10856/THE MAKER: L'Apprenti Sorcier

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THE MAKER: L'Apprenti Sorcier
Date of Scene: 22 April 2022
Location: Manhattan Subway
Synopsis: A wizard wielding a strange form of magic appears in the subway! Chaos ensues!
Cast of Characters: Victor Von Doom, Mary Jane Watson, Elsa Bloodstone, Morrigan MacIntyre, Illyana Rasputina, Stephen Strange

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Manhattan's subway tunnels have seen their share of mystery. From housing secret communities of mutants to the spiritual embodiment of the borough itself. But the chaos that erupted during the morning commute as the Northbound Local pulled in may be the strangest yet.

The station itself is one of the oldest, and the strange emanations of magic are the sort that would draw in both the attune and the naturally sensitive alike. Something not at all like anything else on Earth, the sort of thing that could cause a normal person with no experience with magic to find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Or maybe it's just bad luck.

Either way, the platform is crowded with the regular tableaux of commuters. Save for one wizened figure who looks as though he's cosplaying Game of Thrones. He leans on a gnarled branch like a crutch, looking left and right for a moment and then tapping the tiles beneath his feet.

A scream somewhere in the back.

A shout of confusion.

The sound of a street musician's guitar breaking.

Emerging from the tiles, the walls, the concrete ceiling itself are creatures. Humanoid in shape but without features. Lopsided in shape and of varying heights.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
She had been going over on the subway. A large duffel bag over her back, slung over a shoulder. The bag clanking as she would walk. She had been coming from some time exploring along the area, seeing if there were any local smiths. To anyone who asked, Mary Jane Watson would have just said she was a LARP'er looking to get some work done on her equipment. On her way to take the subway back, about to thumb her phone on to call Aunt Anna..
    "Sunnuva." Not a nice word to come from the redhead. Green eyes would roll up to her head as she would tense. Body language shifting. A casual, social posture and persona vanishing over as body would rapidly shift to a combat stance. Teeth flashing with glee. Snapping the heavy greatsword made of ancient metals forged from things tens of millenia ago out of the duffel bag, slinging it away.
    "Freaks!" Gleeful bloodlust radiating off her.

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
Why would someone loaded, especially a monster hunter like Elsa, loaded and loaded for bear so to speak take a subway? Wearing a grey overcoat, of the cheap and easily replaceable kind over some shiny orange patent leather pants and cropped zip up top not quite zipped up while carrying a guitar case would get way more questions if she called ride share. Everyone assumes musician.

Luckily while there might be a guitar in the case that might feel very heavy as if there was more in there. It's not a problem at all for Elsa to carry. The Subway is just a better way to get around with as little fuss as possible. No one wants to deal with anyone usually on a crowded commute.

Of course it turns out that she should have just walked as she starts hearing screams and looks down the platform to see what's coming and going.

"Bloody marvelous!" she curses, clearly not amused as she hunkers down and starts opening the case laid flat on the floor.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Manhattan mornings for some are Manhattan evenings for others. Morrigan's been at Mount Sinai for most of it, working on a back log that was probably just pushing a deadline, but she managed to clear the board. She'd packed up and headed for the subway, the redhead with the few stark white locks at her temple is not expecting the subway to be any more adventerous than it already is.

But here they are!

Someone back peddles, knocking into her as the humanoids start emerging from things. "Hold this, please." she states as she shoves the to go cup of coffee at a random passerby and then she moves with quick strides to see play her part in the 'Unwelcome Wagon' for these interlopers.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The blonde Russian girl in a fluffy red chiffon dress and thigh-high boots could be odd on a smaller transit system somewhere sedate. Like if Tulsa or Topeka had light rail. Someone might question the idea of someone that fit wearing a grey overcoat and spinning around the ends of a chiffon sash around her waist. But this is New York, so this is high fashion. When you have cheekbones sharper than the fabled sword of King Arthur, she gets away with it. When you have frosty looks that would make Donatella Versace consider slaying the whole House of Gucci to get her first for Fashion Week, she succeeds smashingly at being the first out. The vibrations from the rails and the screeching wails that radiate from poorly maintained electronics, hydraulics, and everything else pass through the willow-slim sorceress in that vibrant, frothy gown.

