12892/Resonants: Finale Pt. 2

Resonants: Finale Pt. 2
Date of Scene:	15 October 2022
Location:	Central Gardens - Atlantic Starport
Synopsis:	The battle with Malekith raged, and in the end the heroes were victorious. But at a cost as Mjolnir was destroyed. And Thor lost.
Cast of Characters:	Thor, Colborn, Steve Rogers, Lara Croft, Loki, Thea Queen, Zatanna Zatara, Sif, Jane Foster, Stephen Strange
Tinyplot:	Resonants

---

Thor has posed:
    Across the distance in the bitter dark of the absent starlight, the grim hoard awaits. Crimson eyes glow, armor scrapes against armor, and monstrosities call their clarion cry as down in the depths of what had been ocean stands now an army of malicious repudiation set against the light.
    Horrors are seen in their ranks. They are monstrosities remembered in legend, spoken of in fear, or lost to all save as perhaps a racial memory of a thing that would hide on the edge of firelight. Jotuns stand tall, twisted towering things from ages past. While at their feet surge the tides of the Svartalfar with their armored forms and their masks that all present the same face to their enemies.
    It is a formidable gathering of malice and hate, all raised to the blaze of an inferno by the twin dragons circling high above, gauged by their ruler who sits in that draconic skeletal throne.
    Around the heroes there is so little light, provided by the faint glows of those spheres that provide illumination for the starport and that had been brought with them. Though at the edge of that platform, standing there looking upon the vast army that is arrayed against them is Thor. Son of Odin. And from that mystic hammer in his hand shines a singular blue light.
    There is a soft chuckle that comes from him, a shake of his head as he looks out over the ocean lost and replaced with soul-shattered hate. It's a small laugh that grows a little, then he turns his head and speaks.
    "My friends." Thor's gaze turns to them, all while behind him whirls the flight of dragons. "I owe you an apology."
    He looks back toward the hoard, taking a deep breath as he shakes his head. Then slowly he exhales as he murmurs, "I had thought that our time together, that our heroic journey would lead us to something worthy of a true epic. A tale meant for the ages. Only for us to be beset upon by... this?"
    Mjolnir hums softly as he gestures with it, motioning to the horrors as his voice rises. "I thought to myself that perhaps we would face a true army worthy of our attention! But instead? We get this. Outcasts and failures. Weakness and low character given form!"
    As he says this there's a roar and a murmur from the hoard below, for in this quiet his words carry. He turns and shouts, "I mean failed warleaders such as YOU, Jorn Icewielder! I see you hiding down there!"
    He turns back and says to the heroes, "This is no worthy challenge, nothing that shall take us to Valhalla. For this is not our time. So I have decided." He looks back, "We are going to crush this army. And we are going to live."
    Thor turns back and smiles, "So again, you have my apologies."
    And as he says that the monsters below howl in anger and frustration even as the horror on the throne raises a mailed fist and closes it. Which draws silence from them.
    But Thor walks back toward the crowd and looks between Zatanna and Sif as Jane and Thea tend to the fallen. His eyes find Steve's and there's a true apologetic glance as he does seem to hold a touch of sorrow. A glance given to Lara, but more perhaps in a silent message to Steve. Then he claps his hands together...
    "Well then. Let us make ready."

Colborn has posed:
    Eyes glowing with a golden light, the light of creation, the energy of the cosmos, Colborn also has the same glow emanating from his hands... hands that are closed in fists as he stands beside Steve Rogers, the famed Captain America.

    Deep in his soul, he has made the decision that he will do his best to shield those mortals present. But... cosmic power in its pure and raw form. Power that others can make better use of. He smirks a bit and takes a step back from the front line. Let the enemies think him a coward. Let them dismiss him. He turns and trots towards Zatanna. "Can you draw upon the cosmic energy of the universe to work your magicks?" he asks. "If so, then consider me a capacitor for such power... and draw it freely from me.... empower defenses for the mortals present that they may survive this. And perhaps you could manifest a shield for the good Captain?" he asks as energy flows freely from him, bathing the elemental sorceress in the purest form of cosmic energy... concentrated through his cells.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve Rogers's eyes look over the horde as he still lies there on the platform where he tackled the one who had posed as Frikke. A cackling comes from that captive, lasting for only as long as it takes Steve to pull his arm back and land a crushing elbow to the half-troll's head.

Steve rises to his feet then, grabbing the unconscious assassin and twirling once like a discuss thrower before heaving him further in from the edge of the platform where he won't be in the way. Steve moves back to where the others are gathered, moving over to Lara's side. "If I can take a weapon away, something with range, I'll try to get it to you," he tells her before lifting his eye back to the impending horde. "Though it may be difficult," he says, gauging the height of the ice giants who stand four or five stories tall in some cases.

He gives her a last look and then moves to the forefront. "They'll be disappointed if they get past us and find out they are too early for Trick or Treating. So I guess none can get past us then," he says, glancing over to Thor and giving him the kind of reassuring nod that has instilled confidence in troops from Normandy to New York.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara reaches Steve's side, just as he's speaking of the weapons offered, should he find any. She is giving another look around, concern strewn across her face. "I'll try and help those here stay together... but this is... we need to find a way to reverse it, send us back, as quickly as possible."

And just as Steve is making his way off, Lara calls out to him. "Be careful!" She shouts. Just as someone else flies in toward her out of no where.

IT's Teagan the Elf. The one that had given Lara a kiss in Alfheim. An archer also, the brave man just runs right up to Lara and thrusts a bow and arrow quiver at her. "Lady Croft! For this, I see you are in need." He says, wielding his own on his back. "We need all the best archers we have to be ready." He says before nodding once to her.

"For now, though, we fight. later, perhaps another kiss for our successful victory here that is to be!" Teagan says before bounding off to arm up others that he can see are in need.

Lara just accepts the bow, and huffs out a exhale at the Elf. "Right..." She says, glancing down at the weapons he'd given her. "Well, this should be interesting...." She says, slipping the Quiver on, and testing the bow, as she draws out one of the feathered arrow shafts.

Loki has posed:
** Elsewhere, in Asgard:**

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. Figure it out," Loki snaps at Heimdall. "They're not like some keys you lost in couch cushions like an idiot human."

The pair are in Asgard, debating over the weird events Heimdall is reporting. Heimdall's expression doesn't change, just remains a darkened, flat stare at Loki.

"No, they are not so easily lost," Heimdall says firmly, as the grave nature to this blindness weighs heavily on him. "Very few things can place a veil between my vision and Thor and Sif."

"Well, there ARE options, then. Use that voyeur experience." Loki responds with a flippant roll of his own eyes, to mask any particular stress or emotion he may be under, and cancelling the illusion he'd been using to annoyingly poke at Heimdall. He travels instead towards the palace itself physically, jaw tight, and green eyes sharp. Castle denizens get out of the way of the moody prince even more quickly than they might usually do.

