12781/Resonants: Finale Pt. 1

Resonants: Finale Pt. 1
Date of Scene:	14 October 2022
Location:	Central Gardens - Atlantic Starport
Synopsis:	The Ritual is enacted, only it does not go well as the party is crashed.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Colborn, Steve Rogers, Lara Croft, Thea Queen, Zatanna Zatara, Jane Foster, Sif
Tinyplot:	Resonants

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Thor has posed:
    "Hearken to me good people," the Skald's voice rose as he stood upon the dais, gesturing with grand sweeping motions that spoke of ages past and using the cultivated scholarly talent of rhetoric. "For I would share with you the tales of the heroes who came together in an effort to bring peace between the realms."
    His voice was strong and carried, and there was a small gathering of observers around him there upon the central area where the ritual is to take place. A landing pad had been converted that overlooked the ocean. Sea waves lap gently at its metal edge. A few places of prominence had been prepared where each item of resonance was stored, some in open view for ones larger such as the figurehead from the several thousand year old Vanir ship. Others were less obvious or worked into the elaborate mural of Yggdrasil that had been crafted into the fabric of the landing pad by an Asgardian artist combining craft and magic together to create such a thing of beauty.
    "Let it be said no longer that our good Prince is only gifted upon the field of battle, for it was in part his own inspiration that brought this quest forward and to completion. Inspiration to help the travelers between our realms ruled so by King Odin to create a link between them all!" Aerich gestured as he worked his verbal magic, small illustrations and illusions growing into life behind him. A figure of Thor scratching his head and getting a light bulb over it. Then of him dourly walking and walking to a mystical tower.
    "It was here he spoke to the mighty sorcerer and the lady fair, and together they came up with a plan!"
    The story continued as Aerich spoke, somewhat caricature-like images of Dr. Strange and Jane Foster come to life and confer with Thor as the skald weaves his tale.
    Yet around him there were many people who were not directly paying him attention. For many of the souls that the heroes had met, many of the beings that had given them aid were in attendance for the event and there was a celebratory feel to the air.
    The modification to the landing pad had gone well, several small buildings were around the edges of it that likely were for helping visitors when they arrived. There were metal and cement barriers that were not without artistic merit as some had drawn murals upon their faces. Finally there was a table with refreshment to be had, though not as large as an Asgardian celebration's spread. The mood was a little more somber albeit hopeful. So there was mulled cider, wine, and iced water as well as a spread of meats and cheeses. Though with the way the sky shines with so many beautiful stars, and the way those small lights reflect upon the ocean's surface? One cannot be blamed for being drawn into the beauty of the moment. And with the number of smiles on the faces of those around it was clear it was an infectious sentiment.
    Eitri the King of the Dwarfs was there, with two of his finest men. Young Frikke stood to the side with Northfort's seneschal Dorin at his side. Teagan North in his green finery wearing that smile was sharing two words with an Asgardian maid a good sight taller than he was. There were other Asgardians, other travelers from the realms, all together for the event.
    But as for Thor?
    He was taking his time to reflect, smiling a little to himself as he stands on the edge of the crowd. His choice in garb showed he had not escaped that feeling of celebration for he wore what would be at home in Asgard's court. Shining black leather boots upon his feet, crimson breeks with a black belt through its loops. A silver and black tunic that was tailored perfectly to fit the contours of his form, and over one shoulder a vermillion half-cloak that hung just so to hide the mystic hammer at his side.

Colborn has posed:
    When one put personal blood and sweat into a part of a project, that person tends to want to at least be present to see the unveiling of the project as a whole. Such is why Colborn of the Eternals is present. His contribution was something of a personal quest to see his best work done for the sake of all Midgard.

    And while his prowess on the battlefield is not really the stuff of legends, his crafting skills apparently are.

    At this event however, he is content to stand in the background, enjoying a horn of mead and some sweet bread. His own manner of clothing suited to keeping him unnoticed in present company. For the most part, he is the type of guy who watches quietly and enjoys solitude even in a crowd. So there he is, apparently holding up one of the nearby walls with his back.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The trip out to the spaceport on the civilian shuttles made for the culmination of a long day for Steve Rogers. True to his word, when Lara Croft emerged from the gate at JFK where her flight from Heathrow had landed, a familiar face was standing in the crowd at the gate. Holding one of those signs like a chauffer uses to meet up with the person they'll be driving. Blue eyes reflecting the grin on his lips.

Then driving from JFK into the city so the arriving Englishwoman could get changed. Steve was already wearing a pair of slacks and a beige honeycomb sweater that would be appropriate should the Atlantic spaceport be windy.

From there, the trip to the high speed shuttle out to the spaceport. Boarding it and taking a seat, Steve's smile grew as he spotted a young woman in red leathers and a mask. "Red Arrow," he'd said to the Starling archer, giving her a nod of his head in greeting. Introductions were made to Agent Croft thereafter. And after polite conversation, the shuttle was arriving at the spaceport and the trio disembarking it and following directions over to the spot where the new portals would be set up.

Steve asks Lara and Red Arrow if they would like something, while selecting a mulled cider for himself. As he meets Thor's eye across the room he smiles to him and gives a little bow of his head towards the Asgardian.

Lara Croft has posed:
It's an odd experience to fly from one side of the Atlantic, to the other, only to turn around and fly back to about the middle of the same ocean again, but... Lara is used to a lot of odd experiences in life. She'd met Steve with a happy expression at his displayed sign, and joined him on the ride back to NYC.