"Here," she tells the Sorcerer Supreme behind her. "Maybe teatime? So I do not ruin this very nice dress, da?" Someone leapt out of the most famous Rococo painting of them all, lost her hat, landing here as she spills from a car onto the platform in a vivid shock of cherry frothery. Half the pedestrian queue inside the train likely hasn't thought about the ceiling or disturbance out there. The single-minded need to get out to the street convulses them still. Her instincts, honed by very different situations, shiver to another element. Already she's turning, pushing against the tide of people eager to get into the train. It's enough to make the Hell-Lord consider snarling to see what they would do.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Stephen Strange on a subway? Stranger things have happened. He himself is dressed in a more subdued manner, which means no cloaks or mystical garb for the moment. But, rather, greys and blacks...certainly to allow the blonde with the red chiffon center stage. Complementary, but not overpowering. Just as the male counterpart should be, at least to some. The train slows to a stop, allowing the two to step off to the station platform beyond.

"Most assuredly teatime. It would be a shame to mar your ensemble by any means." Not that it would happen at all, considering who they are. Still, it is the thought that counts. Yet, as the two step out, the things more strange than a surgeon riding public transportation emerge from the tiles of the very station itself. And...if one was to watch Stephen very closely, they might actually catch him in an eye-roll. Because, of course something like this will have to happen now. Still, he follows Illyana, against the crowd.

Towards the danger.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
The platform is chaos. Even as the more civic-minded (or bloodthirsty) sorts begin to close in on the strange creatures, the commuters push forward in a human flood. Some disappear up the stairs, some even drop down onto the tracks in an effort to escape. Unmoving through it all is the wizened person clad in furs and skins, leaning on the strange stick that now glows with a golden twinkle at one end.

"Hmph!" the wizened figure growls, turning towards the yelling redhead. In the same motion, several of the animated lumps of masonry turn to her and approach with arms outstretched.

The figure glances at the long stick, holding it up to peer with one wide eye at the golden light shining from the tip of the branch.

The monstrous stone figures don't seem to have much of a mind of their own. They outright ignore the fleeing people, standing perfectly still. The only time they seem to move is when they're under the gaze of the figure holding the stick.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja looks gleeful as she goes to take out her Greatsword. The fleeing citizenry is paid little attention as she has a melee. "Come freaks, let us see if you bleed!" The warrior-woman going in for a frontal charge on one of them. Brutal swing of the sword that would on something normal cleanly bisect them and go out the other end with about as much resistance as a hot knife and butter. Instead of bloody mass going everywhere..
    The sword goes through, but with much more resistance and only a partial slash through. The sword, ancient as it was, was not designed to hack apart something like that.
    She would in turn be hit by a counter-attack by one of the things and be slammed backwards, hitting over into a newspaper stand and it crashing about her!

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
While mostly having been doing her own thing as far as mystical mayhem goes. Elsa does at least keep up todate on some of the who's whos. So eyeing The Doctor and the Demon Queen the hunkered down ginger grins and turns her blue eyes towards the stone creatures coming out of the walls and tunnels and whatever.

Even the other redhead with the greatsword gets a looking over of appraisal and approval before the big honking sword gets another even more approving look.

Even another ginger in Morrigan is smiled at before Elsa rises and lumps her weapon of choice into her shoulders.

It's the Guitar. A genuine and expensive white El-Ectric Kabong. Made after one too many rockstar would trash their instruments. The durability made to handle as much impact as a sledgehammer. The only down side is that as musical instrument it had one flaw.

It sounded awful!

