An Interview with Lady Sif

August 01, 2018:

Catching up in mystical troubles Doctor Strange goes to the Watchtower to talk with Sif

Environmental Room - Watchtower:JL - The Final Frontier

This layer is fashioned after a Northwestern United States mountain
landscape. A combination of complex pumps, artificial and natural sunlight,
special ventilation systems and ultraviolent shielding that is timed through
intervals allows for a complete stimulated biosphere. There is a shallow
lake (14ft max depth), a waterfall off of a low hillside and sevearl
The atmosphere even maintains seasonal breezes, rainfall and
changes up to and including snow. The ceilings are 45 feet in height and the
deck's woodland sector runs 270 feet in diameter. Any animals are
holographic or limited program robots.
There are small pods attached to the scenic central environment
that act as habitation zones for extinct or alien creatures that are
generally harmless. Each of these habitats has its own unique sustaining
biosphere. Generally the League only keeps creatures with no home left to go
in these enclosures.


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Thor

Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

The Watchtower is one of the best features of being in the Justice League. Sadly Doctor Strange rarely has a good excuse to come up here, since most of his investigation and research requires mystically attuned environments, not super computers and orbital facilities.

But today he has a couple good reasons to 'beam up' from the Hall of Justice. First he wants some astrophysical data about last March eclipse and the comet verified. Second, he wants to talk with a certain guest that mysteriously appeared in the place of an Asgardian enchantress acquaintance of his. So after a somewhat tense talk with the technicians in charge of astronomical sensors, and an e-mail to Tony Stark, he heads for the guest quarters where a dark haired goddess has been invited to stay.

Sif is not in her "teensy" domicile that the League had granted her for a place of rest. The woman has found a space that appears more like home, even if every True Sense let's her know it is false.

The mountains stretch in the backdrop, along pastures in rolling knolls are beasts that could appear like typical 4H, but up close, there is a vast difference in their physiology.

Just like Sif… For now.

The walk through the landscape is slow, every step paced with every heartbeat, but once one track is found, the Lady Sif draws a hand back and her spear drops into her palm. Posture is nearly a hunt, but the place… It is safe…

Her body crouches, fingers pressed into a small concave of dirt that appears like a weaved path into brush, but she can stand within it!

The high grasses whisper as a breeze brings the tall wild to bend and bow around her features, golden stalks and green meshing with darker auburn braids laced with a mesh of golden hue along her jaw.

What is she seeking, here?

The environmental room, they said.

So Strange wanders into one of the places in the space station he had never seen before. "By the Seven Spheres," he mutters, for a few seconds caught into the illusions. But no… those creatures are not real, they lack life and spirit. They can deceive the eyes, but not Strange less normal senses. There is only one person alive in the room besides himself, and she is hardly the human woman she seems to be.

"Greetings," he offers, looking at Sif. The doctor is wearing one of his fashionable but mundane suits, this one tan in tone. But as usual when around the League, the Eye of Agamotto hangs from a golden chain around his neck, plainly visible.

Sif basked in this room, it was the closest to…

A shadow veils above her and a massive serpent rises, beside either crest of it's bowed neck skin fans out and expands like an opened umbrella. Akin to the recent Tat Ta Lizards, but definitely far more massive.

"Nidho…" There is a silence and moment in the shadow and Sif crosses vembraced forearm across her chest in a warriors pound, but….

In the Environmental pod is an alien serpent from a distant Sector, safely kept as it is the last known of its species, looking like a mix between a small leopard geko and a cobra. Sif could have held him in her palms, but the setting sun cast a shadow…
..and a shadow crept from the corner of Sif's mind. The greet of Strange breaks her from the reverie imaginarium and she is rising abruptly, spinning to face the man with those arctic colored eyes, cold and sharp along with the stance of the warrioress she is..?

Something is amiss between the Stranger and the Alien. Evident.

"I have seen you, but never met." Sif Lofts her chin, regaining and holsters her spear from the skittering POD-ified lizard, narrowing her eyes at the small critter before focusing fully on Strange. "Lady Sif, of Asgard." And with her steps her hand extends to accept his in greeting.

