashes a wide smile at the last. "And I won't charge for my services."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver balks. "Wait, are... you can't be recruiting *me*," she tells Brynn, uneasily. "I am competent enough, but... by mortal standards." In truth, Silver might be one of the most effective soldiers operating in the world today, even at her young age. "And I am surely not worthy to serve among such noble warriors, or escort the honored dead to Valhalla."

But a grin tugs up the corners of her mouth, dimpling near her eyes. "*My* people work for commission. So they'll certainly welcome a ready gun hand who works for free. There may be some work that you might be suited for," she tells Brynn. "We've been contracted to provide village peacekeeping support in Senegal. Mostly poachers, but some of them are old tribal warriors pushing for blood. A nice tidy sort of fight with a good payout and not a lot of complicated ethical issues."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn lifts a hand, then. "No promises and no obligations either way, Silver. For now, this is just me saying I'm interested in getting to know your Wild Pack. You're Believers, that's sure enough. But Frost Giants and Fire Giants are Believers, too. For very different reasons."

Listening to the mission briefing, Bryn nods slowly. "Sounds easy enough, then. As for what I might be suited for...?"

Dark eyes sparkle, her smile becoming a touch wicked. "Bring it."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver laughs at Brynn's words. It's a short chopping chuckle, but compared to her glacial deliberation it's almost a belly laugh. "Easy enough for a Valkyrie, I'm sure," she tells Brynn. "If you feel unchallenged, I can fish for some more ambitious contracts. The Wrecking Crew, for instance. Filching pocket change from von Doom's castle. You know. Weekend fun instead of the 'nine-to-five' grind."

Valkyrie has posed:
Bryn laughs as well, shaking her head. "Nothing too crazy, thanks. Remember, I'm only along as a 'consultant'. Or, if you'd rather, call me a new recruit or something. Don't think of me as some hero who's there to save the mission or anything. I want to watch."