"Time to knock some bloddy blocks off!" she states and charges gripping the instrument by the neck like an actual axe and taking a very hefty swing at the first creature in range. The sound of the guitar impact earning it's name as superhuman strength is leveraged behind the swing.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
"What's your deal?" the Irish accent is pronounced given she's annoyed with her trip home being delayed and it's aimed at the one who summoned the stone. They do kinda stand out. Morrigan's usually one to ask questions first and then shatter stone if there are people being roughed up, they seem to be ignoring the fleeing people for the moment. She does recognize Strange though, but there is no time greetings. There's a nod in his and Illyana's direction before she goes back to looking at the gnarled magic user.

She does focus energy behind her, putting up a wall between stone folks and those that are fleeing. The others have plenty of room to move and work though!

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"We may still make it. Proper sandwiches, the cucumber ones." Illyana's Russian accent betrays her origins not to the sprawling megacity of Moscow or the refined old capital, St. Petersburg, but something closer to the fallen Mongol khanates far, far to the east. Her oddity of dress and concern for English cucumber and dill sandwiches must be slightly perplexing under normal circumstances. These are not normal. "The metro stations in Moscow are works of art. Everyone there would rebel if someone used the tiles or hit the performers." Disdain vibrates through her tone as one of the monstrous stone creatures bears down on seemingly unprepared musicians and a Hyborean warrior pouncing them from behind.

Morrigan's magic flares, a clean familiarity that draws her frost-blue eyes for a moment. Then hers answers a rejoinder, as she pulls a sword from up her sleeve. Impressive sleight of hand, considering its length is two-thirds her height when the Soulsword fully forms. A double-handed grip adjusts the guard as she springs at the nearest sorry stone statue, swinging with vicious cross-cuts that bleed a blue-white radiance to hungrily devour enchantments and unearthly flesh alike.


Stephen Strange has posed:
"Of course, my dear. This would be just a minor setback." So confident, that voice. And, as he speaks, Strange lifts up his hands, seemingly drawing lazy circles in the air. Although, those circles start to have form, the eldritch energies sparking in the air as the amber lines join, forming what seems to be a circle of protection, for both Illyana and himself. Such a noble gesture, it would seem, putting up a shield to protect the two.

However, Stephen knows perfectly well who he is with. And she...does not require protection. The circle shifts, the edges starting to spin as the shield becomes more...an impossibly sharp offensive disc. With a flick of the wrist, Strange sends it forth, the spellcraft sawblade hurtling its way to the nearest stone golem, the circle penetrating the stone from head to approximately the knees, if these creatures had any. A sideglance towards Illyana, as the Soulsword makes its appearance, followed by a slight grin.

"Cannot let you have all the fun. you know."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
"What? No!" the wizened figure in their furs and skins looks from statue to statue as they're shattered by attacks, brow furrowing until he throws off the hood he's wearing to reveal a bearded face.

"You there! Midgardur! Stop that at once! Do you not know the might of Nidhogg when you see it?"

The statue that Elsa shatters flies apart in a hail of masonry, only to clatter to the ground and reform itself like some self-completing jigsaw puzzle. Once reformed, it lashes out with a backhand blow crammed with all the force of a flying brick.

"What, why are you all here? Feh! Grattauga, you fork-tongued old crone!"

He puts on a high-pitched voice, as though impersonating someone of great age: "Ohhh, Ljott. Midgard is a land of simple mortals - ploughmen and washerwomen! You'll have no problem!"

His eyes widen and he points the stick at Doctor Strange, the end of it flaring gold once again.

"I know you! The Seidhrmann! An ally of the oafish prince! Bring him to me and I will spare your realm!"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
"Wizard! Cease this prattle! Or I'll cease it for you!" Red Sonja would go to leap up from the collapsed woodwork, body bloody from the splinters, even ignoring them and chunks where they had shredded into her.
    Several dozen meters away, well out of charge range, much less with the group of golems..
    Red Sonja would go to yank over to take out a large throwing axe, and move to launch it through the air over at the wizard.
    "Your ilk should be silenced! So I'll just be off with your head and that should be enough!" A handaxe thrown at that range was difficult.. If one didn't know how to throw a handaxe at that range. Or have the strength.
    Red Sonja, fortunatley (or not) had both for better or ill in this circumstance as she would launch it at the man wielding the stick.