Strange takes the offered hand, and Sif might notice his hand is badly scarred, almost deformed. "Doctor Strange, sorcerer, from New York," he replies pleasantly. "I am one of the League members and I should have come before, but the mystical world is currently in upheaval, I find myself I have to run from a corner of the world to another all too often."

He looks at the displays and sighs. "I had not even seen this room. And I have been in the League nearly three years. Then again, it might be new, I rarely have a chance to come to the Watchtower." He looks back at the dark-haired woman. "But I am babbling. I apologize. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if I might."

Sif notes the scarred hand, perhaps the deformity, but it does not stop her from taking it and accepting his position that she was already shown by Hal.
"This is our Justice League. We are Friends."

She accepts *that* hand into her own, bearing its own weathered callouses, scarred knuckles, and what rises from the grip aloine is a tic-tac-toe of battle laden figure clad in hide, leather, and Uru reinforcement. Sif truly looks foreign, and as Strange speaks her eyes dart across his features, his posture, and then fully… *him*. As if reading more than words he speaks she does not understand.

The Warrioress' hand leaves his slowly, ,her jaw tensing in closure to not reciprocate how she has been in corners and also trying to be free of them! "I like it here."

The Room? The League? Undefined as Sif finally takes one step back and nods to Strange. "I respect your position, as you have earned it." A glance to his hands and then towards the smaller pod bearing the "Nid-zard!"

"I prefer this room over tiny cement prisons they call bed-rooms." An inhale. "I am almost home."

The questions he presents towards her, though, stop the small reverie and have her watching him cautiously. "Be. Very. Careful." Every breath she seems to take to steele her reserve is a warning to the man, even with respect given.

"Ask, Strange Doctor of the Between."

"They are small, indeed," agrees Strange. But then again, "and they are only for emergency use, since there are teleporters to the Hall of Justice in Metropolis for quick travel." He offers Sif to sit down with a gesture, and should she accept he looks for a good place to settle himself. "Speaking of the Hall. A powerful Asgardian creature shattered my wards at the building the day you appeared there. I would like to know about the master of this creature, as he could be aligned with the enemies of the League, including the sorceress Circe, daughter of Hyperion."

Sif remains standing, for far longer than the gesture Strange proferred.

Something about Strange's words and that time has Sif's gaze distancing, although pupils dialate and her fist clenches just over the exposed hip, between reinforced strips of hide and fur, latched to slender waist by sinew. A criss-cross pattern clings to curvature, but beneath there is woading in hue, a faded deep blue that has come to wind its way up her side, over her chest upon the same side, and down one arm.

Nostrils flare as muscles flux, flex, and tremble beneath the pressure of the clutched grip that buries her short nails into her palm. "… Tis not Circe." Like a side-reel she is reviewing her past that she was not there for, yet she slept through and experienced it as a waking dream!

A wrist wrapped in a gauntleted encasement of leather and fur lining is risen in time to sweep over a cheekbone. Tiny braids, laden in beads clatter while Sif shakes her head and pushes the pommel of the axe to align with her spine instead of protrude to the side.

"Tis not just a creature. He l.ived… Once."

A look around and her voice carries! "I would love some Midgardian Swill right about now!"

In that case the doctor will remain standing too. If he is surprised by Sif's emotional display he hides it well. "Lived once? Was he an undead now?" He asks calmly. Although since she is convince it is not Circe… but no, he wants to know who crushed his wards. They were flimsy compared with the ones in his Sanctum, but it still stings some they were so easily shattered.

"I can, at least, grant your wish," he adds. The New York is far away, so it does take him a few seconds to gather the mystical energy for the conjuration, but it is his place of power, and summoning a bottle of aged wine and two glass cups is not a major feat for the sorcerer.

"Please, explain to me, I was not there that day," he requests politely while serving Sif the liquor.

He can hide exactly what Sif was hiding. A pointed word could be seen as a challenge to the Warrioress -

It would be seen as a challenge, and Sif has already taken her seat before the Good Doctor Strange, barking out her order even if it went to empty ears and… Circuits.

"No, but the Kurse is…." Fingertips drag through the fur lining of attire as her seated position reclines and then stiffens with recollection (though not her own)!

Again those eyes shifted, pupils dialating, retracting into pindots as they snap towards Strange and slowly return… "Kursed.. The one words is said like a /hiss/ towards Strange, even in his niceties her confused mind, her path, that emptiness left behind… A Well inside her even as she naturally moves forward like the Warrior she is renown for is Asgard!

One of Three.

As the wine appears, Sif stares at the empty goblet and the cask, slowly standing, still staring at the cask of the Midgardian SwillWine.

The Gift for an Exchange?

"Nor was I…" A lingering end and Sif leans forward to grip the bottle and tae it with her! She did not lie, nor negate the Supreme of his information, so they are even.

The smelt metal keep over the cork is plucked and peeled away in a spiral, flicked aside as she turns to walk away, a small dagger bitten from beneath her hide-gauntlet to stab into the cork and draw it out with a snap-motion POP!.

"Give me time…" Beat. "Please…" The final word stated as if a demand and yet whispered like a question as it drew out over her lips.

"Yes, of course," murmurs Strange. She says she wasn't there, but she appeared here. In the place of the blonde Enchantress, or so it seemed. Strange read the report of the witnesses, and still feels confused. The shattering of the wards made his postcognition spells blurry, imprecise. He could maybe align the mystic currents, but it would take time he doesn't have right now.

He can give her time, but not days. Soon the League must depart to chase after the artifact of the Elder Gods used to ensnare Atum. And Strange himself needs to find Lilith, and gather a band of capable mystic warriors to defeat her Lilim.

"I apologize if I am causing you any distress," he adds cautiously. "But I am dealing with a puzzle of great complexity. So many enemies, old and new are moving against Earth and perhaps the whole Nine Worlds at once. It is difficult to discern how many are working allied and which ones are just vultures looking for an opportunity to advance petty plots."

"He… The Kurse is strictly an Agardian matter…" For now…. Unspoken final words from Sif have her resting her hand upon the pommel of the axe.

The motion is visible to Strange this time, though, as her back is turned to him, and the pommel of a 'Staff' slowly reveals to bare a massive dual bladed axe head, laced up the shaft with hide crossings, but the Business End of the weapon spans wider than the tall Asgardian woman's shoulders.


Her chin drops momentarily, a second, a heartbeat. But then when it rises those long brunette tendrils of braids mingled with the waves of honey and wheat descend over the massive blade, some easily cut from their place upon the draw over the bladed edges. The cork that was pulled from the tiny dagger by teeth is spit across the grassy knoll between herself and Strange before Sif turns his way and lifts the bottle he had gifted to her lips.

After the initiating draw she settles back into her Earthen seat an added distance from strange and hold the bottle out towards him - goblets be Damned! As JLA, they are brethren already, right?

"We both have puzzles. Yours first." Sif states towards Strange with a waning smile. "Mine has time." As time heals most wounds.


"I… very well," accepts Strange, vanishing the goblets back to a cabinet thousands of miles away. "It is a long story, so I will try to summarize." He draws breath.

"Last match, as the winter died, a comet passed near the sun. Portents were bleak, so I was on watch. And indeed, as the comet reached the aphelion, a door shattered, and ancient god-demon Lilith, Mother of Demons, was unreleased upon the Earth." That is how started for him, yet he has to wonder how long has been Circe weaving spells and plots.

"I fought Lilith, along a few allies, but she fled. And when I was giving chase I realized something even worse had happened. The Sun God Atum, oldest of the children of Jord, Earth Itself, had vanished from the heart of the sun. Atum was and is the greatest enemy of the Elder Gods, and one of the mightiest beings in the Nine Realms. But although he is powerful beyond measure, he rarely involves himself in the plots of the younger gods. His enemies are not of the Realms, Lady Sif. They were exiled long before Ymir broke free from the Eternal Ice. And so to have a deterrent against their dreaded return the Justice League most find that 'comet' or whatever it was and somehow liberate Atum. And we must also find Lilith and either destroy or imprison her again."

A brief pause, because there is more. "At the same time Circe, immortal sorceress and child of the Titan Hyperion, has become active again. His plots baffle me, as she freed the Krampus, Hel's child, in the deepest of Winter, killing dozens of humans in Metropolis in a grisly sacrifice. And then turned against an Amazon colony in the desert of the Middle-Earth, allied with a group of high-technology warriors masquerading themselves as Valkyries. The League prevailed against her and her allies, but the witch eluded us again. She has, no doubt, a dark plan that will bring ruin upon the world."

"Oh." Sif listens completely and her features seem unreadable, blank in expression as she shares the drink with Doctor Strange, and once he finishes the long end of the short summary Sif speaks further.

"Is that all?" Is she joking? Hard to tell, if at all as legs stretch out before her and cross at the ankles, rocking back at the seated placement of hips to prop up by the brace of hands behind her.

"Falsely portraying a Valkyrie is no small offense, but then again, Circe is not one to move forward and be petty about her squabble. You are right," The pause comes as a piece of the grass beside her is plucked up and spun between fingertips.

"There is more, there always is where they are concerned." They being witches, the maligned side of the mystical realms.

"I have sworn allegiance to your League, as they freed me and have kept me despite," A waffling hand gesture. "So what may I do to aid in your up coming war with Titans?"

"Ah, Thor did take some offense. Those false Valkyries took a beating for it," comments Strange with a faint smile. "Alas, the enemy are not the Titans of Greek myth, despite Circe's ancestry. To be honest I am not sure who they are. Lilith and Circe stand revealed. But Lilith alone would not be able to neutralize Atum. Now, some of the most powerful members of the League and going to find and hunt down that 'comet'. Thor and Iron Man are investigating and will provide transportation. You could join them, as I expect they will be facing some very powerful opposition. But I am staying behind to track down Lilith, and I will need help to deal with her and her Lilin army."

Strange looks serious again, and paces briefly on the enviromental room floor, studying the displays thoughtfully. "And as I mentioned before one of the pieces of the puzzle I can't figure out is the attack on the Hall. Kurse."

Sif's face finally bears an expression, one of terse chagrin at Strange almost volunteering her to go with *Thor* and this Iron Man. Lips part to protest, so give the woman credit for remaining mute until Strange finishes once again. "I will help you, then." Deal. Set. Accord.

The blade of tall grass is spun and flicked aside then when the exchange of the bottle is had between them once again, this time a long draw of that wine is taken, but still leaves Sif unphased. What strikes her is his final unasked question about Kurse, that bottle left set upon the ground between them. "I do not remember everything, and pieces… are like dreams, but I remember the sensations, I still bare marks of times…" And she still has the axe, Sigrnr, which only the pommel is visible until contact is made. An unfinished binding perhaps.

"Witches," A sniffed chortle of half-amused words and her shoulders roll back to straighten her spine. "Always a problem."

Thor, Iron Man, Wonder Woman and Troia, perhaps others. Strange is wary to send a mortal, Tony Stark, with the immortals of the League, but he also hopes his technological savvy could carry the day where magic would be easily thwarted. Lilith knows magic, but modern technology? Maybe not.

But no, in truth he doesn't decide the teams. Diana would, he can only advise. "Your presence will be welcome in either task force, of course," he assures her.

What had brought him to the Watchtower, however, was the search for knowledge, not to keep Sif up to date of the current mystical problems of Migard. He should perhaps seek Amora the Enchantress.

But witches: always a problem (unless they are at your side).

"I suppose I should return to the Hall and…" he sighs, "write a report. Most of the League members know too little about the supernatural history of Earth. And right now we can't afford confusion or errors."

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