Fast forwarding to the here and now, Lara is wearing a light weather jacket, black leather, over a dark green sweater that is form fit beneath the leather jacket. A pair of black slacks and simple shoes make up the rest of her attire, as Steve said a 'nice casual' dress code was acceptable.

And here they are, Lara smiling to the Arrow, and offering a hand, before looking to what is offered. "Ah... more mead. I'm not sure I've ever been around so much mead, until I threw my hat in for helping the Asgardians where, and how, I can." She says to both Steve and Incognito Thea.

Thea Queen has posed:
It was finally time for all the items to come together in a celebration! And if there was one thing Thea Queen knew intimately was celebratin'...

Yet of course it wasn't Thea Queen riding up on that shuttle, nope. It was Red Arrow. And through to the Arrow Tradition (Tm) she had to look broody. Just a little touch for her brother's sake. But then again it's not as if that red and black leather outfit with the hood and the mask isn't intimidating already so half her job is done. She blesses all the Gods (in this case the Asgardians tonight) that -this- one doesn't chafe at least.

The shuttle trip is quite the ride though her eyes get taken from the window as someone addresses her, elegant chin dipping in a greeting to the Captain. "Captain." respect in that soft voice. "It is good to meet you in the land of the living.." some amusement in her tone. She offers a smile to Lara as well, "Good evening.", shaking the other woman's hand. "I am sure we could share stories on how we first got to meet with them."

And with polite talk being her bread and butter she doesn't disappoint during the trip though when they step out there's a look around. Many familiar faces. She's perhaps surprised at how many they are and she first waves to where Frikke is.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Among those standing on the edge of the Asgardian mural listening raptly to the bard is a raven-haired woman, her shoulder-length hair swept back from her high forehead and held in place by a simple platinum fillet.

Her long black gown shimmers when she moves and is simple in cut, outlining her slender figure. The dress has been passed down from woman to woman in her family, ritual garb worn for ceremonies. Its modest high neck and long sleeves belled at the wrists evoking the past and the long line of magicians of Zatanna's kind. And unlike any other person in the room, she is barefoot.

The cup in her hand holds water; she needs a clear head for the work that awaits her. Attentive to the bard's words that she seems, the magician has withdrawn from the crowd, marshaling her senses and thoughts for the coming ceremony weaving the Nine Realms together.

Jane Foster has posed:
Where better for an astrophysicist to be than space? Midgard stands proud among the Nine Realms, and Jane might dare to be part of the assembly tonight. Day? It becomes rather arbitrary up here. She keeps her back to the portrait of herself and the Sorcerer Supreme meeting with Thor in the same way some performers simply don't watch their own movies. Better for conversation with varied people that she meets, greeting and catching up by bits. Her attire marks her firmly as the realm's liaison, favouring a deep blue Asgardian-style dress spattered in stars and asymmetrical earrings that cage labradorite stones practically glowing in their own cosmic radiance. "Is everything as you need it? I need to drop these off," she asides softly to Zatanna, trying not to interrupt the skald but pick a break. A small bag in her arms is shifted to her hip. "Let me know if you need anything. I'm on watch tonight." Of course she'd be; stars, astronomer? It's the territory to stare at them in admiration, sorceresses included.

Far be it from her to arrive empty-handed, her contributions for Lady Sif and Thor concealed within a pair of handsome wooden boxes that can easily be overlooked in the majesty of the place. She safely tucks them aside among mead with instructions to whichever staff keeps libations flowing as to who gets what.

An hour for celebration, and still her gaze travels around the assembled dwarves, elves, and others, marking their position. Lara, Thea, and Steve together cut a distinctive knot and she nods encouragingly in their direction, marooned where drinks may be. Steve approaching warrants a bit of a widened smile. "All's turned out rather well, hasn't it? Thank you for ensuring everything went smoothly in tight spots," she murmurs as a proper hello. Enough not to detract from other conversation.

Sif has posed:
After all of the adventures to obtain the items, Sif was not going to miss the culmination of their combined efforts. Though she was not looking as she normally would when amongst her traveling companions. No armor or a sword in sight.

As befit the occasion, she was wearing more formal dress, of an Asgardian style. The gown was a green, flowing in folds and layers to the floor. It was belted at the waist, the golden belt having a few Asgardian designs etced into it. She too was keeping to the back of the crowd, blending with the people as she sipped from a flute of champagne.

Thor has posed:
    The skald continued with his tale, starting to offer words to the travels to Northfort and its environs, the aid of the young prince Frikke, and continuing on to the tale of how the Figurehead of Vanir was recovered by a trio of adventurers led by the fair warrior Sif. Colorful little images of them created around him as he speaks, mentioning their trials and travails.
    Around the room people move about the small circles gathered. The aforementioned prince Frikke returns the wave with an animated smile in Thea's direction. Some look upon the items of resonance, while others consider the ocean and the people. There is a feeling of portent in the air, potential, as if the very world were holding its breath. Which might well convey some anxiety to others.
    Catching sight of Steve, Thor lifts his own glass in greeting and smiles as he moves along, pausing near to Zatanna as he murmurs with a calm tone. "You will do fine, I have every confidence."
    A few small words given then he steps forward and holds a hand up to silence the skald, though Aerich looks slightly displeased... he bows to the prince and steps down off the dais. Which is when Thor steps up and looks around. "Good people!" His voice carries, the sound of the ocean around them a living vibrant thing.
    "It has been a journey has it not?"
    There's a rough chortle from Eitri as he stands there on the edge near to Colborn.
    "We have taken on challenges, both with blades sheathed and drawn. With hands open and truth in our hearts. And it has brought us here." He spreads his hands out, gesturing with the glass.
    "What started as an idle musing was refined by minds quicker than my own. And through their wisdom was brought here to this point. We scoured the nine realms to find these items and bring them together in the hope to make our existence safer in these shared planes. And now with the aid of Zatanna, we shall join them together."
    At that he gives a nod to Zatanna, then steps down off the dais as he cedes the show to her.