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
Elsa has been hit with bricks in the past and when her opponent reforms itself while the old man controlling them is yelling she's knocked on her backside and skidded back.

This is not something she is happy about.

On her feet once more, the woman has some blood streaming down her forehead and over her face. The stone attached to the choker on her neck. The Bloodgem she gets her name from glows while the wound heals and Elsa just grimaces like she's just really disappointed at something Cuillen did and shouldn't have.

The stone stature all aniimate is just kicked back and onto the tracks and out of her way while she slips a hand into her coat and draws another weapon.

Its a big honking revolver.

"Hey, redheaded barbarian lady. Please aim for the stick and not the head. Old geezers like him love their overcompensating pieces of bloody old wood!" she yells out while lining up a shot with one hand. The other swinging at stone monsters to get some crowd control and room for any straggling civillians to escape.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan looks to the left, then the right and then back to the space where the wizard stands. She shrugs then, she asked questions first, now it was time to just cause massive amounts of statuary damage. "Sic em, Rio!" the Irish woman calls out and out of the aether comes a very large and very bitey ebony colored Tibetan Mastiff. The inky dog lets out a howl before he rushes one of the stone humanoids, bowling them over to keep it out of the way.

"Need to figure out how they reform." she tells herself, and loud enough for the others that are fighting them to hear. She'd let Riordan let out some aggression while she tried to figure this out.

Something that the other magic user tells them makes her laugh, "Oh yeah, that's rich." she muses as they say to hand over Strange. Not it!

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Red Sonja's statement might be very real fighting words if directed at the other wizards. As they aren't insulting the icy blonde accessorizing this season's hottest tea-length dress using a flaming sword, the respected doctor focused on civilians, or the lumberjack supreme, all is well. Illyana curls her lip at the wizened caster, catching something in his mimicry. "Bah! Midgard is spoken for. Put down your stick before I make you eat it."

This would all be very impressive if the bounding defenses didn't involve lego blocks of heavy stone falling on them or plasterwork trying to grab people. Statues that want to close on her are going to have a bad day, the backhanded swings of the Soulsword burning through the animating spellwork in vicious flashes. She adjusts to avoid hitting Morrigan's inky friend flying by, or harming whatever nightvision he has.

"Any symbols you See?" she calls to the lady doctor. The path she breaks isn't just idly engaging the first thing she sees, but trying to open a clear line for Strange to play 'Mister Doctor Seidrmann Sawmill' games.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Well....that is a new one.

Well, maybe not new. The use of the Norse term for 'magic man' catches Stephen by mild surprise. Though, honestly, he should have expected it, considering the use of Midgard and the very unique name of the wizard that has pointed Strange out. Yes, he did catch the Ljott name! Still, the older term is quite quaint, in its own way. Still, a wizard, pointing a glowy staff at Stephen? Yeah, probably not necessarily the best thing to be happening right now.

Oafish prince? Probably speaking of Thor, most likely. There might be a soft muttering of Asgardians under Stephen's breath before he turns his attention towards the other male magic user. "Allow me to propose a counteroffer. You cease your actions here, and I shall spare you and allow you to return to your realm peacefully." There is no jest in those words of the good doctor. Strange means what he says. "I assure you. It really is the best option available for you at the moment. For I cannot guarantee your safety otherwise if you do insist upon wrecking havoc here. Midgard is not without its guardians."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Ljott, the Wizard in Question, turns to glance at Red Sonja just as she throws the axe. The staff he carries is waved through the air, the light at the end flaring once more. Then the axe turns to a flutter of rose petals that drift through the air and sprinkle down about his head and shoulders.

"Brute!" Ljott turns to look at Elsa, frowning through his scraggly beard, "I'm not overcompensating for anything!"

