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Ivar showed up promptly and on time. He didn't much like being kept waiting around for people and tried to extend the same courtesy to other people. He looked over the man he'd talked to on the network. He looked average, maybe a little painfully so. Well, not everyone could be some extraordinary god/superhero/alien/shapeshifter that ended up here.

He rolled up in the wheelchair, and if that was any cause for pause, it was soon put to rest from the sight of a very large knife that Ivar had in a sheath at his side. Ivar stopped with the hand brake. "So, you're Ash." He pulled a knife out of his vest, a smaller one, but with no less keen an edge as the one by his side. "The quickest and best way to stab someone is holding it in the forward grip." He held the knife up, with the blade edge pointed up and out. "Just make sure you can get it out of the sheath fast enough or it won't be worth anything at all."

Ash stared for a long moment. He just stared. He didn't quite gawk, but he very much stared. This was truly his toughest challenge to his cover thus far.

Don't laugh, don't laugh.

Ash manages a friendly smile and accepts the blade nice and proper-like. "I..hate to bring this up, but you'll still be able to defend me properly, right?" Cos if so, Ivar was going to be his absolute favorite in this place.

Edited 2017-11-16 13:13 (UTC)

Ivar lets Ash stare. He's used to being stared at, though the feeling has lessened since coming to Riverview. It wasn't a very happy thought, but he was used to feeling like everyone judged him from the moment they saw him.

In response to the question, Ivar didn't say a word. He merely took out another knife and threw it in an almost casual manner towards a mailbox that was nearby. There was just a sudden blur of the blade flying through the air. Then, the knife embedded itself up to its hilt in the shallow wood of the post.

Ivar wheels over to the mailbox and yanks the knife out. He looks back at Ash with his strange blue eyes, the sclera as well as the irises a pale blue. "Does that answer your question?"

Ash wished with all his might that he could drop the act and hop onto Ivar's lap after that dazzling display. Simple, quick, and effective. He knows he shouldn't but he smiles big in response and eyes his own knife.

"Why yes, I think it does." Ash's voice got lower rather suddenly, his gaze shifting and flashing something different before taking on that pleasant look once more.

"So let's get to know one another, shall we?" The wide smile lessened somewhat, but seemed to stop at a certain point, leaving the slightest of frozen smiles on his face. He needed to keep up on his muscle relaxers, but knowing he was meeting up with a blade wielding Viking made him feel like he could be a bit...looser today.

There's something in Ash's eyes that makes Ivar think he might have found a kindred spirit here, someone who understands the joy that comes from using knives on his enemies. But it's only there for a moment. Huh. Maybe this boring man isn't nearly so boring as he first thought.

Ivar tilts his head and starts rolling down the street, quick enough to keep up with an average person's walking pace. "My name is Ivar Ragnarsson, Ivar The Boneless to my friends and enemies." The name on the network that he uses makes a lot of sense now. If Ash dares to laugh at his nickname or mention how 'mean' it is, Ivar might have to whack him. He's heard it all before and is tired of it.

Ash takes the nickname in stride, walking alongside Ivar, allowing the Viking to have a slight lead since this was indeed the young man's expedition. This was a new area in a new place, after all. Best to take it all in with a nifty little guide.

"I rather like the name. Almost like a hero." Or a potential right-hand man. "There's someone back on my world named 'Condiment King', so."

Ivar heads towards the edge of the city, where they can get outside the fence, and hopefully run into a few monsters. He's always in the mood for a little bit of carnage, something to get the killing urge out of him instead of trying to bury it away.

"I'm no hero. Just a warrior." Heroes didn't torture people to death and kill at the slightest provocation. Ivar much preferred to be feared than to be loved. He raises his eyebrows at the next piece of information Ash gives him. "You must come from a strange world." He does enjoy hearing about the worlds people come from, always curious as to the similarities and differences to his own.

Ivar didn't know it, but he was saying all of the right things. He was making it hard for Ash to hold on to pretending, and Joker wanted to just hop in his lap, knife wounds be damned. Hell, that just made it all the more tempting for him.