Thea Queen has posed:
Swirling thoughts of revenge roam the young archer's mind while Thea watches Korek be knocked unconscious by Steve. She could kill him now, just get some silverware knife and saw his neck out. Yet even if she already imagines what happened with Frikke she can't dare to think it. So she chooses to believe she will be interrogating him later. Soon enough. And then ---

"Red Arrow. Red Arrow." Words sound distant as she is lost in her thoughts but Thea blinks those blue eyes and snaps back into reality. She feels a bow being put to her hand. A quiver in her front. Teagan the elf there. "For you, Lady." the elf solemn when he says those words.

No offer of a kiss though! Tsk tsk.

Thea picks the bow up almost numbly. It's a familiar feeling, one she finds comfort in, the grip of a bow so she focuses on that, then on Thor's boastful proclamation. The quiver is put on her back and she draws out a brilliant arrow from it, drawing it back with her full strength on the bow. She won't kill Korek just yet but it doesn't mean she can't begin hostilities.

She lets the magic arrow fly through the portal at the mass of creatures, pointing it right at the eye of a particularly large troll creature. Time to draw first blood.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
When her magic seemed to fail, and the lights dimmed, Zatanna had a moment of weakness like she had seldom experienced in her lifetime. The uncanny night covered the trembling of her knees. Hastily, she reviews the spell weaving the resonant objects together, sifting for the error she had made. None, just none. Is her thinking flawed? Is it pure hubris making her think that the spell was perfect in form?

They are no longer on earth, of that she is sure. Malekith's power had brought them to a place that devours magic like the monsters below them devour goodness and all that is straight and true.

The harmonics in the room feel strange. There is a discordance in the magic, a break in the weft. Not of her making. She raises her hands and tests the ribbons weaving the objects together, testing till she finds a gap. In the gap, stands the broad-shouldered form of Thor.

Frowning in puzzlement, she approaches him, asking him urgently, "Are you carrying something magic on you, Thor? Besides Mjolnir. Some object new to you? Some token?"

Around them, the resonant objects still glimmer. They glow with magic endowed on them by her spell. That gleam gives Zatanna a kernel of hope.

"I have an idea."

And without an explanation, the magician walks to the golden necklace gifted by the Light Elves of Alfheim, and stares at it. Hesitating between it and the box holding the Bifrost shard. She reaches out her hand to the box.

Sif has posed:
When everything had gone awry, Sif had joined Thor and Zatanna. Her purpose was to destroy an artifact they had so painstakingly gathered. Only it was too late. The trap had been sprung.

As she heard the speech from Thor, she could only laugh while shaking her head. Even in moments like this, he was incorrigible. But she knew that such words would help the others. Those who were innocents caught, that could not fight to protect themselves. It would rally those who could, give them the hope needed to face such odds.

She already had her sword in hand. Though she was still in that full-length gown. That would not do for more physical fighting. Reaching down, she caught the material and simply sliced through it. A moment later the skirt fell in fluttery layers to her feet, leaving the dress as a mini now. The length was about halfway down her thighs, revealing the stylish flat-soled boots she wore.

Now that she was prepared, she glanced to her fellow warriors. Then off to the distant threat with the circling dragons above.

Jane Foster has posed:
A slender needle divides the living and the dead. Jane holds the thread in her bloody hands to levy an uncertain remedy for a knife through Dorin's neck, relying on others to hold the hideous, cotton-stuffed gash long enough for her to start knotting pieces together. Hypovolemic shock lurks around the corner closer than any dread wyrm of skaldic epics or slavering beasts held on short leashes by dark elves. Bleeding from the injury site is severe, inhibiting any kind of neat work.

She shoves the needle through the artery, flesh passing for pointed steel and rough spun silk thread. She makes a knot, close and tight, snapping off the thread. The act repeats in a painful lattice of continuous suturing, inhibited by the ascending tide that leads to a call to war. She has neither crystalloid plasma or red blood cell packs to stabilize Dorian, only the crudest of tools, and a deliberate will.

No magic aids in the fight against her own Big Boss, the Endless who overrules either Old One-Eye who generally pay Jane's cheques. The battle is one predictably fought in ERs, on stretchers, beside battlefields throughout every realm. Instructions flow from her to the others, all the while the gaping margins around the knife closed up. Almost reluctantly, she folds sodden cotton spared from someone's shirt around the handle. A scramble when she draws it out; Eitri's men squeezing down to stop the projectile blood shooting out, Jane delving in with the needle to sew the holes shut and give someone a fighting chance to live.

Some distance away, the host of Svartalfheim is about to learn Modgud lives up to her name: Furious Battler. Helheim may be in total disarray but the giantess is the main line of defense against the dead from storming the realms of the living. She draws a mattle black, whorl-patterned blade from under that cloak - beside the wizard's mead cup - and promptly takes a dark elf from stem to stern in a sweep that severs the spine completely. The giantess kicks the corpse aside. "I faced greater threat from a children's crusade led by a goose."

Stephen Strange has posed:
** Meanwhile, back at the Sanctum Sanctorum **

One of those 'idiot humans' is also searching. Not for car keys in a sofa, but for signs of life from the seemingly vanished party. The Sorcerer Supreme, Stephen Strange, doesn't have anyone to blame, though, than himself. He didn't remain with the group. He wasn't there to prevent whatever malefice occurred to throw the group out of the Earth realm. For yes...they were most definitely not in his domain. Of that much, he is certain.

"Great, Stephen. How are you going to explain that you lost an entire entourage, including two Avengers?"

There is no answer within the halls of the Sanctum. Probably for the best. Stephen isn't in the proper mood for conversation anyways.

So, how to find them? There is so many different methods. So many multitudes of possibilities. So...what way?

A deep breath...and a centering of himself. Think, Strange. Why were they together in the first place? To form a link between realms. To create a safe path of travel. If the ritual had any success at all, then the artifacts gathered would be those guideposts. Perhaps...just perhaps....

But, which one should Stephen try to reach for? There are so many.

Simple. There is one that the sorcerer knows full well. For he has walked upon that path, unwillingly. So, as he sits in the middle of the floor, eyes closed to all around him, Steven concentrates....

And....searches for the fragment of Black Bifrost....

Thor has posed:
    A lone arrow flies fast and true through the air, hurtling down from the heights the defenders hold. It is almost invisible against the dark sky until it finds its home slicing in between the visor of one of the monstrosities far below. Its mournful wail is heard low and heavy as it bemoans its injury. Only then...
    High above them that fist in mail falls and with the call of warhorns the host starts forward. One can hear the heavy clank of armored footsteps, the loud /THOOM!/ of giant strides. There is the scream and cry as the dragons continue to circle though they do not dive. Not yet at the least.
    Time grows short as the first ranks reach the base of the loamy hill that leads up toward the platform the heroes hold. Ranks of dark elves with spear and shield are seen as they stride, and behind them are larger armored ogre-like creatures wielding giant two handed swords. Some of the skirmishers reach the walls and begin to scramble over their waist-high height. Only for one to find his life taken by the blade of Modgud as she lashes out with precision.
    Thor, for his part, listens with a steady nod as he looks to Zatanna. His blue eyes remained focused upon the woman as he watches then he frowns severely. "I fear I know what may have caused this, though it pains me to admit."
    And as he says that he slips a hand into his tunic and grasps a silver chain about his neck then yanks it off with a sharp snap. A ring with elvish script and of similar hue is held there on the end of the chain and he extends it toward the sorceress. "I fear this is the source of our woes. Make use of it as you can."
    The Thunderer then turns toward Steve and says firmly, "Captain. I will..." He looks up then murmurs, "Handle the dragons. And Malekith. You call for me if I am needed, and I will come."
    "Sif," For a moment he looks to her, then toward Korek. A silent message, but no more words.
    After that Mjolnir whirls with a steady thwum-thwum-thwum... and he takes flight.