The sudden appearance of the hound prompts him to swirl the staff about him, the tiled platform turning momentarily to fluid that rises around him in a whirlwind. A moment later it freezes, sealing him within a shell of concrete and ceramic. A small gap opens, and Ljott peers through to point the stick in the general direction of the train tracks.

A moment later, a bestial roar like the scraping of tortured metal rings through the station. Out from the darkness of the tunnel emerges a silvery dragon - fanged maw and steel talons clutching at the stonework. As it rushes out, one can see glass scales at its side - and the livery of a subway train! Like some hellish blend of fantastic beast and public mass transit vehicle!

"Your threats are empty, Seidhrmann! I wield magic beyond even your understanding!"

It roars, lashing out at Doctor Strange and Illyana with its tail before it rockets upwards. The grand old skylight of City Hall Station shatters, along with the masonry around it, and the creature rockets upwards into the street above.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Red Sonja falls back. <<You didn't have to tell him you were throwing something at him!>> Mary Jane's voice would come off snarkily to Sonja. An irritated growl is the only answer, which would get a rare mental chuckle from the body's primary persona at getting to correct the current embodiment.
    The man summoning a dragon gets her to hiss. This is why wizards require gutting. The shattering of glass around and tumbling has Red Sonja instinctively bringing her hand up over her head to protect her face from falling glass and metal. This requires some shifting of her normal tactics.
    Red Sonja goes to dart along, sword in hand, racing agilely along the ground. "Come, crafted thing! Let us see how many times we have to tear you apart so you can't put yourself back together!" Her evaluating. Position of creature, how fast it could move, position of bystanders, third rail, position of cars.. For now, she's just maneuvering and defensive. Strikes with her blade would do more damage to her blade than that thing.

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
There's a dragon. It used to he a train. Hopefully no one was on the damn thing. But that might take a moment. First things first. the revolver is aimed while she has a shot at the stick and the gap and the trigger is pulled. The very heavy caliber firearms cracks like thunder as the shot flies fast and hopefully is enough to destroy the stick or staff or whatever the old bastard calls it.

"Yeah. It's bloddy definitely the sodding stick!" she states and holsters the weapon before taking the Guitar in both hands and chargiing the train dragon and leaping at it head to head.

This might be a bad idea but may a dragon has been slain from the inside out. If anything there might still be controlls that can be yanked on to shut it down.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
"It is definitely the staff and it is no magic I've ever seen, something entirely new!" Morrigan calls over to Illyana and the others. Rio rounds, trying to keep his stone opponent harried, but not wanting to have to deal with him having to reform. It manages to kick the large hound, causing an string of Irish curses to come out of it instead of a growl or a whine.

Morrigan's attention is drawn to the dragon that suddenly appears and for a moment she just blinks, then the ceiling is shattering and raining down. "Aww shit." she gripes as she switches attention, "I'm...going to go get the dragon." she throws her hands up as she takes a step back and then shoots up into the air.

"Excuse me, you've not been cleared to take off here!" she shouts after the dragon. "Could I interest you in maybe not wrecking New York? We've had a rough few months. I've got some teenagers that would love to meet you while you're alive!" she adds.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"People in there!" Illyana shouts in warning while Elsa bounds forward and Red Sonja challenges the best of the New York transportation system. She doesn't need to look too sharply at the windows to see the commuters within their suddenly animated carapace. The combination of falling shards of prismatic glass and now a lashing tail forces the Demon Queen back. Call it falling with style into a portal that severs her connection with the mundane plane. A flutter of red chiffon puddles on the ground like so much blood, cut away by dirty scales and oxidized metals.

In the time it takes to pull a trigger, she reappears a good deal down the platform in another portal. The bounce factor is high, straight off the tiles, rebounding to a wall, then the ceiling. Ow.

