9364/A Night At Mjolnir

A Night At Mjolnir
Date of Scene:	29 September 2019
Location:	Club Mjolnir, Clinton (Hell's Kitchen), Manhattan
Synopsis:	A personal overseeing of her club lands Elle not one, but two interesting encounters.
Cast of Characters:	Hela, Wolverine, Grail

---

Hela has posed:
Some days it gets busier, others less so, tonight happens to be one of the less busy nights at Club Mjolnir. This allows to more openings along the vast long tables, and only a few Faering boats are actually taken for private dinning. The bar itself is almost entirely open, which gives enough space for the proprietess, 'Miracle Elle' to wander about and check on patrons, see that all have their needs fulfilled. The music is an folksy Viking themed selection tonight.

Wolverine has posed:
Logan has his favorite bars, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like to make the rounds. Club Mjolnir certainly has an aesthetic he enjoyed, and the fact that the bar had enough space for him to sit alone at it tonight was certainly welcome. So that's where he is, hunched over with elbows up on the counter and a short glass of neat bourbon clutched in one hand. He drums his fingers on the glass, tilting his head slightly to watch the proprietress make her rounds.

Grail has posed:
She had really been quite upset over that last meeting she had and on the wrong damn satelite at that. How many satelite bases does some backwater planet like Earth really need?! Grail now was actually just walking through a part of NYC and happened upon the bar known as Club Mjolnir. At least she assumed it was a bar. It looked interesting enough and perhaps there might acutally be some of those Asgardians here. She had heard they were on Earth somewhere. Probably not.

Either way, she walks in to the place, not really looking where she is going other than to the bar. She actually brushes past Logan, likely bumping him a little if he doesn't move as she pushes past to the bar, leans into it, causing it to creak just a little from both weight and strength before she starts looking over their offerings.

Hela has posed:
When Logan enters Club Mjolnir, Elle stops a moment from idly checking in with a couple at a Faering boat, and turns to look his way. She can tell he is not a regular, but she can also tell he is not unlike her everyday patrons. When you're someone like Logan, you have a certain past, that certain entities may take note of, regardless of accuracy of specifics. But even as Elle parts with the couple, and starts to head towards the bar where Logan took a seat, she stops yet again to turn her gaze towards the doorway.

Grail strikes quite a showing, with many eyes turn her way, to most it would appear as if she elected to come in cosplay to better fit with the club's theme. Elle, for her part, finds it fascinating enough to remark, "how appropriate...for that you get a free drink of choice. Safe to assume the House Mead will do?"

Wolverine has posed:
Logan turns his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder to make note of Elle heading over towards him. An elbow is propped up on the bar, glass still clutched in his hand. He opens his mouth to say something when Grail brushes past him, bumping him and sending some of the alcohol pitching up and over the rim of the glass onto the counter.

"Maybe watch where yer walkin', bub," he mutters, turning to get a better look at Grail and raising his eyebrows. Elle's own reaction seems to soothe his bad attitude for a moment, and he leans back, watching the slate grey woman in her strange armor.

"Huh," he grunts to himself, "Floorshow."

Grail has posed:
A look back at Elle, blinking at her with those big red eyes. She smirks slowly and then nods her head, "Well, I do not mind being offered such a thing. Is it strong? Very...strong?" She asks and tilts her head. There is an air of hopefulness and excitement to her voice right up until Logan speaks and her left eye twitches as it flares with a red glow from deep within those solid orbs. She grinds her teeth slightly before looking to him.

She slowly smiles at him and then leans her left arm on to the bar and leans down toward him, "Oh, I thought I heard someone say something but it seems it was just a small, barking dog." She smirks and then looks back to Elle with a grin, "Anyway, yes, I will accept your gift."

Hela has posed:
Elle looks amused at Logan's quip to Grail, though she makes no comment of her own, leaving it to one's imagination what of that exchange amused her precisely. Regardless, her full attention skews towards Grail for the time being. "Welcome to Club Mjolnir, I hope you find it to your likiing..." Elle greets, before averting her gaze to the prized replica hanging over the bar, "that of course would be our Mjolnir. Or perhaps Thor donated the real one...we may never know."

A moment's pause, and Elle remarks, "I love the touch on your eyes, very intimidating," albeit despite her words, Elle doesn't seem very intimidated. Than again, she does seem to have the notion that Grail is merely cosplaying to fit in with the club's theme. "If you dare test your stomach, our range goes from non-alcoholic 'mead' all the way to the Nectar of The Gods," Elle offers jovially, as she gestures towards the bar, "Henrik would be glad to pour you one on the house, whichever you prefer," she nods her head at the bartender, to show she fully intends to keep her word to serve Grail on the house.