Colborn has posed:
    Not seeking glory or credit n any of this, Colborn still holds his tongue while observing. He takes a sip of his mead and doesn't even move from where he stands. It is like he is more of a statue than a man.

    Except for the whole... taking a sip of his drink. I mean he doesn't hold so still that he becomes invisible. That's just silly thinking right there. But either way, he is recording the events via Mother Box. Just for the sake of posterity. And also so that he can share the recordings with fellow Etnals that they may become aware of the goings on of Midgard.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The response of Steve Rogers to Red Arrow suggesting sharing stories on meeting Asgardians is to chuckle quietly and move his free hand to rub at his jaw as if pained. "Count me in on that. Mine will involve Mjolnir ringing my shield so hard I thought I was going to lose a couple of molars from the ensuing vibration and shock wave."

Obviously whatever might have come to pass to cause Thor's hammer to strike Captain America's shield was put behind them. "Maybe wine instead?" Steve suggests to Lara. "If that's to your liking more than mead. Just don't try Thor's ale unless you don't have plans for the following morning. And day," he warns in a quiet, amused voice that seems to speak from experience.

The approach of Jane Foster draws a smile from Steve as he greets her. "Agent Foster. Glad I was able to assist. Though it's clear that quite a lot more was done to make all of this happen," he says, motioning towards the artifacts of which he only helped recovering the eeriest one. "Yes, good to see it reaching it's conclusion," he says. "Hopefully this will help avert some of the kinds of problems there have been in the past."

Steve doesn't get a chance to greet Sif just yet as Thor starts talking to the group as a whole. But he lifts his glass of mulled cider towards the Asgardian woman as if in promise of a more proper greeting when he'll be able to give it.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara laughs softly at Steve and Sneaky-Thea as she decides on a drink... "Wine. I do like wine, but perhaps Cider will do for tonight. I had some of that before, and it was quite excellent..." She states on that truly important subject.

Once her drink is gathered up, Lara raises it up to sip from it, and its then that she just so happens to see the Smith himself trying to immidate a statue not TOO far away, and she lowers her glass, raises her free hand, and casts a spell in the form of a 'simple wave' to Colborn.

Her eyes dart back to when Jane arrives, and Lara smiles toward her too. "Agent." She says with a playful edge, before her stare goes to Thor as he's soon to speak up.

"I do wish I'd been able to help with all of the recovered items, it was... God, a great experience to get to delve in to a bit of legendary tales, the things I read about so early in life, now having all new context..."

Her cider is sipped again then.

Thea Queen has posed:
There's a brief laugh as Steve explains his meeting with Thor and Red Arrow leans forward. "The Good Prince is known to swing that hammer first and ask questions later." this said in a low whisper as if she was sharing this big secret no one knew about.

Yet now they are finally at the party. Mead! Wine! She goes with water and greets Jane with a nod. "Jane. Here we go again, mmm?" she tells the other woman, lifting her water in a toast at her and then taking a brief sip.

Eyes continue to roam and ... Hold up. Is that Sif on a dress? Well, well, well. She will wait if/when Sif might glance their way to mouth 'shopping spree' in her direction and taking another drink from her horn.

"Sometimes I still feel I am in a dream." Sneaky-Thea says to Lara in agreement about their experiences in retrieving the items. But once Thor gets up to talk and Zatanna gets the ritual underway she is silent, watching curiously.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna's sapphire eyes lid for a moment as she takes a deep breath, listening to Thor outline their adventures into the Nine Realms in a few elegant words. The air shimmers with possibility behind her closed eyes, every realm but a breath away and so distant that it would take ages to cross them without the Bifrost.

At Thor mentioning her name brings her back to the now, her eyes open, smiling as she dips her head to him. A few steps take her to his side.

"Your endeavors have brought us to this moment." Her eyes search among the crowd, falling on Colborn, then Jane Foster, lingering on Sif with a smile, then on to Thea Queen. Finally, with a slight turn of her head, she finds Captain America and Lara, each, in turn, receiving a slight nod.

Holding up her arms, a ribbon of light glimmers into existence over their heads. Shifting like the Northern Lights, it descends slowly to wrap the objects that have been brought to the Hall, the seeds of resonance that will join the realms to Midgard.

Jane Foster has posed:
"A great deal happened. I need to hear about the ship from the source." Lady Sif is put on notice by the Mother of Orphans. One day soon, a tale to be had! She raises her shoulder in a light shrug, pleased enough. "You made an impression. In fact..."