<<You will reform the glass ceiling. I will reward you with a bag of soul snacks when you return to me in Limbo after the task is complete.>> Her infernal commands hurt the ears to hear when she forms her voice in ways human physiology was never meant to provide, pointing one gauntleted finger at the gaping ceiling. No less than ten of her subjects, small and green, rush past her to gleefully collect the glass. They can move pretty damn fast given they have eight legs like a spider and the wit to reweave whole parts of the landscape in Limbo, which is always changing. She rises up from a crouch, staring at the torn hemline, unaccountably irritated. "Correction, we will /take/ your stick. And /then/ I will introduce you to the joys of Karma Chameleon sung by the Discord Choir."

Stephen Strange has posed:
It would seem that Ljott has chosen the difficult way. Which, truth be told, Stephen expected. Already, a plan was formulating within the mind of the Sorcerer Supreme. Several plans, really, though the diplomacy and suggestion to cease was first on the list. Because, yes, as the situation continues, it does become harder to guarantee safety. And Stephen would much rather not have to resort to more unsavory methods to resolve the situation.

So, Plan A did not work. Plan B is up. While most everyone else focuses on the steel-and-glass winged wyrm within the station, Strange focuses solely on the wizard and his staff. "You leave me with little choice." The sorcerer crosses his arms, his wrists touching and hovering just below his chin. "I call upon the Crimson Bands of Cytorrak! Restrain this old fool before he regrets his decisions!" At Strange's calling, what seems to be solid red bands manifest before the sorcerer. And, with a grand gesture as the crossed arms spread out wide, uncrossing and flinging out towards Ljott, the mystical shackles appear to attempt to entwine about the wizard, with particular attention towards the arms and the eyes of the older wizard. It would seem that Strange believes that blinding the interloper and taking away the ability to use the staff seem to be the best course of action for the time being.

That is, of course, if Strange didn't have to dodge falling glass while doing so, which certainly increases the difficulty of the spellcasting.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
As the unbreakable Crimson Bands close in on Ljott, the concrete and ceramic egg around him shatters against their relentless force. They wrap around the wizened man, binding him tight though the staff is still clasped tightly in his hand and pinned against his side.

"The rudimentary powers of up-jumped mortals playing at godhood!" He screws his face into a livid sneer, and the Crimson Bands begin to shudder about him and lose their coloring. Shifting from vivid ruby light to something like sun-bleached marble, slowly shedding dust and crumbling.

"Midgard's mighty Seidhrmann! See how powerful you are ... in Hel!"

The tip of the staff flares golden, brighter than ever before, and encompasses the Sorcerer Supreme in his entirety.

Up above, the dragon continues to soar about even as the heroes go to battle with it. Inside, commuters hammer on the 'glass scales' in a panic as they're thrown about inside. Strangely, at the same time the great flare of golden light emerges from the ruined skylight, the dragon freezes in mid-air - the perfect time to strike!

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Her sword's not going to do anything particularly effective against the dragon.. Particularly in it's state with people inside it. She can't break the armored shell of it either, and risk people tumbling out..
    What she can see however is a long heavy metal chain, the likes of which were used normally for lifting cargo on platforms for construction. Heavy.. Durable.. Capable of holding tight.
    She would go to pick it up, grunting.. Then go to leap for the scaffolding, heavy hook and chain thrown over shoulder, climbing up the nearly sheer wall as hands would hoist her upwards. It's a long trek, and would take her several minutes.. But her ultimate intent being to haul and hurl the thing on to the dragon to anchor it.
    If one of the other heroes could give a helping hand then it would go much faster than 'several minutes'!

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
"Of bloody course there is. No blowing up the damn dragon!" Elsa yells in an exasperated British accent as she leaps into the dragon's maw and sees how far in she can get and hopefully find a brake leaver.

The joys of having bystanders to keep safe instead of expediently wrecking the train and ending the threat.

"Godhood? Ugh. My power is so so much bloody older than that older than that!" she yells. Bloodgem glowing with power. It's probably not a great feeling for any half vampires to be around. But Elsa is a little more concerned with how any possible contrills can be found or electronics in the damn things head.

The guitar ios slung over a shoulder and the revolver is pulled out and then it's twin from the opposite holster.