He remains calm, however, offering a nod of acknowledgment. Instead he'll casually test the waters with the young man. So far, so good though. "It's quite strange. Men dress in tights and as creatures." He pauses. "The women dress pretty nice though.

One especially."

If only Ivar knew what this man's true intentions were, he would think of him completely differently. Ivar was so used to people telling him here how bad and wrong it was to think of killing and destruction as he so often wanted to do. Frankly, he was sick of it. If it was so wrong, why did it make him so happy when he did it?

"Why do they dress as creatures? Is it to gain power from them?" That was one of the reason the Viking beserkers did, dressing as wolves and bears while they consumed large quantities of mushrooms before they rushed off into battle. There was a reason they were considered the craziest and most feared of the Viking warriors. "And where do you fit into your world?"

"You would think so. For some of them, maybe it does. There are certainly plenty of weirdos out there." Ash almost paused once he gave Ivar's last question some thought. He would go with purposefully vague, for now.

"Where do I fit? You'll find out soon enough. Everyone will."

"The beserkers at home dress as predators when they go into battle. They say it gives them strength. Then again, they also take copious amounts of mushrooms, so who can say what does the trick?" Ivar himself simply relied on his own fury to supply him with strength for the battles he went into.

Ash's words make Ivar give him a side-long glance. Just what does he mean by that? He files that away for later. Despite being a Viking, and therefore seen as being a bit of a brute, Ivar is very clever. He works things out. But his attention is focused as they come to the edge of the fence. "Once we get out there, just remember to stab for the open areas. Eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. It won't kill whatever's attacking, but it might hurt them long enough to get in a blow that actually will take them down for good."

That would only please Joker all the more. He was terribly used to working and dealing with absolute morons. Ash plays the part of paying attention, but Ivar will notice that Ash is holding it in a completely different way than what he was shown before.

Not in a bad way, either. Like he already knew. Already killed before, he just had a different kind of prey today. "Seems a bit cruel." Ash says out loud, turning to Ivar and giving him a wink. He may not be letting him in on the joke all the way, but he'd toss him enough to know he may be in better company than he previously thought.

"Monsters don't tend to care about being nice. They just try to kill you without pity." A description that could very much describe Ivar himself. He takes note of the way Ash is now holding his knife. It seems like he's done this before. Hmmm, very interesting. He'll have to see just where this leads.

They go beyond the fence and into the forest. Close to the city, there's nothing but some harmless herbivores that stray close to the fence in search of food. To find the really dangerous beasts, they'll need to go a little further in.

Joker as well, Ivar..Joker as well. Speaking of the two of them, Ash was really going to need to teach Ivar a thing or two about sarcasm and/or teasing. "Dog eat dog world and all that jazz." Ash replied, tone light and pleasant. It seemed like the closer the pair got to their destination and reason for coming out here, the more this man 'Ash' loosened up.

Why, he was even smiling to himself. "Could get some good huntin outta these--if that's your thing." Ash was of course referencing the friendly herbivores they passed along the way.

Ivar noticed how the man seemed to relax the further they went out. It seemed perhaps that Ivar had misjudged how boring he was going to be at the start. Maybe they'd get some fun in after all.

They were getting more into the territory of the predatory monsters that plagued the city. Ivar could feel eyes watching them from all around the treeline. "Have you done much hunting before?"

"Not at all." Which was a fairly honest answer. He did more stalking than outright hunting. He liked to leave that up to the professionals--hence why he was with the wheelchair bound maniac Viking, Ivar. There was just something so likeable about the young man.

It was probably his apparent bloodlust. That sort of thing was harder to come by than one might think.

"That's a shame. There's something to be said for the experience of taking down prey much bigger than yourself." That was basically what Ivar's whole life was about. He was eternally the underdog in whatever struggle he got into.

Pretty soon, Ivar heard rustles in the bush ahead, signaling there was a creature there. He went forward slower now, peering around the trees. There was a creature there, chewing on the body of another with an oversized jaw full of sharp teeth. It hadn't yet noticed that it had company.

If a weasel was crossed with an eel, it might resemble this creature. It had a lithe, shiny body, black and hairless with no visible tail or ears, about the size of a alpaca or llama. It alternated between moving fast with its clawed feet and seeming to slither on its belly.