"I will have you know that Club Mjolnir is established to perserve the old ways, and put them on display for those who have been lost to modern times," Elle tells Grail while her gaze shifts towards Logan, "as such, hospitality and respect to fellow patrons are highly encouraged, there's no need to belittle those who share a drink in our company, is there?" A very polite way of relating to Grail how her comment was not appreciated.

Wolverine has posed:
As Grail leans into his face, Logan only grins. His jaw is unshaven, his features have that rough and warn look of many years living a hard life in cold places. His lips curl as she speaks, a toothy smile that disappears when he puckers his lips and makes two quick 'kiss kiss' sounds the moment she is at her closest. When she's made her quip, he simply lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip before saying - in a low, flat tone that is nevertheless veined with amusement.

"Woof."

But for all intents and purposes he seems entirely unphased by Grail's reaction, leaning sideways to look past her at Elle and hear the list of drinks on tap. The last one raises both his eyebrows and he turns to look at the barkeep, lifting one leg off the stool to fetch a beaten and haggard leather wallet out of his back pocket.

"Nectar of the Gods, eh? I'll take a sniff."

Grail has posed:
A look over at Elle and Grail grins before turning to order the Nectar of the Gods as well. She then looks over at Logan and hmms as she eyes him before looking to Elle, "Respect is a two way street." She states simply, "It is given when it is gotten." And she then settles into a stool and looks up, "Old ways?" She chuckles, "Many have told me of old ways." She considers, "Some parts of it I like, others I don't think have much place." She glances at Logan again and smirks as she looks him over. He reminded her so much of that ass.

Of course, she'd worry that she might murder this one with a punch so she avoids it...for now.

She instead looks to Elle and hmms, "And what do you mean anyway? YOu keep speaking as if my eyes or my outfit are in some way special? I suppose to you and yours it might seem odd."

Hela has posed:
Elle looks most pleased at Logan's handling of Grail's quip, the tip of her lip curve into a crooked smile, as she urges, "the Nectar of The Gods is not named that way lightly...be sure, if you'll have it, that you can handle hard drinks," she offers in warning, though in no way suggests he cannot have it. All are free to do as they please, after all, it is Club Mjolnir.

"Respect is freely offered by those who would be respected," Elle retorts at Grail's take of 'respect', after all, she is the proprietress and therefore determines the hospitality of her own establishment. In her eyes, at the very least. "Given when gotten is for the petty..." Elle remarks, "and holds no meaning in my Club. Here, all are welcome, all are friends." She nods at the questioning of 'the old ways'. "Be that as it may, the old ways hold very much a place at Club Mjolnir, if you have no taste for them, you are most welcome to leave, but if you choose to stay...have some respect for them, if you please," she goes as far as to incline her head towards Grail, beckoning respect for respect as she claimed. "Odd...? Not at all, it merely adheres with the Old Ways, believe it or not, these were common fare at one point in the past...all has its place and time in history."

Wolverine has posed:
"It's all good," Logan says cheerily, his voice nevertheless like gravel for all the mirth in it, "Ol' Red Eyes an' me are getting' t' be fast friends. Right?"

He nudges Grail with an elbow, winks sidelong at her, and then looks back to Elle: "We jus' had a misun'erstandin'. No disrespect here."

There's not a lot that intimidates Logan, and even the notion of potentially being batted around by some strange demon princess seems to run off him like water off a duck's back. All the same, he likes the venue and doesn't seem very keen to make a mess nor a fuss. Nor get kicked out when there's some sort of 'Nectar of the Gods' on offer.

He slides a crumpled note across the counter to the barkeep, waiting for a glass of the stuff to give it a try.

"Me an' hard liquor go way back. I'm sure I'll be juuuuust fine."

Grail has posed:
"That is not what I meant by odd but..." She then looks to Logan and looks at his elbow before she squints at him. She clears her throat and then looks back to Elle briefly before taking a breath and looking back to the bartender, "Yes, Nectar of the Gods." She states and then looks back over at Logan and eyes him briefly, "Yes, we have no disrespect, it seems." Though, strangely that spot where her left elbow is on the bar seems to whine.

Can wood whine? Sounds kinda like it can.

Hela has posed:
"It would appear that way," Elle shockingly seems to concur with Logan, perhaps she wasn't kidding about adherence to the Old Ways she so professes take hold within this hall. "Let us hope you are up to the challenge of the 'Nectar'," Elle quips at Logan, as he's served some Hrulfgar Mead, some of the finer Asgardian variety. She looks at Logan with anticipation as he samples his drink, mostly as a test to the worth of the mortal. She'd witness many who profess to be 'hard drinkers' succumb to just the one. It was only natural, when mortals tasted drinks for the divine.