Hopefully, having been a train car once, the metal is not as durable as stone. Aiming so the business ends of the guns are not going to go backwards into what where the train cars. Elsa opens fire up into the roof of the Dragon's bount and hopefully fry electronicly coopted brains and machinery. The train already off the rains but maybe it'll come down to a stop a little more gently.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan's not trying to hit the dragon at the moment, she focuses on getting the humans that are /inside/ ported to a safe spot on the ground that is /outside/. It's a bit of an excercise as she tries to dodge the dragon, but she does managed to get smacked.

Thankfully Morrigan's not a half-vampire that reacts to religious iconography, so the Bloodgem's use goes off without her even registering it. "Alright dragon, follow me back down to the ground and we'll get this all sorted out!" she blasts it with a ball of violet and ebon laced energy before she dives back down towards the ground.

Those poor people were going to need therapy for being stuck inside train dragon. Woof.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana may be many things, but a sweet and patient child she is not.

She wheels on Ljott the wizard while her demons seek to reassemble the skylight to its former grandeur. Apparently she shares some of her brother's artistic spirit and likewise his quiet appreciation for beauty.

All semblances to Colossus' better nature there end when it's her partner wrapped up in a golden globe of radiance. Dragons bedamned. At the speed of thought, holes through reality take form, accompanied by a winged apology to Oshtur, lady of the Vishanti.

<<I can't fail him. Or them.>> A simple statement as that holds the possessive, inchoate fury of a much darker side tempting the Eldest horrors beyond in check. One fine line aims to engulf the end of Ljott's staff where it glows, separating it from the staff, and toss it aside. The other she stands inside, placing her inside Limbo itself -- and more importantly, the Soulsword point down. Rippling witchfire wreathes her in a violent halo, spreading out in a widening circular disk that expands towards redheads three, oh my.

"Toss a coin for the seidr, oh sisters of magic!"

Stephen Strange has posed:
As the scarlet restraints encircle Ljott, it would appear that Plan B is working. Until....the crimson fades to pale stone and disintegrates. Well, that was not supposed to happen. And....a hypothesis was proven wrong. The otherdimensional magic user does not need line of sight to perform his spells. Good to know.

However, before Strange can react on his newfound knowledge, the staff flares back to life and a golden glow surrounds the sorcerer, so bright that he instinctively shifts to shield his eyes. It is the opening that Ljott needed, definitely. The momentary lack of defenses, the concentration broken by the combination of his spell shattering and the bright light.

It is only for a second, but the second is all that was needed. There is little to no resistance to what seems to be a sending spell. The light blinds...and it is hard to tell if Strange is still within the realm of Midgard or not. But...as the light subsides, either due to Illyana's actions or the completion of Ljott's spell, it becomes painfully apparent.

Stephen Strange is no longer in the area.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
As Elsa fries the creature's brain, it doesn't seem to impact the dragon so much as the circuitry for the machine that it is partly composed of. The energy blast from Morrigan causes it to shudder once more and then the electronics go haywire. The doors begin to scrape back on their rails, falling open all up and down its shiny carapace. The commuters inside begin to clamber out, some scaling down the side of the frozen wyrm while others just make a jump for it towards the street below. Others still are teleported out thanks to Morrigan, looking around in awe and wondering if their morning could get any stranger. The whole time the creature creaks and groans, as though struggling to move.

The light suddenly dims as the powers of Limbo sever the top of the staff, and at once all the strange changes the magic had wrought cease. The dragon-train ceases to be a dragon at all, reforming itself like free-flowing water into the shape of a silvery subway train. Except it's suspended in the air above City Hall Park, to which it now freefalls to land on the pavement and lawn with an ear-splitting crash.

Likewise, beneath the ground in the subway station, the statues pause and begin to melt away. Some sink into the floor, filling in big chunks and craters. Others rush like upwardly flowing sand into the ceiling, reforging parts of it even as the Demons of Limbo reassemble the broken skylight.