"Looks like this one will be fun," Ivar said, a sharp grin coming over his features. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Ash replied, watching the weaseel (oho, he named it already!) giving itself a quick little roll on the ground. The creature seemed like a slippery little bastard.

"Think any of em would make a good pet?" He asked softly, watching it intently and waiting for Ivar's signal.

"Maybe. But where would you keep it?" It turned and gnawed on the bone of a leg already efficiently stripped with meat. It certainly didn't seem like a very friendly creature. That was alright with Ivar. A bad temper just met it would make for an interesting fight.

He waited until the creature seemed to have eaten its fill. A full belly would make it a little bit slower, a good advantage considering the weaseel seemed to rely on speed. "Alright, now!"

Ash grinned and slipped off to the side, making sure to keep from Ivar as he did something quite unexpected: he got the creature's attention. "So a duck, a rat, and a rabbi are playing pool..." He says what sounds like the beginning of a joke and gains the attention of the weaseel.

A weaseel that isn't paying one bit of mind to the badass Viking in the wheelchair.

The weaseel turned its attention towards this new person, growling softly to try and dissuade the threat. It stood possessively over its kill, claws splayed outwards as it dug into the dirt.

Ivar creeps forward as far as he dares to with his wheelchair. When he gets close enough, he leaves the chair behind, switching to crawling on the ground up behind the weaseel. He's close now, almost close enough that he could touch its back leg if he wanted to. He slides the blade forward and makes his move, slashing at the tendons of the creature's back leg.

It howls in pain and swiftly turns around to face this other threat. Its beady eyes look murderous as it tries to figure out which is the bigger threat.

It's a trick question, of course--Ivar and ~~Joker~~ Ash are both big threats. One did of course have use of his legs, so Ash was probably the actual threat, but it doesn't much matter. The weaseel's life is forfeit as Joker takes advantage of it looking Ivar's way.

"Giddyup!" With a shout Joker pounces, slamming his knife into the neck of the weaseel. It squeals as Joker laughs and mocks the sounds it makes as the creature begins to thrash in an attempt to be rid of the knife lodged through it. With it pinned to the ground, the man known to Ivar as Ash has a slip of the mask further and thrashes about on the ground beside the creature, still laughing and mocking the smaller beast.

The weaseel has been landed a serious wound, but with the possibility death comes a furious last burst of energy. It lashes out blindly with its claws, hoping to hit one of the two men. It comes dangerously close to getting Ivar in the eye, but he ducks just in time.

Its growls turning into pants, the weaseel's thrashing becomes slower and slower. The beady eyes of the creature focus on Ash. It seems to sense the man no longer has a weapon. Slipping over the ground, it makes a beeline for him. Ivar sees what it is trying to do, so he intercepts the creature. Ducking the snapping jaws, he slashes its throat. It sprays him with blood, something that the Viking seems to relish. What a pair these two make, surrounded by death and violence.

Ash seems to not much care about the creature now, confident in Ivar's ability to back him up. He's proven correct as the beast is finished, Joker rolling onto his side and popping up onto his feet.

"Yup! Gonna have to see about raising one of those. What to call it..." Ash ponders this mostly to himself, though he does give Ivar a side glance. The look on his face isn't one of judgment or pity for him laying on the ground, but full-on expectancy.

"So! What's next?"

Ivar wipes some of the blood off his cheek, licking it off of his fingertips. He considers the question. Frankly, his estimation of Ash has gone way up, and he's rather glad the man sees him as an equal instead of some object of pity.

"We can find something else that's more of a challenge. Or we can skin this beast and take back its hide as a souvenir." Ivar liked to do that with his most memorable kills. He had an enormous black fur hide that served him as a blanket for his bed.

Ash paused for a moment, tapping a finger to his chin. That did sound pretty Viking-y. Ah, what the Hell? He hadn't cut skin off of anything in awhile!

"I say we skin em!" Ash got a wild look in his eyes and fetched his own knife, coming to slide on the other side of the weaseel carcass. "Ah, I almost forgot: you're seeing some sides of me that you shouldn't because I like you, Ivar. We got some things in common, you and I." Oh, Ivar was an object to an extent--not unlike Croc but smaller, and not gradually turning into a reptile.

