set in after the Dark World
"Gah! Take it easy would you? I can't afford any more damage to my beautiful face!" cried Fandral as he dodged yet another close swing courtesy of his opponent.
"Hya!" swords swung through the air, clashed, then swung again, "ah yes, what a great misfortune it'd be to lose that pretty face," noted the gallant Sif sarcastically. However, after two more jabs at her challenger, she grudgingly held back, "can either one of you please replace him? I'd really like something interesting for a change, plus I feel slight remorse challenging such an incompetent man."
Across the room sat the remaining two of the Warriors Three, Hogun and Volstagg. "We'd love to," replied the larger one as he stuffed another chicken leg into his mouth, "but you see, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment, and, uh, well Hogun is meditating I assume from what I can see." He gestured to the man across him who sat silently and appeared to be in a trance or at least lost deep in thoughts of his own. He was solemn and gruff and looked as if he were an assassin contemplating his next move at all times. He never said much, but when the time came he was rather useful and skilled with weaponry. Volstagg on the other hand was a jollier, light-hearted fellow who spent most of his time eating; quite an apparent hobby due to his rather stout frame. His curly copper beard fell down to his chest while his curly copper hair followed suit down his back. He was constantly jesting and when he wasn't he was either eating or fighting which he wasn't bad at but nor too revered.
"Fine!" she pivoted and swung down on her opponent once again.
"Hey! Hey! I'm not ready! Warn me when you do that good god woman!" Once again the man swung up his blade only to block the other from destroying him as he cowered lower and lower to the ground. His slim figure and chiseled face were indeed admirable accompanied by his light hair and fair skin. In regards to his fighting skills however he was average at best, yet boasted great lies to seem impressive in the eyes of others; especially women. He was the so-called leader of the three but only because of his ability to seek out trouble and act as if he knew how to deal with it. He was without a doubt though the worst opponent for his challenger, Sif, for she was the goddess of war and nothing nor anyone in Asgard could best her. Her hair was a dark mahogany and about the most feminine thing among her, but she did still encase a unique beauty which entranced men all the same.
The door to the chamber burst open, slapping the air ferociously, it's instigator showing no mercy in his posture as he tramped over the gorgeous granite ground. Leaving a path of rage behind him, the king approached the Warriors Three and Sif, but stopped at a comfortable distance so as to avoid any personal interaction. "You four! I have a job for you," he growled, jabbing his finger in the general direction of the group. "There is an Alfheimian in my kingdom, find her, and bring her to me."
"Okay, wait a second," said Fandral with a bit of cockiness and a snicker, "would you mind explaining further because quite frankly your majesty, I'm not too sure that this is the job for us, me in particular. I'm a very busy man, I have many other pressing matters to attend. You know parties, quests, all tha-"
"You have no choice! I am your king and I command it!" And with that he stabbed the ground with the base of his staff and silence once again fell over the room.
"Wait, is it the same Alfheimian that turned into a daemon for a couple of scrappy garments?"
The king seemed confused, unable to recollect such events. "I'm sorry, Sif?"
"About a year ago there was a light elf in the town, terrorizing the people right after the war. She stole a couple of clothes once you let her go."
The king stood in silence. He now remembered, the young elven woman, dirty and ragged, yet still glowing through all the sadness with the involuntary lightness about her person. She had seemed so desperate and meek, contrary to the damage she created that the king had misleadingly let her go free. "Curse it all!" he muttered under his breath. Pacing back from the middle of the room to the window to the center again he deliberated what to do. She was a light elf; capable of illusions similar to those of the queen that once was. Known to be incredibly stealthy, light elves were thought of as one of the most dangerous of all the races, and their stubbornness, she had already demonstrated that slightly. "Hmmm," he hummed deep in his throat. "She could be anywhere, formed as anyone so be on the look out at all times!"
A chorus of voices responded with a "yes sir".
"Also, they are a light-footed and strong-willed type and will refuse to back down from a fight as it is an ancient law of the species all together to do so, so have your weapons and senses sharpened."
"Yes sir."
"There is one weakness light elves are known to have however…"
"And what is that sir?" inquired Sif.
"They almost never can turn down a good bribe," he coughed slightly like old withering men do and finally said after a moment of silence, "so make it an offer she can't refuse."
"Yes sir," they started off toward the door and their mission, but Odin added one last thing before they left, "also, if on the off chance you are able to capture her alive, make sure to incapacitate her ability to speak and bring her to me."
The warriors shared a glance of confusion amongst each other but nonetheless responded with a hearty "yes sir" once again and exited the room.
The king strode over to the balcony where he over looked the beauty of his kingdom and all that was most indefinitely his and whispered to himself, "a rogue light elf… This is not as glorious a purpose I had expected to be burdened with."
just little teeny intro, it gets more interesting I promise!