Colborn has posed:
    Turning to look towards the Jotun breaking the defenses, Colborn narrows those glowing eyes. Skirmishers that are laid low by Modgud make Colborn bob his head in approval. And then the weapon dropped by a fallen skirmisher... a sword sized for close in work, three feet of steel... flies from the ground and finds itself held within the right hand of Colborn.

    And now it is time for pure brute force. Normally, he takes days to work metal right. . . Now it is not about working it right. It is about simply making the shape desired. A plate of armor flies from the same fallen skirmisher to join the sword in Colborn's hands... hands that glow with power as he grips them and begins shaping them like they were clay. .

    It does not take long before there is in essence trash can lid with handles. Okay, so it is a crude round shield. It even has a bit of a star on the front. What?

    "Captain! Incoming!" he calls out as he hurls the thing towards Captain America. Elfin and / or Asgardian steel reshaped to a crude version of the shield Cap is used to. Not really balanced well but hey, it's better than nothing. Right?

    He is telekinetically moving the thing towards Cap's hands.

    If there is one truth in the multiverse, it is that if Captain America has a shield in his hands, the odds of overall victory go up considerably.

    And yet, he stays put by where Zatanna stands, waiting to provide her power while doing his own craftsman thing.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The mention from Lara that they need to reverse what happened gets a rapid nod of agreement from Steve Rogers. "Fortunately we have one of WAND's best experts on such matters. If you can help Zatanna figure out what happened..." he says, trailing off there as he knows Lara doesn't need to hear more to know what needs to be done.

Seeing Lara and Red Arrow both armed, Cap gives the latter an affirmative nod, a signal of confidence of how she'll do in the coming battle. He turns back as the host of dark elves and ice giants starts forward towards the spaceport platform.

Thor's strategy of him taking the dragons and the dark elf leader gets a nod from Steve. "We'll handle the other... thousand," he says. Actually it's more than a thousand, but he doesn't want to paint it as if they are too badly outnumbered.

And with that battle is joined. Steve runs forward to meet the first attacks who breach the edge of the platform. He spins past a spear, kicking the dark elf and relieving him of the weapon. Cap spins, swinging it like a staff and the bladed tip bashes into another elf, slicing his face open.

Another spear is stabbing towards him. Steve Rogers pivots and reaches up, catching the shield that Colborn has thrown to him. In the nick of time he blocks the spear thrust and then spins to smash the shield down and shatter the spear's haft.

There's no hesitation, Captain America, even if he's in a sweater instead of his uniform, moves through the elves, rapidly taking them down one after another, though they are but a drop in the ocean that is to come.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara ends up beside Thea, just in time to see her fire off that first volley. With a sharp exhale, Lara raises her own bow up, a arrow notched, and released with a thwap of bowstring brushing the sleeve of her leather jacket.

Her arrow flies true, landing home in to the neck of her target far off in the distance.

"This is ... not good." She says toward Thea then before Lara starts to make her way toward Zatanna next, overseeing what the Sorceress is doing as she draws closer. "Zatanna1" Lara calls out. "Let me know how I can help..." She says, before drawing another arrow to get it ready. "Even if that just means covering you." She adds before letting that arrow fly too!

Loki has posed:
** Still elsewhere, in Asgard:**

"I don't know how you expect //me// to find them when even Heimdall's blind---" Loki begins, tongue sharp and frustrated. He generally doesn't get mouthy with Odin, so the stress here is pushing some cutting wrath into the front.

And Odin understands that, no doubt, as there's nothing to rise, and no reprimand to the boldness. The silence does, perhaps, that same function, as Loki's left to mutinously stand there while Odin 'relaxes' with his eyes closed.

Loki, frustrated in this position of being put to do something that appears impossible, waits this time, looking around at the guards present, as if daring them to say anything.

"Bring me the Gemstone of Typir," Odin says only. Loki's surprised, and starts to open his mouth, but decides against it. "In the vault," Loki says, then. There's no answer, so Loki just repeats to himself: "In the vault."

Okay. If this wasn't a stressful situation, full access to walk into the vault would be a very different thing. But Loki does as requested, he goes to fetch that item. He knows it's for some kind of soul connecting, but this isn't a relic Loki has gotten to handle.

(Whether another thing or two goes into a pocket on the same trip, well, that's just a normal Loki thing.)

Thea Queen has posed:
Arrows are flying true now. Slipping between the blows that those on the front line are dishing out. An arrow sinking into a foe that was closing in on Cap after he bashes that first enemy. Another zipping past Modgud's shoulder to take down a sneaky dark elf. Then working in tandem with Lara to stop the front lines from breaching past to reach the back lines.

All is done mechanically, years of practice coming to the fore as Thea continues unleashing without thinking.

"Yes, it won't be good.." In that she agrees with Lara. "... for them." a manic, near trembly tone to her voice. Something clearly is disturbing her. Besides the MASSIVE horde in front of them.

As Lara moves to go offer support to Zatanna she moves to catch a few more arrows from a fallen foe, skidding across the ground and picking a new quiver. It means she gets dangerously close to the front lines too.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
In her urgency to solve the puzzle, Zatanna had not heard Colborn's offer of help. One of her worst habits, one that she had been admonished for as a child, was only hearing her own thoughts when worried. She looks up at him, startled, about to take the box.

"Nothing can penetrate the shield the evil one has erected around us, to my mind."

The frown clears from her face, eyes widening in surprise as another piece of the puzzle falls into place. "I can use your power. Not just yours. Are you carrying an object that connects you to Midgard? Something that when you hold it brings back your home there?"

She picks up the Bifrost box, nearly dropping it in surprise. There is a presence in the box.

"Strange? Seriously? If that is you, speak to me."

Hugging the box in one arm, she reaches out a hand to accept the ring Thor broke from its chain and holds it up in the dim light. "This. This is the key, full of trickery and reverse magic. Thank you!"

Clutching it in her hand Zatanna turns to look down on the guests and fellow adventurers.

Pitching her voice above the monstrous roars, "EVERYONE! I need your help. We need items that connect us to Earth! Lend me an object that is dear to you and reminds you of home or ones you love there. Something that connects you to it, heart and mind."