Ivar seemed a bit smarter than Croc too. Point was, "Ash" liked Croc back home, and he may not win a sprint anytime soon, but Ivar felt useful..and at the very least, a partner in chaos.

Edited 2017-12-18 14:35 (UTC)

Ivar started off at the front paws, skinning around the clawed digits and going up the legs. The hide, while appearing slick, actually has more the texture of already tanned leather. He wiped a hand across his face as he finished up the left leg, smearing the blood all over his face more, not that he cared.

"Seems like some of the people here tend to judge people like you and me." Much as he liked his friends in the city, there was very few people who understood the bloodthirsty side of the Viking. This man seemed to. Beneath that respectable facade was someone just as drawn to blood and violence as the Viking was. "Why hide yourself away?"

"Oh!" Ash rolled onto his belly on the other side of the weaseel carcass, watching with interest the way this darling Viking boy went about his work.

"That's an easy answer m'boy: it's more fun this way. You see, there are some people here from back home, and if they knew I was here--hoo!--they would not be very happy. You might even say they'd get--" Ash's gaze shifted from the carcass to Ivar's blood covered face.

"--anxious."

Ivar started in on the right leg, following the same pattern upwards. He nodded as Ash spoke. He could understand that well enough. Sometimes, it was best not to show your true colors right away. It was best to wait for the opportune moment.

"Your secret is safe with me." Ivar wasn't going to be the one to spoil the Joker's fun.

"Oh I know, Ivar. I know. Call it a gut feeling I had about you." This was just what Joker needed really; to get a little something out of his system to keep him satisfied. It wasn't always difficult for him, however--Joker was pretty good when he was actually focused.

"I think you'll be the best friend a guy could ever have here." Aside from Batman..who isn't in the city anywhere, apparently. Disappointing, but something that could be adjusted.

Ivar grinned at Joker's words, rather pleased by them. Here was someone who understood that while Ivar was a cripple, he wasn't necessarily helpless or to be pitied. He was a warrior first and foremost. He'd gotten most of the skin off the weaseel now. "Almost there."

He continued on in silence until the entire skin had come off the carcass. It felt rather unusual, like leather that had already been tanned. Ivar wondered if he should use the same methods to cure and tan it like he would any other hide. "There we go. This'll be a nice little souvenir."

"The Best." Ash replied, moving into an upright and seated position. He tucked his legs in an Indian Style type of way and regarded Ivar with manic glee.

"Poor thing. It never had a chance!" He laughs suddenly rocking to and fro slightly as he does so.

"A shame we didn't run into one the size of a hill. There's this big beast with fur like grass that looks just like one when it lies down." The last time Ivar had gone up against one like that, he had to have some undead helpers to finish it off.

Alright. It was time to head back. Ivar went back over to his wheelchair and got in.

Joker looks to the skinned carcass of the weasel and picks it up. "Now what to do with you..." He muses aloud as he begins to walk. With it dead he gets to have a much closer, thorough look at it and it's...everything.

The creature's beady little eyes were wide open. It never closed them. They stayed open, kept that fierce look in them. "You should help me trap one of these." Joker said rather suddenly, cradling the dead weaseel in his arms.

"Now that'll be a challenge." From the way Ivar says it, though, he's clear he's already accepted it. He cocks his head at Ash in a curious manner. If he wasn't already the man was probably as nuts as he was, he'd find the handling of the weaseel a lot creepier.

"So what do you plan on doing with one of these anyway, hmm? Turning it into a guard dog?"

"The best kind of challenge! Could just steal a baby. Don't think I've done that one before." As far as he could recollect, anyway. Maybe a human baby, but not an animal baby...maybe.

"Guard dog?" Ash's voice pitched a little higher in amusement. "No, dear Ivar--attack dog. Small, lithe, slippery, and dangerous. Something like us."

Ash gets a grin out of Ivar at the comparison of a weaseel to themselves.

"If you want to steal one, we'll need better supplies than what we have now." Ivar had come out with the intent to kill, not trap. But there was always tomorrow if they decided to come back and steal a baby weaseel.