Facts won't be said straight away. Not simply doctor, having a different title in mixed company still has a tendency of throwing Jane. It takes her a moment to realize Lara's talking to her, then she settles a laugh. "Quite something. I'm curious, and feel free to tell me to push off. Did participating in the epics make you want to write a book about them or simply find more?" She busies herself with fetching a glass of the nearest drink at hand to have something to toast Thea and, by turns, Thor and the skald with. The two deserve their dues, after all. She oohs into her drink as Zatanna's ritual begins, following the soft brushstrokes of luminescence filling the open space. A salute to Thor there, as it's begun.

Before Zatanna really gets fired up, a spool of frigid mist spills out from the periphery, probably upsetting any elves or Eternal nearby. Old magic; jotun but weirder, for those who feel it. The air smells simply cold around the portal that opens for a very tall figure in a sumptuous black hooded cloak. One sinewy blue-tattooed hand clutches a golden flagon last conjured up by a wizard, and it's conspicuously down to the last dregs. Ominous being all in shadow and a head taller than most people. Whispers may follow along with oaths or threats, but she's almost never spotted away from her post.

Twinned snow-white braids sway as Modgud spots Sif. Double-takes. Sif in a dress? Sif in a dress. Modgud sidles that way to ask, "Wizard's work at a celebration?" Her whisper is quiet impressive for a giantess who utterly terrifies the monsters that haunt Niflheim's cold annex. Her hood shifts, lips lifted. "All polished up, a fine warrior." Gloved hand goes to her heart, mead and all. "You plan on finally making that exchange? You're worth it!" Maybe Sif's Maybelline!

Sif has posed:
As Thor begins to speak, the crowd pays a bit more attention. Some had been listening to the skald but others had focused more on conversation or looking at the new area setup to appreciate the artistic merits. But now the conversations still are there for some but they are lowered tones, muted. Others stop entirely and press forward as they gravitate in the direction of the speaker.

Sif catches sight of the lifted glass by Steve and lifts her own in return. Which is when she sees Thea. And the look on her face, despite the costume. Sif has to smile as she sees the words mouthed, giving a little shake of her head as Thea is simply incorrigible. Sif begins to make her way over toward her fellow adventurers through the crowd. Slow going as she's paying attention to Thor as he continues to speak. When Zatanna is mentioned, she looks to her and gives the woman a quick encouraging smile.

And that is the moment Modgud arrives right next to her. Sif pauses, looking up at the giantess' and a bit unprepared. She hated surprises. "I did not realize you would be able to attend. Well met, Modgud." She glances back to the front where Thor and Zatanna have the attention of the crowd before looking to the blue skinned woman once more. "I will pass on the exchange. Though the wizards will be helping with the ceremony. To create the links needed with the objects we obtained. I do thank you for your cooperation when we visited your realm."

Thor has posed:
    The sea roils around them, and those stars shine high above. Almost like some druidic gathering giving honor to the natural world. It is a fine tableau on which the sorceress can work her magic, a perfect setting beneath the sky for the arcane arts to be so displayed.
    As the magic begins one can feel that potential in the air grow stronger, goosebumps become an easily felt thing manifesting on the flesh of those so susceptible. It is not as blatant as some spells perhaps, not as filled with pyrotechnics, but a hint of a weaving can be seen in the air as small tendrils between objects connect each other.
    There is the fragment of Buri's shield that holds some prominence as the first. Then the weaving blurs toward the cannon that the Jotun surrendered after the tug. OF WAR. Two necklaces shared a place near, one red and one gold as the magic slithered around them slowly. The figurehead from the ancient Vanir ship is the largest of the resonants and is a strong wooden warrior maiden with sword drawn that must have led those sailors onward. There was something that was held within its own case, something that seemed to hold some ill for few people lingered near, yet the magic encircled it as well. An Asgardian helm torn from the head of an enemy was enchanted. Then it all curls around that grand crest that was forged by Colborn and the dwarfs of Nidavellir.
    Storied elements all, with their connection between the worlds that now serves to join them as Zatanna works her magic.

Colborn has posed:
    Soon to be more than the sum of their parts. That itself is the real magic. At least as far as Colborn believes, while sorcery is real, true magic is in the efforts, the journey... the shared experiences that make a story into an adventure, and an adventure into legend.

    He looks over to see Zatanna doing her thing, and yet he remains quiet still. No sense interrupting the proceedings, or breaking the focus of anyone involved in them. So he just stands witness to the ceremony... to the -event-. For it cannot be anything less than an event. Such a word sums it all up... and Colborn's reserve breaks for just a moment, a smile threatening to break out onto his face.

Steve Rogers has posed:
As the overt magic begins, Steve Rogers can't help but tense a little bit. To him, magic was something that Hydra did, that had to most often be countered with conviction and determination. And often a risk of one's life. Though he knows this to be done by far more trustworthy and benign individuals, that old twist of his stomach he used to get when confronting the Red Skull's latest stratagems can't help but be felt just a little bit.

He leans over nearer to Lara to say quietly to not interrupt the magic going on, "I'd like to hear about your adventures related to this. I'm hoping you had a bit more picturesque place you journeyed to than I."

Steve takes a sip of his mulled cider then. A respectful nod is given to the giantess when she arrives, though he doesn't go over to speak to her, instead watching the goings on.

Damn he wishes he'd brought his shield. Just to be sure.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara holds her cider glass between her fingers, her eyes on Thor as he finishes up his speech, then she regards Jane, and her question. It makes her laugh softly, shortly, before she just smiles. "Maybe some day. I hope to build up a larger catalogue of stories before I try and put them down to paper. But, assuredly these would be great ones to keep ... records of, if, if nothing else."

Steve's whispered words to her, has Lara showing him a slight grin. She leans back toward him and speaks lowly. "I'll tell you about the boar hunt, and the rather uppity Elf who gave me a kiss afterward." She says to him with a playful edge to her voice before she sips her cider again, and watches Zatanna do, what the magical woman is so excellent at. Magic is quickly becoming a common-place thing to observe for Lara now, but being apart of the Wizardry division of SHIELD has that effect for one's life.

Thea Queen has posed:
For all that Thea tries to hide there will always be that little girl fascination about magic. It draws her into witnessing the magic being crafted with a fascination that the domino mask does little to hide, blue eyes dancing. But more than magic it had been the culmination of adventures to a goal they are now achieving. And that -meant- something.

Not that fascination means remaining idle, she leaving the horn behind to take a walk around. She spots a man a bit on the outskirts holding a pug and looking nervously onto the proceedings. Almost like a fish out of water! She nears the man, tapping him on the shoulder and whispers. "It was good that you found the courage to be here tonight." in reassurance. The man just pushes his glasses up on his face a bit and smiles but nods without saying nothing.

Eventually Thea comes to settle near the young Frikke and sits down on the ground next to him, winking at the young boy.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna lowers her arms, making an open-handed gesture to each treasure brought from the realms. As the shimmering golden light touches the cannon, there is a faint booming sound of ice vibrating under a footstep. Cold air flows to the ground, palpable to those close to it. The ship's figurehead brightens, its colors vibrant as it is wrapped in light, the sword's edge glinting sharply. The red necklace glows molten, the air above it shivering with heat. It lays crystal droplets of igneous fire on its stand.

Shifting slightly in place the magician weaves the ribbons of light around the golden necklace, the gift of Alfheim, which seems to glow with its own magic. The warrior's helm's high polish reflects the ribbons of magic in its metal, as does the crest, etched with the symbols of the three realms.

The mage takes a deep restorative breath, concentrating intently as she widens her hands, then brings them slowly together into a single stream that will anchor the objects to Midgard.

Deep beneath the ocean, sea creatures will see the ley lines running beneath the starport glow - Midgard's magic awakening to bond with the resonant objects.

Jane Foster has posed:
Modgud's sense of propriety wins out. "I ran out of mead. I heard of this //thing//, and why not come see what it's about?" she whispers, surprisingly quiet for being a spooky figure in a gloomy black cloak. The hood doesn't stay up fully as she watches the lights melt around different treasures. Dark metal and leather bracers shine as she looks hopefully in her goblet. "Wizard business after. Let them know I asked for them?" The stock-still giantess takes everything in without moving too much. Dropping in for a round and hieing off might not be so cool by Aesir standards or possibly it is. How would the goddess guarding the Gjallarbru be certain to know what mortal or Vanir or Asgardian party customs are?

A bit of mead, not drank, will serve as a salute and something to occupy Jane's hands with. Ritual magic requires as little interference from her as possible, and the alert stance of her posture would suggest a kind of tension. Sharply drawn lines tug her spine straight. Her eyes are fully on Zatanna, and she spares a soft, "I'll ask you to sign a copy if you publish," for Lara. Lara's adventures are legendary, after all. Shimmering ocean details ignited by the heavens above link all sorts of details together, and she can't help but ease away from the table with drinks. Destination? Unknown, though circumnavigating the stage upon which the homo magi makes her grand reveals.

Sif has posed:
"I will let them know. There is plenty to refill your goblet if you wish? Asgardian ale perhaps?" Sif says to Modgud. But then she is utterly distracted when Zatanna does her work.

As the magic flows from object to object, enhancing the qualities of them, bringing new life to some of the more antique, Sif's breath catches. She has been raised around magic her entire life but something about this moment is simply visually breathtaking. Unlike others, she is not sensitive to magic so she doesn't have a physical feel for the changes in the air.

It doesn't change that it is just beautiful to watch. That seeing the final light as they are approaching the end of what has been quite the journey. Tales to be told for the ages that had all led to this moment.

Thor has posed:
    As Zatanna brings those tendrils together, the connections seeming to become easier the more she weaves, there is a tumult in the ocean as waves begin to break higher upon the metal outcroppings of that platform. Above the stars flicker, their ancient light still shining down upon the heroes and those gathered in celebration.
    It's as she begins to draw the spell to a close that Zatanna will feel the draw of each item, those memories of each and their connections becoming more prominent as around them flashes of light reminiscent of their tales can be seen. Buri's shield gleams where it struck in defense against a Svartalfar's blade. The figurehead's eyes glow. And that box of dark and ill omen seems to surge with shadow.
    Though there is an instant as Thor watches that one of the tendrils reaches out toward him, unbidden by the sorceress... only to collapse almost instantly.
    Which is when the lights go out.
    Or perhaps not the glowing spheres illuminating the gathering. But above all of the stars are suddenly gone. Not a single flicker of light. No hint of the world beyond.
    Yet what is more, there is silence. No longer laps the ocean's waves at the metal platform. No longer is there the scent of the sea in the air. It is as abrupt as it is complete. Leaving the gathering in a moment that slowly gathers in tension as people start to wonder.
    Eitri's voice lifts as he says loudly, "What's going on?"
    As Thea steps past good Hobbson and then moves toward where Frikke and Dorin stand as they watch the proceedings, she smiles and winks at the youth who returns her smile as well. "Hello, Thea."
    Stepping to the side he pats Dorin on the shoulder as if to get the man's attention. The seneschal leans down, "Yes, my lord?"
    And with that same smile, Frikke says quietly just so Thea can hear. "I really do regret them. Sometimes."
    And that is the moment when Frikke's dagger finds itself in the side of Dorin's neck, blade slashing deep and a spray of blood fountaining forth.
    Just as Frikke murmurs a little louder with his eyes a little wild, "I do."
    Then he turns to run.

Colborn has posed:
    As the lights go out, there is a half-ping... literally cut off in mid-ping from the place where Colborn stands. It's actually a bit louder than normal, and he lifts his brows, looking to his smartwatch. He tilts his head and then holds his hand out.

    After a moment, his eyes narrow. And then his eyes flicker up towards the dwarves. The fleeing would-be-assassin gets his attention, and without his armory being accessible, he goes for brute force. A pulse of golden cosmic power flings from his hand, aimed at the feet of the fleeing Frikke. "Help Dorin!" he cries out as he is suddenly moving towards the fleeing Frikke... his first blast likely wouldn't be enough to trip the guy up for good, but Colborn is in the air, soaring towards the runaway... angling to intercept him.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers continues to watch the magic while leaning down so Lara can speak quietly back to him without having to crane her head up towards his ear so much. At what she says, he turns his head slowly, blue eyes giving her a look of deep examination. Slowly he lets that expression lapse, Steve standing up straight again as he gives a few little nods. "I understand. Competition from the other realms," he replies to her quietly before stealing a glance back over at her, his lips turned up just slightly at the corners. "I can be up to the challenge," he tells Lara in a lighthearted tone.

The merry twinkle in his eyes fades though as something seems to happen with the magic that, at least for Steve Rogers, is unexpected. He becomes more serious, looking at Thor and Zatanna to judge from their reactions whether this was intended or if something has gone wrong.

He's too late spotting the stab of the knife to anything. But as the assailant begins to flee, Steve leaps into action, going after him. Not knowing for sure what is going on yet, he knows a man bent on doing murder might harm those who might get in his way whether on accident or of purpose.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara is grinning at the others around her, with her eyes on Zatanna, when things seem to start going rapidly downhill. Lights going off, the soudns of a scuffle, and then Lara sees it. Not a second later, and there's people moving quickly, Steve being one of them.

She didn't have her sidearm on her. She'd checked it in at the SHIELD hangar exit with some of the Port security... regrets.

Lara sets down her drink then and starts to reach for her phone to see if she's got a signal out... here.

Thea Queen has posed:
Those words are too familiar to be coincidence and even if the voice isn't the same Thea's blue eyes widen as she realizes what is happening. In days to come she may regret not having brought a weapon with her to this celebration. Foolish. So she can only watch almost as if in slow motion as that knife cuts through Dorin's neck.

She is springing up to her feet a couple of moments later. Too late to catch hold of the fleeing assassin but that's not who she goes for. Instead she jumps towards the fallen Dorin. There -is- a lot of blood. And if anything Thea can see when a wound of that kind is deadly. It doesn't stop her from pressing her hands to the neck to stop the bleeding. Or at least hold it long enough that perhaps someone can intercede and heal the man. She is among GODS after all.

"We need a healer here!" She calls out to anyone that can hear, voice trembling just so. But now she has gotten into a mechanical, no thinking mode.

She will worry with the aftermath and the consequences later.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
As heavy as a funeral cloth laid across a coffin, darkness snuffs out sight and sound. Only the objects wrapped in Zatanna's weaving still glow, the illumination as weak as a lantern in deep fog.

Zatanna gasps, stiffening as a pall smothers her magic under ash. Hands pressed against her chest she labors for a full breath, then reaches out a hand to Thor, still struggling to breathe. .

"What? What?" she stammers. "Thor, could this your brother's doing?

The coppery smell of blood hangs heavy in the air and she can only dimly see figures surging around someone on the floor. In her concentration on weaving the objects together, she missed the knife blow.

With a snap of her fingers, she attempts to bring light back into the room. She might as well be trying to light a candle with a wet match. A flame stutters at her finger tips and goes out.

Jane Foster has posed:
The party turns dark and uncanny. By Modgud's standards, hardly too odd at all. Dismay proves audible in a sibillant hiss behind clenched teeth, lips curled in a sneer. She spends precious seconds tucking the wizard's mead goblet onto her belt under the voluminous cloak. No cold air pools around her feet. Jackfrost spreads out enough to make the ground slippery but she isn't raising a callused blue finger to help. Yet.

Jane manages not to stumble completely to her knees, hem caught under her toes and fully torn. Asgardian fabric isn't immune to carelessness. She reaches out to balance herself on whomever is there, muttering apologies at the expense of her own dignity. Alarm tightens painfully on her bicep tight enough to cut off circulation, if it were actually an issue. Thea's voice calling out in the dark gives a direction to hone in on. Violet limns her vision, dragging her inexorably that way. "I'm coming. If we've any healing magic, use it first! Ow." Sorry, person who ran into her. Every few steps means bumping someone, something, a salmon forced to swim upstream with punishing effect. "Pardon, let me through, please." Without light, all she has to see by is bestowed by the kenning, distinguishing the rising threats to someone's everlasting life. She'll get there, one way or another, ripping part of her ruined skirt free to act as bandages. Battlefield medicine and triage are something she /is/ trained in, guiding them a stable place. "Old Greybeard, of all the days not to have Idunn or Jemma around..."

Sif has posed:
She should've worn her armor. It's an odd thought that flits through Sif's mind as she watches the magic shifting and flowing. As the glow that had enhanced each item shifted a bit into something else. An odd thought in truth until she sees that dark tendril move toward Thor.

Then there were the screams, snapping her head in the direction of Thea and Dorin. And the fleeing Frikke. Only others are after that fleeing figure already.

The world has shifted. The silence around them and lack of stars is a mystery that she doesn't have time to think about. Her attention turns back to those artifacts.

She strides toward the front display, reaching down to her skirt and ripping off one of the layers of material. To reveal her sword. She draws it in a smooth movement. Her steps are taking her toward Thor and Zatanna, and those artifacts.

Because did anyone really think Sif would be here without a weapon?

Thor has posed:
    There's the flash of energy across the distance at the edge of the crowd. Being near there, Colborn has a straight line at the fleeing Frikke whose feet are blasted out from underneath him, sending him /skidding/ forth across the ground where his shoulder impacts /heavily/ with the metal abutment.
    Yet the boy of some eleven years of age? Perhaps twelve. He laughs, a raucous laugh as he pushes himself to his feet.
    Dorin still holds himself up with one hand, fingers splayed upon the ground. His other hand reaches to try and hold to the wound yet not withdraw the knife. His brow is furrowed in concentration as the dour warrior tries to focus as if trying by pure mental will to stop the flow of blood.
    It is not working.
    Eitri and his comrades start to move to help Thea, one tearing off a piece of his tunic to try and create a makeshift bandage. The other moves to the side to give room for Jane to make it through, offering these words, "Careful of the blade, don't remove it yet!"
    Then Cap hurtles toward the child in the red garb of Asgard. It's a rough impact, a tackle that takes them half over the edge of that platform. The small figure of the Asgardian boy seems to slither and melt, becoming instead the powerful form of a curiously lithe troll who simply cackles as he's taken down, laughing uproariously as he proclaims, "It was worth it. Oh so worth it!"
    Though in that moment Steve's attention might not be on him, for beyond... it seems as if the ocean has evaporated. Dry loamy earth instead leads up toward the edge of that platform creating almost a cliff-face. Steve is the first to see what lies before them in down that hill side, for toward the surface of what was once the ocean bed there is now a seething mass of figures. Glowing red eyes, great and small creatures... from giants in great armor to elves in masks and dark gear. Not hundreds. But thousands in their number.
    Colborn is next to see it, but the others not on the edge of the platform will instead see the rush of a great winged shape slice up into the sky from right next to where Cap and Frikke and now Colborn struggle. A winged black menacing silhouette, draconic and severe with wide wings hurtles upward into the inky blackness of the sky, its own dark scales almost disappearing in that dimness. Then it is joined by another that twists into flight, a second dragon that roars with such utter hatred. Some of the heroes there will recognize those two, for one carries the scars of battle upon its face. But they were three in number.
    The fate of the third is revealed, however, as distantly a gigantic throne composed of bones and the twisted remains of that third dragon floats high up into the sky. A seat of such sorcerous power glowing with powerful magicks supporting a wan pale being.
    Thor turns toward Zatanna as she recovers, his brow furrowing as he looks distantly at the figure. There's a soft /whom/ of sound as Mjolnir leaps into his hand and he frowns most sternly. "I am afraid, good Zatanna, that this time 'tis not my brother's doing."
    As if in answer to Thor's words, the thin figure with features split light on one side, dark on the other, rises. Those who have never seen him will only know him as an elvish horror. Others will know him by his name. Malekith.

Colborn has posed:
    "Well, a dragon. And my sword sealed away and unreachable. This is not the most ideal situation." says Colborn calmly as he watches the draconic form lift up into the air. "Still. It could be worse." he admits.

    He looks left, then right to make sure no allies are in danger of falling off of the cliff, and then his eyes traverse back towards the hordes of enemies.

    "Good Captain. I am Colborn, Eternal of Titanos. It seems only right that two who stand side by side against foes such as these should at least be not strangers."

    That said, his eyes begin to glow with golden power, and then as his eyes, so do his fists. "It looks like this will be a battle for the ages."

    "Sorceress! I am nbot telling you how to do your job, but perhaps the power within all of the relics could be put to use here?!" he calls back over his shoulder towards Zatanna.

Lara Croft has posed:
With some measure of field medical skills, Lara considdrs going up to help with the victim, but he seems to have some talented assistance already. As such, Lara stuffs her phone in to her pocket, no signal, of course, and starts to rush after where she'd seen Steve last.

But when she reaches the edge of the platform, her eyes cast over it when she sees others doing the same, and it makes her pause at the sight which she sees.

"I think we've made a mistake here..." Lara quietly whispers to herself before she pushes off to go in search of something to defend herself with, let alone everyone else who may likely be in imminent danger now...

Thea Queen has posed:
There is a lot of blood gushing out but the knife is still in there so -maybe- there's a chance. Thea is no stranger to battlefield medical care either after all. Too many times getting her brother fixed up after he gets a close encounter with danger. Or even fixing herself up.

Yet with so many getting closer it means she is finally able to take her hands out of Dorin's neck, gloves dripping with blood. Jane's approach is met with a sharp nod. "I never thought he'd do something like this.." she murmurs, mostly to herself. It's when her eyes swing over to look at Korek out there, laughing like a maniac, and the portal that shows all those creatures...

And here she is without her bow. Small blessings that she brought her armored suit at least. For as much as it will help her in this but .... vengeance calls her now. And like her real father had said vengeance can be a feeling that fuels us to new heights.

Maybe it was time she started listening to Malcolm Merlyn more.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The disorientation is dizzying. Zatanna remains on the dais, trying to summon her innate magic. It is like being wrapped in magical chains and lowered upside down into a water tank. Where is Houdini to help her now?

Biting her bottom lip hard in concentration, a vee of worry wrinkles her forehead as she casts a spell to find the source of the disruption.

#-1 FUNCTION (ANSI,) NOT FOUND DID YOU MEAN 'ANSI' (Who or what is the source of this darkness?)

Below her the room erupts into motion, a lightening flash from Colborn directed at a fleeing figure.

Zatanna's mouth opens in shock, then she shouts her defiance of the black magic meant to kill their glorious undertaking.

A noisome smell of dark magic wafts from the dragon wings ascending to the throne of bones. Her eyes widen, and she unconsciously shakes her head in denial at who faces them - the thirteenth son of the thirteenth son of darkness himself.

Colborn's words are true, but the darkness dims her powers. "I won't let him ruin these treasures or the portals," she says, arms extended as she reaches for the magic encapsulated in the objects brought back from the quests.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The disorientation is dizzying. Zatanna remains on the dais, trying to summon her innate magic. It is like being wrapped in magical chains and lowered upside down into a water tank. Where is Houdini to help her now?

Biting her bottom lip hard in concentration, a vee of worry wrinkles her forehead as she casts a spell to find the source of the disruption.

"?ssenkrad siht fo ecruos eht si tahw ro ohW" (Who or what is the source of this darkness?)

Below her the room erupts into motion, a lightening flash from Colborn directed at a fleeing figure.

Zatanna's mouth opens in shock, then she shouts her defiance of the black magic meant to kill their glorious undertaking.

A noisome smell of dark magic wafts from the dragon wings ascending to the throne of bones. Her eyes widen, and she unconsciously shakes her head in denial at who faces them - the thirteenth son of the thirteenth son of darkness himself.

Colborn's words are true, but the darkness dims her powers. "I won't let him ruin these treasures or the portals," she says, arms extended as she reaches for the magic encapsulated in the objects brought back from the quests.

Jane Foster has posed:
Few occasions merit being glad to be up to her own wrists in blood. Jane can lose herself in the process brought up by rote recitation, hammered into her skull and refreshed regularly. "You," she tells the nearest of Eitri's companions, "get him to the wall. Now! His head must remain above his heart."

Thea is another matter, someone easy to direct with certain instructions while the chaos erupts. "Keep your hands tight beside the blade. Push hard as you can on the skin, not the knife. Use your whole palm. More strength, more force." No need to panic, despite flares exploding around, bursts of rage and terror from a full army besieging her psyche. The mechanical motions accelerate in pace, imperfect but functional, addressing Dorin as much as Eitri. "This will hurt. Hurt means you're alive. What a story you're going to have to tell." Two hard yanks tear Dorin's shirt further for access. Cloth offered up by the dwarves, even from her gown, is stuffed in where she can avoid dislodging the knife. "It's penetrated the carotid sheath space. All eyes down here." Fabric acts as a barrier to her fingers and the knife as she forces more cloth in, acting as a clotting mechanism.

Palms and digits slippery from life's blood she wipes off on her pretty dress, more authentically Aesir by the moment. She feels for the torn hemline, more specifically the seam held together by blue thread. Fumbling to pull a piece long enough to be useful for makeshift sutures wastes more seconds, ticked done one by one. Somehow Jane blindly threads a small, perfectly plain steel needle, likely left in her gown.

Finally she dares a look away to the commotion that engulfs the others. In her clear eyes is wrought truth even the Norns cannot unweave with their shears.

Violet death.

Sif has posed:
It goes from bad to worse. Sif grips that sword, once again wishing she had worn her armor. But one did what one could with what they had at hand. Just, what she was wearing was not particularly resistant nor protective. Looked great, sure. But it wouldn't be blocking any blades or bows!

Then the dragons appear. Dragons who seem none-too-happy. Considering their last encounter with the beasts, that isn't surprising. Two? Not three?

Then the third one appears. Or at least the remains of the third one. Which has been transformed into the throne which Malekith recilnes upon.

Malekith. Her heart sinks upon seeing him. She frowns darkly, shifting her sword. A moment later, it has been extended into a lance form as she eyes the dragons. In preparation for Round 2.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Grappling with what had appeared to be the Asgardian child, now disarmed, Steve Rogers looks below and grows still as he sees the assembled army. Blue eyes widen further at the dragons that rise into the sky, and then finally the figure of Malekith as he rises up before this dread army of doom. Steve Rogers lets out a soft, tired-sounding sigh.

"I really should have brought my shield."