Sif has posed:
At the question from Zatanna, Sif pauses to glance over to Thor. She watches as the chain is removed and a ring passed over, catching the markings upon it. The look from Thor is all that was needed. They had fought together for centuries. The instructions were clear and she gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

As Thor took to the sky, the glance from Sif went to Zatanna. To the ring she had been given. In that moment, Sif knew. Felt it in her soul. A whisper passed her lips, unable to be heard from any but Zatanna and Lara who was the closest to the sorceress. "The darkness rises from the light. War looms on the horizon." Which might seem odd as war certainly already seemed to be happening as the battle roared!

But then the moment passed and Sif was moving to join the battle. As others were doing, she pilfered what she could from the bodies of those falling. Soon she had a breastplate she hurried pulled on. A few swords were picked up from others that fell before them, held in her left hand as she utilized her own sword in the right for the fighting. She gathered four blades as she continued her sideways movements toward the fallen madman.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane sews up the split in Dorin's throat, not the prettiest job. He will carry an interesting scaffolding in blue silk until a real healer in Asgard fixes up the matter properly, no doubt horrified by Midgard's idea of emergency medicine. "I should not have to say this, but you cannot fight. You risk opening your neck again. Stay back in a defensive position." Her knee pins the knife responsible for opening his throat, and despite its best efforts to wiggle away, she wraps cloth around it to make it safe to hold.

She gets up, finally taking stock of the mad vault to danger. Zatanna's position she immediately takes note of and her proximity to danger, Lara and Thea close-by and the Smith glossed over by his own cosmic energy. Instructions are shot through the mist from the magician, and she promptly nods. "Will they be consumed?" she calls back. Probably hard to be heard, even cupping her ears, so all subtlety is lost.

If Zatanna accepts a voice in her thoughts, Jane asks the exact same thing in a much softer projection mind-to-mind, calibrated as a sonnet achingly clear despite low volume.

At the same time, she's on the move, gesturing to the dwarves and any spare partiers who might be milling about looking for purpose. "You, you, man in the green shirt! The rest of you, come with me. We need to open a path to bring those items to the lady sorceress. Grab whatever weapons you can from the fallen. Best armed to the front, then we start with those furthest out."

Steve, most likely. Sif, afterward. It's not exactly Amazon -- they don't have two day delivery, but they do value getting in and out for a drop-off as fast as elven, dwarven or humanly possible. Her job is coordinating, pointing willing subjects where they need to be. Finding a quick route through, fending off angry salvos of arrows, whatever it is.

Stephen Strange has posed:
** Back in New York **

Ah...there we are!

It certainly appears that sorcerers think alike. At least, for Strange and Zatanna, in this case. Stephen finds the pinprick in the fabric of nothingness...the evil rainbow rock that he personally assisted in obtaining. He knows the mystical aura of the object...and his hunch was right. There was still a success. The objects have power that radiant across the realms. And...the fact that Zatanna is holding the very same object certainly helps as well.

As for Zatanna's request? What does Stephen relay back, through that infernal stone?

"Well, it is certainly not the tooth fairy."

Sarcasm. Yes, that is definitely Strange all right. Though, yes, there is a sense of relief in those words. "Yes, it's me. I cannot sense you or the rest directly...but I can sense the portkeys."

Yes, Stephen used a Harry Potter reference.

Thor has posed:
    The weapon in Colborn's hand is some horrid crude thing, poisoned with a steady dripping of greenish ichor that is meant to break and destroy the bodies of Svartalfheim's enemies. It is a thing impure and likely in some ways an insult to a craftsman of his caliber.
    Yet the metal moves under his touch and is usable for certain as he begins to manipulate those weapons.
    More and more armored figures begin to cross over the barriers though they are met with grim defenders. Several of the dwarfs have moved in to take up spots near the others, one bracketing Modgud as he brings his shield to her defense. Another has two axes that he brings down as he screams and dives into the fight. Several of the elves in Teagan North's entourage have drawn their blades and are holding off the attackers at those walls. If it were not for that simple waist-high barricade the battle would be going much more ill.
    High above the blue light of Mjolnir lances across the sky, flying upward in a clean arc straight toward one of those dragons as it banks in a slow turn. A cry of warning comes from its mate, its fangs flashing as it screams! Giving that reptilian monstrosity enough time to turn, twisting in the air as its jaws part and sickly black flame is belched forth in a steady stream straight at the Thunderer.
    Mjolnir's spin causes those flames to break apart, flowing around the hovering figure of the Strongest Avenger as he endures, head turned to the side as he winces from the heat. Though when those flames break Mjolnir answers with a heavy impact into the side of the creature's head causing its wings to suddenly miss a beat as it begins to fall while the hammer flies back to the Asgardian Prince's hand.
    The other dragon dives in, flames billowing from its mouth as it charges. Above the conflict the battle is well and truly joined.
    Near the fair archers they provide the needed cover, their weapons singing as they fire true. For a time it might almost seem as if each time a dark elf pulls itself over that wall it is met by the thrum of a bow as they sprout feathered arrows from their helms. Fine arrows these elves make, and a fine bow for the Midgardians to wield. Yet for each one put down two or three more take their place as the tide continues to rise.
    On the edge of the fighting, Jane tends to Dorin who looks up at her with that steady gaze of his. He blinks several times, but at the least knows better than to try and speak. Instead he looks across the distance toward Korek when his brow furrows. Yet whatever thoughts he holds he keeps to himself. For now.
    Though when Jane rises and issues her orders she is able to light a fire under those civilians and some of the dwarf entourage who had been holding back. It is natural for some to snap to when a voice that speaks with authority orders them in such a situation. When those orders make sense? Then it's all the better. Soon enough she has her convoy ready even as a mutated monstrosity that resembles a bounding spider /leaps/ over the nearest wall, only for several of her gathered fighters to rapidly catch it on the tip of a spear, smash it to the ground, then repeatedly stab it over and over until it stops moving. And a few more times to make sure.

Colborn has posed:
    "In fact I do." says Colborn calmly. "It is my single most treasured friend. I say friend and not possession because one does not -own- a Mother Box." That said, he holds out a hand, and his wristwatch... for all intents and purposes a smartwatch... a VERY smart watch... along with a necklace he wears, the belt about his waist, an armband of an old Viking style, and two rings he wears... all seem to liquify and flow down into his hand to form a box that looks at the same time deceptively simple, and amazingly complex. The box itself has a full battery of cosmic power within it, and Colborn says, "It is irreplaceable." as he freely hands it over. "Mother Box. Please help this magician however she desires." he says to it, and the reply is a series of rapid *PING* sounds of differing tones and such. And the box floats itself to hover before Zatanna. "Mother Box was linked to my father before me. So yes, there is a deep connection to my home. To Titanos within it. In fact, there may still be a neural link between the Box and Father."

    That said, he turns and holds a hand out towards the arrows nocked by both Lara and Thea... imbuing power into each arrows so the next one they fire will strike like a plasma cannon.

