malekiththeaccursed-blog

[malekiththeaccursed-blog]

     I do enjoy periodically seeing what Midgard is up to.           Anything dramatic happen lately?

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Why do you look like Ronan the Accuser?

     Are you saying all blue people look the same?          You should be ashamed of yourself.

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     Weather services?

How interesting.

Well, that certainly makes our work easier, doesn’t it?  I’ve recently launched several Roxxon meteorological satellites and keeping his storms out of the way will do wonders for our weather services.

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     Any chance to knock a stubborn Asgardian down is a good one.           It’s fine, he can’t even lift his own hammer anymore.                I would call that a win~

Oh, you’re proud of that one, huh?  Left a pretty nasty mess, I heard.

But I heard you didn’t keep him down for long.

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    I am an Elven king, do you need much more than that?          Though perhaps it helps that I crippled the Odinson in public.

I’ll pay someone else to be creative for me.  Don’t have the time.

But, if I might be so bold as to ask, what the fresh hell are you?  And how’d you get an invite to this?

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     Lasta lalaithamin...             You’re going to have the be more creative than that.

You’re shitting me.  Smurfs are real?

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     !!!~

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     What in all the nine realms is going on down there?

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In which Thor kills Malekith’s epic giant flying tiger and he’s really upset about it.

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     There was an artifact he needed, he knew it ended up on Midgard he simply didn’t know where. Everything was pointing to it being in this city, which was the only reason he’d stuck around for so long. He needed it for his plans to get anywhere, it was a matter of keeping out of Odin’s sights for the time being. He would deal with that issue later. 

     It was funny how many mortals simply walked by him without a care in the world. Many stared at him funny but continued about their business anyway and some avoided him, but he was rarely given trouble. Perhaps his imposing height had something to do with it.

     The area was fairly quiet where he was at the time. But something, and he wasn’t sure what exactly it was. Something around him felt different. Eyes narrowed as they scanned his surroundings trying to figure out what felt so off to him.

     It was then a very sudden feeling of danger rang through him and without much thought to the action he lurched his upper body forward to duck with his feet still planted firmly on the ground. He could feel the air around him shift as the shot just narrowly missed him.

     He spun around, long white hair flying with the sudden movements. His lip curled into a snarl as he squinted in the direction the shot had come from. It was not a weapon used by Asgardia, no. This was someone local...

                    Who would dare?

The Great Hunt || Kraven & Malekith

             All had been arranged.

     At last, he was ready to make his move. Months of meticulous planning, of research and study had led him to this moment. This was where the hunt truly began. It was this moment he lived for, not the triumph at the end; or the trophy on display as so many pretenders preened and glorified. No, those who knew the true calling of the hunt knew this moment to be the essence of it all.

           The moment where all plans and tools had been gathered. Strategy reckoned with. Resources acquired. And there were many resources he had acquired over the last months. He had been astute to take the beheaded elf’s body away from the scene of the massacre before New York’s police had arrived to take ownership of all at the scene. Her blood was critical to the methods he had in mind. A dark and potent magic, one that would surely match that wielded by the elven spellcaster from that distant land beyond their stars.

                  Svartalfheim.

     That is what the legends of the Norsemen had detailed of his kind. ‘Dark elves’. A curious notion, so fantastical they seemed hardly different from beasts to his eye. Their behaviour merely cemented the fact. But, they say that an elf is an elf. Not the sort of Tolkien’s pen, but rather of the older folklores of Germanic Europe. Iron was said to burn their skin as acid would a human’s. How pitiful, he had thought. That creatures who carry themselves with such might would be felled by a material so common in their dirt. He had checked and cross-checked. The accounts had rung true. So then, the blood of a vengeful victim. Iron-wrought weaponry from his stocks.

              And his dear Calypso.

         For the elf, oh had he the ability to run from him. To teleport. All had seen it on the television that day. And that, that perhaps had been Kraven’s greatest cocern. That he would not be able to pursue his quarry to its untimely end. That it would slip away into the nether as it was prone to do, where he could not follow. There was also, perhaps, a secondary thought for civilian involvement and casuality– regardless of the matter, it was for this reason he had contacted his talented sorceress of a lover and convened with her on a potential support. To ensure their prey was ensnared most completely within their grasp. She would close off their area, close off his means of spacial distortion escape– and the rest would be left to the great Hunter himself.     

           It had not taken too long to locate him. His trail was so distinctive, so removed from anything he had ever tracked before; not of this world. So he finds him, somewhere not entirely removed from the public eye. Good. He would like the world to see this. Multiple worlds, if he would have it.

                    He sees the elf beyond the shadows of the shuttered window he currently cloaks himself within, loading a dart gun in complete silence. To start with, a curious test of the creature’s reflexes… This was an invaluable piece of study he would only be able to conduct now, at the start of their little game…

                    He takes the rifle to his shoulder, positions the barrel between the slight gap between the window and its sill. Takes aim for the beast’s throat, and breathes in slowly.

                                                          Fires.

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Daddy knows you crippled his stupid son now, that should be fun

     Good.          He should know I’m here, and I wont go quietly.

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🎶 Somebody's in trouble.🎶

     I will rip that tongue from your mouth.

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     No-- !!

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Top 10 Villains

@randomjunkbloguniverse @misterjjjcomics

2 Malekith the Accursed from Thor

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     It could mean a lot of things my dear.

 [ Darcy freezes. ]

            Tree trimming.

                Like… the annoying pine in your front yard? Or.. trees of the Yggdrasil nature? 

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     I know, I look fabulous for my age.           Especially because I was thrown in a cell for a good thousand or so years...

What? Dude, you gotta be like five-thousand years old or somethin’. That’s incredible! I mean, I’m pretty sure I’d get bored living that long, but man that’s sick!

… which means cool, by the way.