"Have it in a drinking horn or a tankard for the full authentic experience," Elle suggests to Grail, having a far better idea about her capability of handling the drink, which is why her attention is beset on Logan alone.

Wolverine has posed:
Logan takes up the drink in one hand, holds it up to his nose and sniffs it inquisitively. For a normal human it might be some artsy reasoning like 'savoring the aroma' but in his case it is just making sure there's nothing funky in it. Some ingredients he's never even smelled before are there, certainly, but oh well - when in Rome. Or Asgard.

"Here's t' goin' swimmin' with glowy, red-eyed women," he salutes by raising the glass, downing the whole thing in one mouthful. He holds the glass still for a moment, tilting his head to one side. It burns on the way down, and there's certainly the kind of kick to it that he hasn't experienced before. But it doesn't knock him off his seat, and it doesn't immediately send him gasping for air.

Instead, he throws the glass on the ground with a loud crash and slams a heavy hand down on the bar and points a finger to the bartender: "Hoo! Damn. Okay, another one a' those, Hank."

Grail has posed:
For her part, Grail takes the drink and downs a good gulp of it before she hmms and nods, "That..." She blinks at Logan's reaction. She stares at him a moment before tilting her head and looking to Elle for ocnforimation of some things before looking again at Logan. She then looks at the drink and shakes her head, "...is pretty good." She states as she nods her head and then takes another swig before looking to Elle. "It's better than I had hoped." She then looks back to Logan, "He apparently enjoyed it. I guess." She then shakes her head.

"You are a very strange man." SHe then looks to Elle, "I am known as Grail."

Hela has posed:
Elle looks quite surprised, her eyes widening unexpectedly when Logan not only avoids faceplanting into the counter, but rather seems to have actually enjoyed the drink. The fact he shows his appreciation by throwing the glass on the ground and demanding another drink, makes her even more interested in him. "You certainly know the Old Ways, I've yet to witness such a proper appreciation to good drink," Elle says proudly as she cheers at Logan's demand for another, "next one is on the house, Henrik, the man deserves it!"

"Well met, Grail, named after the Holy One?" Elle muses, clearly being a history buff in one way or another, before she offers "I am known as 'Miracle Elle' for my work against the Black Sleep, but Elle is my name, no need for honorifics..."

She then turns towards Logan, "and who might you be? You are a most welcome guest at Club Mjolnir!"

Wolverine has posed:
"Yeah," Logan nods in agreement with Elle, "Well, figure a drink that good? The glass don't deserve t'have anythin' lesser in it ever 'gain."

He doesn't mention that the jerk of his arm and the motion of throwing the glass on the floor were entirely involuntary reactions brought on by the super-powered Asgardian mule kick to the base of his skull the drink gave him. But already his healing factor is pushing that all under the carpet, giving him the sort of buzz he'd completely lost touch with.

"Name's Logan," he says by way of introduction, turning to smile saccharine sweet at Grail and then offering Elle a respectful little half-bowing nod of the head, "Nice t' meet the pair a' you."

As his second drink arrives, Logan reaches out with both hands to receive it and looks covetously into the cup's shimmering contents, muttering his gratitude, "Thank you, Hank."

Grail has posed:
"No, not at all like the holy one." She states and technically, yes, that is the case but she doesn't care much for the idea of it. Either way, Grail downs the rest of her drink and drops then looks at the floor before shrugging and throwing down her glass, "It was much better than the swill served at Knowhere." She looks from one to the other, "A station I visit." She nods her head.

Grail than hmms as she considers, "All the same, this was a distraction from my task and I think I should be back to it." She nods to Elle, "It was nice to meet you, Elle. I believe." She then looks to Logan, "And I suppose it was a meeting, Logan." She then rolls a shoulder and starts toward the door, "I shall return here to try more of your drinks." She states simply.

Hela has posed:
Elle looks rather proud instead of offended at the glass that was thrown to the ground, taking Logan's words as high praise, "it is a pleasure to share our prized drink with those who can appreciate the skill it took to brew," she offers to Logan with the utmost sincerity.

With Grail's response, Elle turns to listen, rather curious about such a fancy namesake. "Nowhere? What a silly name...I take it one must use magic to find such a place?" Elle muses, as if she's never heard of such a place at all. "Be well on your way, Grail, may you find that you seek," Elle offers her self fashioned parting words, before turning to join Logan, "you really are a hard drinker, aren't you? Pray tell, where did you hone such a talent...?"

Wolverine has posed:
"Bye, Grail," Logan says to the princess as she departs, "I'll keep yer seat warm for you." He truly must have a death wish - like Pepe le Pew except the cat is a Bengal tiger.

He turns back in his seat to Elle when she asks her question, lifting his shoulders, "The Yukon, mostly. When the roads freeze up and nobody's shippin' Kentucky bourbon that far north, you gotta learn t' make do with what ya got. 'Sides that, I don't think it's much of a skill so much as an 'inherited talent.'"

He pats the now vacant stool alongside him, savoring his second drink a little more this time, "Usually I'm the drink alone type, but yer Nectar a' the Gods here has me in a social mood."

Hela has posed:
Were he any other man, Elle might have refused such an offer, but as it were, he is currently the most interesting man in the entire hall. So she joins by his side, motioning for Henrik to bring her a drinking horn of the same mead. The so called Nectar of The Gods. "You must have bloodlines that go all the way back to the Vikings themselves," Elle muses, "it's rare to see one who would order a second after trying a first, you could likely win drinking competitions easily. So how would you describe this Yukon you hail from?"

Wolverine has posed:
Logan weighs up the question, shuffling a little to one side so he's not crowding the bar and giving Elle plenty of space. It's almost an unconscious reaction, a more primal drive to get out of her way and make room. Still, there's only so far, he can go on the stool so they don't end up too far apart.

"Don't know about Vikings," he admits, "Don't really even have a last name. Or a first one. Never been quite sure which one 'Logan' is - figure it's a last name, though. Could be Vikings in the blood. Might explain how I've never been able t' shave."

He reaches up a hand to tug the rather bushy long sideburns that stretch down his jaw, smirking sidelong at Elle as he does so.

"The Yukon? Well, I ain't from there originally but it's where I spent my form'tive years, near as I can remember. Lots a' ice an' snow. Cold. Men made their money diggin' fer gold. What about you?"

Hela has posed:
"Having no last name would support my Viking theory, you would technically be named after your father, as is tradition," Elle offers warmly, Logan's performance with her choice drink having truly endeared him to her. "Ah...so you've no name whatsoever? The one you have...this 'Logan', is it given by any person? Or of your own choosing?" She asks by way of small talk.

"Cold climate...that too would fit with a man of proper Viking blood," Elle remarks, apparently thinking she's got some kind of angle towards Logan's ability to withstand the drink. "Have you ever found yourself capable of unusual feats?" She wonders, for now stalling the talk about herself.

Wolverine has posed:
"I must've picked it. Don't recall anyone givin' it t' me. But then, it's all I've ever been called. Could be it's my name, could be I jus' - I dunno, picked it up somewhere."

He has never been one to be truly guarded with who he is. There are some he knows who keep it all so very close to the chest. Not him. He's been around, seen enough places and met enough people that the truth tends to come out in the end, anyway. So, when Elle asks her questions, he answers them honestly.

"Unusual feats?" Logan asks, momentarily dismounting the stool to crouch down on the floor before once more returning to his seat. He's a touch unsteady on his feet, but not in any way discernible to those not playing the closest of attention, "I dunno, I guess - you consider this unusual?"

That said, he turns his hand to reveal a shard of glass from the broken cup between two fingers. He drags it immediately across the thin flesh at the back of his hand, cutting deep and spilling blood that he carefully angles his hand so as to not splash on the bar or floor. He glances up to meet Elle's eyes, expression darkly serious now and features wrung with a little bit of pain.

"Hold on, now. Give it a sec."

Almost as though they were the magic words, the wound on his hand begins to knit itself closed. Slow at first, and then speeding up until it is gone within a matter of minutes. He quickly swabs the blood away with the thumb of his other hand, raising his eyebrows and looking at her expectantly.

Hela has posed:
"It's interesting, Logan, some believe that names hold a great power over us...your story would suggest you are beyond such powers, a true boon," Elle seems most impressed at the possibilities of a man with no knowledge of his true name.

"Drinking Hrulfgar Mead and keeping your wits about you...that is a rare feat, it is storied that only the greatest of Viking warriors were able to withstand this particular brew, it was gifted to champions, choosen by the Valkyries themselves..." Elle maintains her connection with her professed love of the Old Ways of Scandinavia.

But when Logan goes on to show her a glimpse of his true 'unusual feat', Elle stares with fascination, "is this the work of magic? A blessing bestowed by a deity? Something else?"

Wolverine has posed:
"Is that what you are, Elle?" Logan asks, raising his eyebrows to the woman and taking another mouthful of the mead that only elicits a slight wince from him, "A Valkyrie? That make me a chosen warrior?"

Regardless of the real talk going on between them, he's still slightly inebriate and it brings out that attitude in him. His lips curl into a slight smile, facing forward but eyes turned to take measure of the strange woman and her reactions.

"Not magic," he explains, looking where the wound was but is no longer, "And if it's a blessin', nobody told me they were blessin' me. Jus' always had it, far as I know."

Hela has posed:
Elle looks a bit surprised at Logan's sudden question, stunned at his suggestion, before he continues to wonder if she considers herself a Valkyrie. Her befuddlement is overtaken by jovial laughter. "You flatter me, Logan, me? A Valkyrie? A Chooser of The Slain? Some of the best warriors ever to set foot in this world of ours?" She continues to laugh, her visage for once showing glowing mirth, "it's sweet of you to suggest, but no, that is not my lot." Little does she know, that this man has actually met a Valkyrie or two in his time, a true rare feat for modern men.

"You may well be a chosen warrior," Elle grants at least from what she witnessed thus far, "but as for me? I am more what my people used to call an Oracle, one who is sometimes able to communicate and receive from the Norns." Elle says that with a straight face, before further adding, "I came to be called 'Miracle Elle' for fending off the Black Sleep plague...but it was no power of my own, I merely served as a channeler for the gifts of the old gods..." she offers respectfully.

As Logan explains that the 'gift' he displayed is not magic, Elle nods with fascination, "if I had to guess, I would say the likes of Idunn is behind your gift..."

Wolverine has posed:
Logan nods his head slowly as Elle explains her role in the grand cosmic scheme of things. Although he doesn't say it, these are all names he has heard in one form or another. He's read books, despite outward appearances, and even consorted with the likes of the Asgardians from time to time. But he keeps that all under his proverbial hat for the time being.

"That's no small feat," he adds, "Channelin' energies like that. Way I'd figure it, most normal folks'd burn up. Don't know much about magic, I'll admit, but I know if everyone were able t' handle it - more people prob'ly would. So, my guess is that makes you gifted, too. Humble, sure, but gifted all the same."

He takes another mouthful of the mead, leaning an elbow on the bar now and daring to shift a little further back across his stool so the gulf between them is now less so.

"Answer me somethin' else," he asks, nursing the cup still in his other hand, "How much d'they need you guardin' the shop on a night like this? Think y'could slip away?"

Hela has posed:
"That is astute of you, Logan," Elle does concedes the point, "not everyone can be an Oracle, and it takes true faith in the gods to be able to serve them thus." Gesturing with her arms all about, Elle explains, "this entire hall, or 'club' as it were, is designed to revere the old gods, if you'll pay close attention you'll see the Eddas, you'll see their symbols, least of all Mjolnir after which this club is named," she eventually points at the replica of Thor's famed hammer.

"I am of course, aware of this rare honor bestowed on me in return for my faith, and am most grateful for it," Elle confirms as she inclines her head in agreement with Logan's assessment, "you are a very learned man, Logan, I take it this Grail woman has utterly misread you."

When he asks that last question, Elle laughs, amused to no end, though she answers rather seriously. "I trust the place would hold even if I were to slip away, but to what end? Is there something that troubles you that takes consultation with an Oracle?" Elle muses, "or dare I say, you are making a statement of courtship...?" That last bit she asks with an arched brow, taken a bit off guard by the supposed boldness perhaps, if she did understand the question.

Wolverine has posed:
"Why not?" Logan asks when Elle guesses as to the nature of his question. Internally, he can think of a number of reasons about why he probably shouldn't ask. If he'd spent the night sipping bourbon like he'd intended, the buzz he was currently feeling would never have come about. He'd probably have barely said two words to anyone, paid his tab, and wandered out into the night at some grey hour.

But he is drunk. Not sloppily so - it's unlikely he could ever get that far without real dedication; his healing factor would always outrun it - but certainly to the point where he's more open. On top of it, for the first time those fragments of dark memory that always seem to haunt him feel gone. Or lesser. All of that, and the woman who claims to be an Oracle has proved to be about the most interesting person he's spoken to all week.

"Seems like a tidy match t' me," he says with a shrug, finishing the last of the second drink but keeping grip on the glassware for the moment, "Chosen warrior. Chosen seer. I don't figure you find all yer patrons as interestin'."

Hela has posed:
"I will grant that you have a point there, you have certainly perked my curiosity...there is intrigue to be delved into," Elle seems to let Logan's words sway her for the time being, as she turns to Henrik behind the bar and remarks, "you're in charge while I'm gone, I won't stay away long..."

Getting up, she offers her hand to Logan, "we can go have a private conversation in my office, if it'll do," she suggests, apparently quite interested in learning more of this 'Logan' and his mysterious nature.