    He nods to the archers and then turns to face the oncoming hordes with naught but his hands.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Captain America moves at a frenzied pace. Every movement strikes a blow, dodges an attack or moves into position for the next blow. A host of elves beyond counting lie unconscious, wounded, or dead upon the ground, tracing the path that he has taken in the fight. Still using the shield crafted for him by Colborn, Steve has appropriated other weapons along the way, though most of them have found purchase in his enemies. Though not without a price. His sweater is torn in three places, two of them stained red, and a line of red is scratched across his forehead on one side.

As Steve takes down the latest dark elf to make the lip of the platform, a Jotunn easily thirty-five feet tall looms above him. Rearing back with a gigantic club, he wields it in a sweeping blow at ground level.

Steve jumps, rolling in the air as he flips over it, landing again in a crouch. The ice giant doesn't wait, lifting the club and slamming it down from above! It hits the platform where Steve was with a booming sound, the platform's surface cracking there.

He lifts the club, looking for the squashed Avenger, but only sees the spiderweb of cracks made by the blow. Too late he spots Captain America, clinging to the club as it was lifted high into the air again, and then leaping to the ice giant's shoulder.

The crafted shield bashes the ice giant in the eye, drawing a howl of pain. Steve pivots, a handful of the giant's ear helping him rotate and smash the shield into the back of the giant's neck right where it meets his head. A sound somewhere between the cracking of bone and ice can be heard, and the giant falls forward, crushing a whole squad of dark elves who have just made the lip of the platform.

Cap ends up jumping, rolling once and coming up on his feet near the giant's head. He reaches into a back pocket and yells, "Jane!" He throws something towards her. A compass that dates back to World War II.

Lara Croft has posed:
With the enemies firing back now, Lara tumbles down beneath some cover before she rises back up, arms herself with another arrow and fires it off toward one of the Dark Elves closing in on Cap as he makes his attacks on that ice giant. There's too many of them... there's like an endless flow coming up over the platform's ridge. She won't even have enough arrows for this...

Lara has all those damn bad thoughts plaguing her mind, as she tries to suss out how to handle this situation.

'Run' would be ideal, but there's no WHERe to run to!

When she hears people calling out for items of personal value, Lara is back on her feet, and back to Jane's side. She reaches her free hand up, and dips it under the neckline of her dark green sweater. A moment later, and she's pulling out a medallion on a leather cord. She rips it from her neck, the cord popping open in the back, and she offers it to Jane, and Zatanna.

IT's a jade green pendant in the shape of a Phoenix. There's no time to explain it's worth though, as Colborn charges one of Lara's arrows, and she draws it from her quiver...

With careful steps, the woman looks up to one of the dragons, raises that charged arrow, and launches it up toward the flying beast's neck!

Thea Queen has posed:
Near where Zatanna works to save their reality and asks for those personal items there's an unassuming small man with glasses that approaches, holding a small pug dog in his arms. He's nervous, afraid, but he still moves forward. "Excuse me, miss." a beat, "I have this..." he offers his pug's collar to the gather of items for the heroes. Whatever his connection may be to the whole thing and -why- he was up here for the celebration? The way he looks to the glowing red necklace they got that connects to Muspelheim may be the reason. And how he protectively holds his pug and begins moving back from the fray? That dog might just be who he loves most in this world.

Thea for her part is trying to make sure not to die now that she is close to the front lines. She rolls on the floor to dodge a wicked quick blow from one of the dark elves. She kicks the blade away and stabs him with an arrow before shooting him. And then there's that contingent of dark elves ready to take her out. Crap she has no arrows for all of these and ----

Cue Captain America downing that giant and crushing the elves that were making their way towards her. There's that temptation to say it only counts as one but can she really get into a contest of kills with Captain America? Not really! So she nods her head sharply at the man in thanks and rolls out of the way..

Jane's call for items is returned by her reaching inside her clothings and she pulls out a a silver chain with a metal arrowhead. No explanation but it seems to have a deep meaning to her because she throws it to Jane (or one of the others getting items from the front lines!).

And then ..., is that a glowing arrow? She looks up and sees an arrow just like hers being shot by Lara. She grins. They had the same idea. So she shoots as well, joining her PLASMA CANNON ARROW with Lara's to go towards that dragon.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna grimaces, shaking her head. "Well, I left my tooth back at the Starport for you, you...doof." Sighing with relief, "I'm terribly glad it's you and not another minion of Malekith. The short of it is: We are in a pocket dimension away from Midgard with Malekith and his monsters ready to eat us. Magic is funky beyond belief here, practically nada. And the object Thor was carrying flipped the spell, undoing the binding between the resonant objects to each realm. Between us, we can bind them to more I'm collecting from our defenders to anchor us to home. You getting this?"

In a quick aside to Jane, " If all goes well, the objects will be returned to you, safe and sound," she promises, "tell the others for me, dear Jane."

Turning to Colborn, "You will help Dr. Strange and me stitch this spell back to rights. Your power will make all the difference."

In another realm, the mage could instantly produce a bag from the air. Here, magic is deadened, moving at a crawl. She makes do with the hem of her skirt, collecting each dear object.

From Colborn a WRISTWATCH encapsulating the Mother Box.

FromCaptain America a vintage COMPASS.

From the adventurer and light-fingered Lara, a JADE PHOENIX.

Jane relays a precious silver NECKLACE weighted with an arrowhead from Thea Queen.

A slip of paper - a fortune cookie FORTUNE from Sif is passed from hand to hand.

Finally, after all of her precious help, Jane contributes an incredibly RARE CRYSTAL PENDANT necklace.

"Strange are you ready? ".emoh su sgnirb taht bew a ekaM .emoh fo sotnemem suoicerp eseht dniB"

Sif has posed:
Sif swung her blade, sending yet another dark elf falling to the ground. The breastplate was ill fitting but was doing its job thus far. It had protected her well. Though she did not trust it as she would her usual armor so was attempting to avoid hits instead of relying fully upon the metal to keep her safe.

Her addition to the gathered items has been that small slip of paper with the text in red. It had come out of a fortune cookie and held a special place for her. The numbers had proved not to be lucky, despite what they claimed to be, but the words on the opposite side always made her smile. 'Life is best when you trust the advice of your elders.'

As she worked through the battle, the swords she had gathered in her left hand were offered to those with less effective weapons. Or no weapons at all. Giving them the ability to fight back!

And soon, she had made her way to her target. Korek. Laying there upon the ground, though he had been knocked out by Steve. He was beginning to stir, which had been the concern. They did not need the traitorous cretin within their midst during the battle.

She eyed him with a coldness that was palpable. The anger in her was great at his deception and betrayal. The uru metal flashed through the air as she swung her sword!

A moment later, the achilles tendon of the man was cut in twain, leaving him wailing and unable to walk. The second was sliced as well. Then Sif simply turned her back and continued to fight, moving around his prone and screaming form to battle the incoming horde!

Jane Foster has posed:
Those moments to gather up precious treasures all count. A woman who creates tiny perforations in space best not blunder or be maladroit in manipulating her own devices. Captain Rogers, and a few set others, probably have an idea of her hand-eye coordination skills from SHIELD's endless physical tests and her responsibility over WAND's 0-8-2s. Jane dodges the hideous pale copy of Shelob, forced to skid across the ground and roll her ankle in the process. She still manages to catch the compass. "Got it, Captain! We'll keep it safe"

Civilian combatants she mobilizes on the fly, thrusting a treasure into the grasp of a startled elf. "Stay to the centre, and hold it firmly in one hand. We'll hand off." Another command to wheel the warriors around keeps them running the gauntlet. Gravity steers the little group of warriors and runners on a journey through unbounded war, the relentless flow of life and death driving them to law their sacrifices at the sorcerers' feet. Along the way come a tale of cuts and bruises, and the occasional fall whittle at their progress.

A loose cannon on the chessboard, Jane can't afford to stop and attract notice from the dragons or dark elves or necromancers, oh my. An arrow wings her left side, leaving a bright scarlet line. Primordial hate and venomouus spite from Malekith's forces bite Jane's soul-made-flesh worse than a physical weapon ever could, magic and extraordinary powers something to dread.

Her contribution is common enough, a necklace graced by an incredibly rare crystal pendant.

----

Across the battlefield, Modgud is steadily adding to Helheim's collection of guests. Unfortunately they can't be received since no soul can leave, but does it matter? Her blue skin is bright, her white hair blood-spattered, her sword disturbingly unmarred by gore or goo. Elric would be swooning.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Doof? That...is probably the first time that Strange has been called that in recent memory. Yet, he doesn't chastise.

at least, not yet. That can come later. Now, it is time to listen....and to assist. As Stephen gets the abbreviated version of events, he considers the actions. Yes, of course it was Malekith. The flipping of the spell? It would be something of his doing. Still...silently even Stephen has to admit that it was a good ploy.

Just...not good enough.

The answer from the stone comes through. "Yes, I am getting it. You want me to anchor from this end and pull you all through."

Simple, right?

If only.

Still....with the connection through the piece of Bifrost, Stephen can channel his own mystical energies. It may not be the fullest extent of his might, considering, but it is still a connection to Midgard...and his own contribution to the spell. The pathway home, thin and tenuous, but there and waiting.

Waiting for the personal artifacts of the brave adventurers to latch onto and establish that bridge back home.

The intricate dance that Stephen's fingers carve through the air is lost to the others trapped...the only audience to benefit are the mystical objects within the Sanctum itself. Instead, only a single word is relayed on for Zatanna's benefit.

"Ready."

Thor has posed:
    As power whorls about the hand of the blacksmith, it causes those arrows so drawn by the archers to glow with such incredible potential. Energy lashing at the fletching and the tip creating a glowing sheen.
    Only now the weapons the Svartalfar hold fire more often as they get past those barriers, purplish energy slashes outward, blasting with a blaze of fire but also embedding blackened quarrels into the surface of whatever they strike. Quarrels that sizzle and begin to melt whatever they impact as the vile ichor within surges.
    On the other side of the battle that giant, Yrkinar the Gray, slaughtered several of the defenders. Their bodies were lying broken and twisted from his great club. Only for him to in turn be felled by the Thane of Midgard as Cap slams the shield home, its icy armor and flesh shattering in parts as it impacts upon those dark elves and the ground.
    Though in the next moment a great blazing surge is seen as twin arrows slice up into the air like burning torches fired from Lara's and Thea's bows. Timed perfectly as the dragon twists in that black sky, grappling with the Thunderer who turns even as the mystic hammer lashes out over and over into the side of the creature's skull. The arrows streak in, striking true, causing the large monster's back to arch in pain as its long spine clenches with agony, both of the figures now hurtling down toward the earth... falling...
    And /slamming/ into the side of the hill.
    Thor rises and shakes his head, hammer rising up as he takes it in both hands. Only for black fire to burst into life around his wrists, while distantly Malekith's split features turn into a smile. He holds up a long-fingered hand then twists as his spell binds the Thunderer's arms for a time. Long enough for the dragon to claw Thor's side, a flash of blood torn yet the pain giving him enough strength to bring the hammer down and crush the monster's sternum with a loud horrifying crackle.
    But it's when the magical power surges around Zatanna, when she has gathered those items and begins to draw on sources of power. That is the moment when she has gained Malekith's attention. It is seen merely at first as a quirked eyebrow on the light side of his face. Then his other hand comes up, index and pinky finger extended. He maintains the first spell on Thor with the other hand, seemingly entirely at ease as he hovers over the battle in his grim throne. Slowly an inky black sphere begins to grow around his raised hand.

Colborn has posed:
    With sword tossed his way by Sif, Colborn catches the thing deftly. As he does so, power radiates from his hand directly into the metal. It is inefficient, as he did not craft this weapon to channel such power. The weapon will not survive it long... but this is not exactly a marathon.

    "Do what is required." he says as he drifts between Zatanna and Malekith... Yes, he is hovering in the air there in the way, glowing sword blade held defiantly. He is ready to try to block whatever effect Malekith is attempting with his blade, and body. And if needed, his very soul.

    The Mother Box begins to release its own stored up energy to Zatanna, to help fuel the magicks in this place where the energies are difficult to draw upon. It -was- asked to help her after all. And for some reason, those pings and dings are actually sounding like a language. Yeah, the Box is translating itself for Zatanna, if only to insure she knows what it is attempting to do to help. Celestial Tech for the win.

Steve Rogers has posed:
It's a fight that is surely worthy of Valhalla, despite Thor's taunts of their enemies earlier. Captain America fights alongside with a number of the dwarves, trying to hold the edge of the platform. A veritable wall of bodies is forming where they fight, but time is on the side of the attackers.

Gradually they begin to take the edge of the platform with sheer numbers. Lara's arrow is timely, taking a dark elf in the throat who was going to run Steve through while he was focused on another opponent. Another steps up to take his place, but Cap whirls, throwing the shield which flies well enough at such a short distance, and rebounds to his hand.

A trio of elves leap at him and one of the dwarves hacks one down with an axe. But the other two tackle Steve to the ground. One takes an elbow to the head, which leaves it hanging at an unnatural angle from his neck. Steve does a flip kick to rapidly regain his feet, only to have to dive to the side to dodge a Jotunn's jagged ice blade.

More elves jump on him, one pulling a dagger and raising it high before plunging it down, but a human hand reaches up from the pile, catching the wrist and forcing the knife back into the wielder's chest.

Still more dark elves swarm toward the downed Avenger, while others charge the dwarves who were holding the line alongside Cap, forcing them do defend or lose their heads. Steve's no longer visible beneath the pile of bodies.

Lara Croft has posed:
They have the best magic casters in the world on this, they'll find a way out...

Lara watches the after-effects of she and Thea's mirrored arrows of Colborn's gifted energy. She sees Thor's efforts up there as well, and as the Dragon comes down, Lara breathes out one small sigh of relief.

But then she's back on her feet and running low, with some of the foe's fire narrowly missing her, as she takes up point behind a less-damaged bit of cover now. She ducks down, glances up, ducks once more, then draws out another pair of arrows from the gifted-Quiver.

They're notched, and one after the other, Lara fires back at the Dark Elf horde that Steve is valiantly dealing with!

Thea Queen has posed:
Thea looks -very- impressed at the power behind those arrows when they hit the dragon. A glance back to where Zatanna and the others are but her focus is on Colborn for a few moments and raising her fist at him in thanks. It's when she is doing that gesture that she finds him on the side, wailing in pain as Sif walks away...

Korek.

She readies her bow, arrow prepped and she pulls the string. It would be easy to take him out now and fulfill her vengeance. Yet those arrows being shot by Lara bring her attention back to the fray to where the Captain is at. And having to choose between helping an ally or fulfilling revenge? She shifts her shot to hit that tangle of enemies. One of the dark elves falls but there are way too many. And without Cap on the frontline there it means more foes get past the defenses.

Enough that a dark elf sword cuts through her suit, drawing blood and having the archer stagger back and falling, desperately fending off attacks with her bow.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Oh! Beneficent gods protect us," Zatanna gasps, harking back to her mother's favorite oath. An evil black fire engulfs Thor, and she must make a choice: try to undo the spell on him or finish what she has begun with Strange. An arrow winging past Thor's head decides her.

She looks out over the enemies pressing around them as their heroes battle against the hoard. Hand clutching her skirt filled with precious objects, Zatanna shuts her eyes in concentration, trying vainly to deafen herself to the storm of battle. Then opens them to honor their valiant efforts.

A black cloud descends and begins to coalesce around her ankles. Desperate, she calls out to the Supreme Sorcerer.

"Strange, we are running out of time. Malekith is on to us. He has got Thor in a spell. It's bad."

She grasps the mother box and slips it over her wrist, drawing power from its vast reserves. Then, touching each of the objects lent her one after the other, despite the searing pain, Zatanna straightens, seeming to grow taller as she chants,

"".ssenkrad eht ot htikelaM tsaC .emoh ot lla su dniB"

Sif has posed:
As the dragon fell from the sky, Sif had to smile despite the horror of the battlefield. Thor had fallen but she saw the flash of light indicating Mjolnir was still out there and in movement. That allowed Sif to focus on those around her. Though her concern has her starting to fight toward where he had fallen.

Bodies piled. Blood and ichor making the floor slippery as the concrete could not soak in. The ground beyond did, the fluids sinking into the earth.

The sounds of screams or moans from those dying around. Her blood started to thunder in her veins. Loud in her ears as she swung her sword again and again. A dodge to the left, pieces of green material sliced from the arm of her dress fluttering to the ground to be lost in a pool of crimson. Yet still the Goddess of War battled, despite her own wounds, despite the insanity of what they faced.

Jane Foster has posed:
What epic tale ever included the heroes simply walking home? The dragon falls with a resounding crunch and sends others scattering, the bedrock mournfully groaning in protest. The vibrations rattle Jane, too, her hand still at the line on her neck and the familiar weight of the jewelry, leaving a nakedness that's profoundly uncomfortable. Disquiet seethes all the deeper, brewing deep within. "Agent Croft, can you see that? We cannot leave him like this," she utters in warning, trying to comprehend the structures displayed before them. Thor enveloped in shadow. Darkness writhing in Malekith's hands, a ghastly construct that leaves every fibre of her being harmonized in a mute, shrill tide of warning.

Zatanna's spells register more cleanly than the slip-slide of Sif in battle, Captain America exchanging blows further on. They don't see the unreaped lives that she does, tallied by bodies and limbs, but her eyes turn back to the dark elf in the distance. The weight at her wrist.

The first inklings of the innocuous chain creeping up her arm, the only thing tethering her to the mortal plane, burn. So she waits.

Stephen Strange has posed:
**Back in New York**

The formerly sitting Sorcerer Supreme floats to his feet. Standing still, he takes quick stock in his surroundings. Hmm....going to need a bit more room for his guests. With a wave of his hand, the dimensions of the room he is in changes. The mystical relics remain...but now the space that he had clear for his own personal administrations seems to double or triple in size. Easily large enough to be considered a dancefloor, which is good. Considering he was about to invite nine separate individuals, already in the midst of their own dance.

The sorcerer's hand spins lazily around, slowly tracing a circle of white before him. Points highlight, equal distance apart from each other, as lines of power connect one point to each of the others, including the space occupied by Stephen himself. Then, peering seemingly into space, the good doctor traces tethers...one for each point of light on his circle, up and into the aether. These tethers emerge from the vile rock held by Zatanna, the pipeline between her and Strange, as they drift to each of the objects in her possession...then, in turn, to the owners of those objects, the thin white lifeline wrapping themselves around the waist of each person.

Strange's voice echoes through the stone. "Hold on. This is going to be a little rough."

It is then that Strange, using both his power and taking the boost from the cosmic energies from Colborn's contribution, links with Zatanna's own efforts. The white tethers glow brighter, then shift to an indigo blue...

...while the lines back in Midgard all flow, through the circle, to Strange's outstretched hands. Hands that slowly clench into fists as he, quite literally, pulls...

Thor has posed:
    More and more monstrosities begin to cross that barrier, more and more hatred is leveled upon the defenders as they hold the line though that line... begins to slowly crumble.
    A Jotun roars as his massive foot steps over the barrier, even as he brings a gigantic sword up and then down toward Sif, cleaving part of the starport's platform in twain, its ice armor leaving trails of vapor behind it as it moves to continue the assault.
    The Svartalfar have established firing positions and some of the other defenders begin to pay the price. Purplish flames lancing out as quarrels strike, figures fall as some of the civilians are struck though pulled into cover as others quickly try to tend to those wounds. It is a roiling madness this moment, as more and more of that army ascends.
    Far off across the pitch black sky, the vile sorcerer Malekith curves a smile on the other half of his face, all while the flames on Thor's wrist grow stronger, all while that black sphere that surges to life around his hand grows larger. Abruptly it disappears from his hand.
    Then reappears upon the platform right in front of the gatherers and the spellcaster some call Zatanna. Only it is no longer some small thing, it is ten feet tall and with it comes a loud moan of such despair as if the universe were mourning a lost child. When it manifests it snaps out with a blast of energy that washes over those near almost close enough to disrupt the spell, and each point it touches on the ground no longer exists, as if eaten away by the nothing. Its whorling vortex catches several discarded blades and as it devours them they all simply disappear leaving not even ash.
    Then suddenly there is a flash of lightning cutting across the distance as Mjolnir blazes to life, Thor's arms now fully engulfed in those black flames yet he releases all of the stored energy within the mystic Uru hammer. It fires with a hiss and crackle of power as the lightning blasts into it...
    Only the spell begins to gain power, the connections between worlds are woven. There is a tilt of the Dark Elven ruler's head as he considers, as he can feel the threads of reality rewoven. For a moment that sphere surges toward Colborn and Zatanna.
    Then with a sudden smug smirk he twists that one hand and simultaneously the fire BLAZES to life engulfing Thor entirely, even as that sphere grows tendrils and slices across the distance rushing toward Thor. First its darkness comes into contact with Mjolnir as the Asgardian Prince holds it out, his face contorted as he /fights/ the spell and the hammer surges with such power...
    So much power.
    Until cracks begin to form, shining brightly as fractures begin to grow in the ancient hammer. Until it explodes into a thousand pieces bursting outward like some shattered boulder dropped from on high. The light around Thor grows then as the sphere engulfs him. There is time enough to see the explosion of the spell, the broken shattered remains of the hammer falling to the ground, and the God of Thunder's face as he tries to shield himself with one arm.
    And then nothing as the blast slashes through him entirely, leaving ragged scorch marks upon the ground of such intense heat that they still glow and smoulder.
    Then there is a wild tug on each of the heroes, a twisting as if some horror from the depths of the planes was reaching out and grasping each of them and pulling them. It is a short jolt, painful, disorienting. Only now around them. The heroes are alone.
    The stars are back. The starport around them. There is the sound of the ocean.
    This world is theirs.