Ljott, a look of panic in his eyes, looks at the staff he's carrying. The gnarled branch falls to the ground as he discards it, beady eyes finding what looks like a crystallized ball of golden light toppling through the air nearby. He dives for it without thinking, one stubby-fingered hand wrapping around it tight.

And he screams.

The form of Ljott is run through with spreading cracks of gold, as though there were a sudden light within him now breaking free. His form takes on an ashen quality, blowing apart and peeling away on an unfelt breeze. He howls in agony as the last vestiges of light tear through him, leaving behind nothing but a faint golden outline in his shape. The crystal of gold hangs in the air for a second before it implodes in on itself in the same blinding light that disappeared the Sorcerer Supreme.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Up in the air Red Sonja can only see what is going on, hoisting up the long chain and hook she had been climbing with and going to swear. Then going to lift up the hook and move to hurl it -towards- the floor where Ljott had been upon and seemingly vanished. Her using most of her strength to launch it over at the ground. Never trust a wizard to not have more trickery up his sleeve.
    So if he were to cast an illusion to try and conceal his escape or his movement to try and attack them from another end, he might hopefully be rudely interrupted by several hundred pounds of hurled metal slamming into him. But since it was very likely that hew as suffering a far, far worse fate than merely being crushed that was unnecessary. From her position, Red Sonja would go to jump up towards the scaffolding even as the fight seemingly had reached it's finale.. For now, at least. Sword on her back now, looped into place.

Elsa Bloodstone has posed:
From Elsa's point of view, the train dragon stops enough and people alight as best they can. A head pokes out with blood red hair trailing behind. "So. You off the old bastard or we still doing this? Nobody dead? I'd hate to have to vengenace when there's nobody to vengeance on. That just pisses me right the bloody hell off!" she yells out  wholeholstering her weapons and jumping out.

Looking around, the ginger gunfighter sniffs around. "Hey, where did not so old wizard go? That was Doctor Strange right?" she asks towards the blonde woman with the big Soulsword of glowy fun. Nose wiggling as she tries to catch a scent but it's a New York Subway Station. Might as well be a trash dump and sewer in some corners.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan's lead the dragon back down and thankfully it's not going to go crashing from so high in the sky. She turns her attention from it though when there are people that are jumping, "Oh please no..." the Irish woman states as she tries desperately to make sure that everyone that was on the train gets to the ground safely.

The sorceress isn't a magical vortex and when you're using a lot of power so quickly it tends to cross your third eye. There's one more person falling and she manages to grab onto them, slowing them before it levels out, but not before they both hit the ground. No bones crack or anything, but Morrigan does feel her head bounce off the concrete before she tastes blood in her mouth.

"Remember to watch your feet as you get off the train." she mutters. "Where did I leave my coffee..." the woman adds as she rolls to get up, spitting out blood as she does.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Morrigan's plight against the dragon isn't lost on Illyana, but she's already dealing with the golden blast and the aftermath, too numb to help much. Lucky they have another master of the mystic arts to worry about the mortal masses.

"He's gone," the words grind out, full of poisoned intent and crackling, dubious fury. Gone. Gone is not dead, and that word choice is deliberate as Illyana goes to one knee inside the stepping disk that connects two very different places and times at one temporarily fixed point. Gone; her dress in shreds, the golden dust flying through the air. "We're still doing this." Her hand opens and closes, testing to see how bad the landing on her wrist went. The gauntlet's intact, but that doesn't stop bruising or bones from breaking. When it peels back, the metal retreats to bare her skin and the pair of rings. A welt where the armour plates meet already rises under her sleeve, and her coat isn't surviving the forged black armour, complete with pointy spikes, that decides to crawl over her.

"That was Doctor Strange," she answers Elsa. Words are hard right now. "You, lady with the sword, you want to hunt a wizard properly? We go get him back." The shining, fiery sword narrows down to a more reasonable proportion, and somehow looks a whole lot scarier for it. She points to the swirling teleportation circle that clearly links somewhere 'not in a subway with demons and dragon-trains.' "Next stop, wherever he is. We will not leave Earth without its protection. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer."