video;

[subecho]

[ Oh look, it's the not-'Asgardian'!Asgardian! And he holds his hand up, palm outward in silent greetings. ]

Friends, newcomers - [ ...and Malekith... ] - well met. I shall keep brief: we have faced war. And we have had our dead and our wounded to show for the victory.

[ And now, he turns slightly more somber. ]

I do not ask whether you fight for this land or its people, for your pleasure or your lives alone. Whatever your reasons, we do not die here. In this, I think, we all agree. Yet...

[ He has the grace to look sheepish. ]

...apologies, but many of you walk as if targets. You know nothing of battle, and the gifts given to you in this land do not serve. The meager war crafts would be of help to you: shield bearing, the handling of sword and hammer. I do not speak of great ability, but enough that you can bide yourselves the time to run.

[ Firmer, now. ]

So: those who wish to learn, give say of what weapon might suit you. Those who know of battle and wish to teach it, name your skill and offer service. And those who once held sorcery alike to the one gained here, volunteer counsel of how to improve it.

For my part, I wield the hammer. I lack in patience, but do not scold unfairly. What knowledge I have is yours to take.

[ Is the part where he riles half of Asgard done with? OH THANK EVERYTHING, time to offend the other half. ]

Past every man's care, we can seek to defend the city. Who here runs inventory? Have we cannons? Rams? Horses? If anyone wishes to learn, or organize legions - you have my aid in this. There lies opportunity. Another is with our fellows, the grey ones. A frail-bearded man wrote that we do not give them thought or time. Perhaps he is wise, and there is more to be done in alliance.

[ And then he stares at the camera for a long moment of rather stupid blinking, before dissolving into laughter, because - ]

That... was not brief.


[ ooc: woah, tl;dr. iiif you'd like to get involved, just have your character volunteer to teach their faito skills, and I'll have Thor send some/all of the characters who want to pick up said skills their way o/ . ]

Comments

[theaccursed]

[Your own people - the first implication Malekith let slide as pure insult, but to receive a second... It incites the start of a sneer upon his lips.]

Do not mistake this for minding, son of Asgard. You would do well to listen when I speak, for I speak truth. These are a doomed people, and you would give them false hope. Still, can you manage it, I wonder? To carry the lives of so many upon your shoulders?

They are not worth the effort.

[subecho]

What is my futile work to you? You fear I shall want for time to pity you?

You seek to teach me? You?

[theaccursed]

[His sneer melts away, and Malekith meets Thor with a rigid placidity. Let him mock, Malekith can be the rocks unbreaking against the storm of Thor.]

You will listen to me, because I urge you, succeed. Fill your pupils with the vigor of Asgard, though you know they will never strike as hard nor face battle as fiercely. I will relish watching your newborn forces torn to pieces.

[And the best part, as evidenced by the tone Malekith uses? In his view, he won't even have to be the one doing the slaughtering.]

[subecho]

Listen to me, Malekith: I shall keep them alive and well and past harm's way for their own sake.

But I shall take also what joy is given to me from proving you wrong.

[theaccursed]

[Is he always this optimistic, or is it just for Malekith? A frustrating trait, regardless-]

Find your victories where you will, Asgardian, for they are limited in number.

[subecho]

Is this all that brings you joy? Hoping for my failure?

[theaccursed]

It is your birthright. Your blood alone makes you deserving of my ire, and it is through my anger that you will feel the ancient rage of the Svartalfar. They died so that I might save them. This is the least I owe my people.

[subecho]

You owe them silence and mourning and a wiser mind: who ruled them to ruin, Malekith? Was it me? Was it my people?

[theaccursed]

Do not speak to me of what I owe, Asgardian. What experience do you pull from to even consider that you know what belongs to the Svartalfar? You insult me with such insinuation, boy.

[subecho]

Your loss is but memory. Mine is recent wound, fresh and raw. Do not presume to think I have no right.

[theaccursed]

[But memory... The notion that Malekith fights for something of memory churns his gut.]

I will only accept the gravity of your losses when you have seen the majority of your forces felled, when you have no safe refuge to return to. When you manage to defy time so that you can best the very universe that would see you dead-

And what would you have? The death of two - a witch and a trickster. There is no comparison to be made.

[subecho]

A mother and a brother.

[theaccursed]

[Should that elicit sympathy from Malekith? The emotion he undoubtedly lacks the most of... There's no change in his expression of loathing.]

Worthless.

[subecho]

I pity you, Malekith. I pity that I cannot tell whether you are truly so blind to all that man is meant to hold dear.

[theaccursed]

There lies your first mistake, Asgardian. There is nothing man would hold dear that I would find worth in. Take your sentimentality, I will have none of it.

[And that's just it - there's too far a culture divide between them. The elves are too old, too rigid, and Malekith is too extreme to see life any differently.]

[subecho]

You think yourself Loki?

[theaccursed]

That cur? That would imply I think myself lower than dirt.

[subecho]

Mind tongue before it is ripped.

[theaccursed]

Your threats only affect the scared.

[subecho]

See to it that they do not soon affect the scarred.

[theaccursed]

[There's a sneer from Malekith before his abrupt disconnection from the broadcast. As if he'll stand to be the butt of mockery.

Good luck with your futile endeavors, Thor.]