Loki has posed:
** And elsewhere: Asgard:**

"Father. This isn't a scrying relic," Loki says, as he returns to the palace's main chamber, approaching Odin. What exactly is Odin planning here? The item he was sent to get is related to restoration. Why does this feel like a horrible test?

"Is Thor injured?" Loki asks, picking up on Odin's strange emotional state.

"....Or...?" Loki guesses, but doesn't get an answer either way. He brings over the relic he was sent to pick up.

"You do know what is expected of you," Odin says, instead, to Loki. Loki, who responds with a confused annoyance -- but he doesn't resent puzzles. Perhaps Odin knows this. Unwilling to look like he doesn't immediately understand Odin's vague oracle-like statement, Loki answers, "Of course. But---"

Odin gestures for the gemstone, and Loki delivers it more directly to hand, unhappy to be left out of some information, but happy to be included in SOME way. It's a confusing set of emotions here. And maybe only due to Thor being missing. And that's a different set of emotions - some to push aside into the corner to deal with later.

Until suddenly, the relic falls from Odin's hand, leaving Loki's quick reflexes to dive for it before it shatters, and Odin collapses forward. There were a lot of things Loki was prepared for, but Odin falling towards him wasn't one of them.

"ASSIST ME," Loki flares at the guards nearby, and there's a scramble to rush to do just that. "Father, what...?" Loki asks quickly.

Odin's still awake, but looking out ... somewhere, that isn't Loki. Towards some other son, maybe. And then Odin falls unconscious. "Get the healers in here. NOW," Loki orients, stepping back, and orienting on Heimdall mentally. "Update me RIGHT NOW, Heimdall; Odin has collapsed."

Colborn has posed:
    Standing fast, Colborn was ready to give of his own body and soul to protect the one good chance everyone had of getting home. But then things go.... awry. Wow, what an understatement.

    Turning to look up as Mjolnir explodes, he lifts his arms and his blade even while moving between the 'splodey mallet and Zatanna. Fragments can kill just as easily as a blade. So he attempts to shield her from them. I mean come on.. she needs to get folks home.

    Wordlessly, he gets peppered with explosive energy. Are there fragments of the hammer? Difficult to say. This is a strange place, and it is some of the most potent magic in the universe pitted against other equally potent power.

    He -does- attempt to reach out telekinetically to find Thor... to pull him along with if anyone is returning home... he hopes to drag an unconscious thunderer along with. If that is -remotely- possible.

    Aaaand then the universe twists, and he is no longer where he was. He is... home. But has no grip on anything but a dark elf sword that is rapidly disintegrating from the energy he poured into it.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Though a skilled grappler, the sheer number of adversaries piling on him leave little for Steve Rogers to do but try to protect himself against hands trying to slip blades at him between the press of bodies.

Arrows strike some of those atop him as Red Arrow and Lara Croft try to help him. But with those great numbers it seems like it's only a matter of time.

Beneath the press of bodies, Steve hears a tremendous explosion, and then soon after something tugs at him and he feels like he's hurting through space for fractions of a second, before he finds himself lying on the platform, minus all of the dark elves that were atop him.

Steve lets himself catch his breath for all of a second, before his head comes up and his eyes go about, searching out the fate of his friends. As his eyes move from one person to another, he starts to breath sighs of relief.

Rolling over, he presses with his arms to get up off the ground and stagger to his feet. "Is everyone ok?" he asks. His eyes go to the WAND agent first and foremost, a relieved expression showing, though at the sight of Red Arrow bleeding, Steve hurries over to the archer. 'Hurries' amounting to a bit of a lurching, quick walk. "Are you ok?" he asks, tearing a sleeve off his sweater and pressing it to the wound to stem the flow of blood, heedless of his own wounds.

"Thor, can they follow us?" he calls out, not having actually spotted the Thunderer and his condition yet.

Lara Croft has posed:
The Dark Elf bearing down on Thea gets an arrow through the back of his neck, right between the spaces of his armor. The arrowhead bursts out the front of his throat, and the Elf is sent forward as Lara rams in to him from behind, putting her shoulder in to him, and grunting loudly as she sends him down to the ground to bleed out on the platform.

HEr last arrow is then notched, and Lara turns, drops to her knee and fires it off right in to the face of another foe before she is left there without any more ammunition for her weapon, and that's when things change again?

She doesn't have time to process that though, as she looks to Sneaky-Thea. "Are you okay?" She asks, tired, panting heavily, her eyes going over Thea, then darting up to where Cap is, Lara stands up... not injured at all, but she is tired and totally out of arrows now, she follows Steve's eyes to look for Thor, holding that bow at her side...

Thea Queen has posed:
One moment there's a blade getting close to her neck and the other everything is gone in a blink. Literally. Not that Thea didn't feel that evil pull from whatever spell was made. Or the burst of power Malekith called upon Thor. It's all a blur, the archer lying on the ground before she spots someone close by. Familiar voice. Captain America.

"I .., it's okay." a glance down to the blood on the side of her abdomen, the little twist of that serrated blade leaving a peculiar mark there, "Don't think it went too deep.." it still hurts like all hell though and the blood can be a problem so she certainly doen't stop the Captain from bandaging it properly..

Eyes dart around. They spot Lara there. She seems okay so there's a faint smile of relief at that. There's Jane apparently unhurt. And Sif drenched in the blood of her enemies. Standing tall. Of course. The mages Colborn and Zatanna. Everyone is back.

"Thor. Where is Thor?" No, one is still missing isn't there?

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The spell takes.

And boy, does it take. Feet boiling in acid, flinching from the powerful shards of metal exploding from Thor's broken hammer, Zatanna clutches the hem of her folded over gown and screams like a girl, "Ahhhhh!"

She has never liked the Bi-Frost but this trip is gut-wrenchingly bad. Add a bruised elbow to the mix. With an effort she rises to her knees, objects still clumsily caught in her dress, then stands.

"Thor?" The magician searches the room, turning in place to find a sign of the Asgardian prince. Odd pieces of metal scattered about the floor catch the light.

"Strange, still with me? Did you get that? Thor is gone, and the hammer -exploded-. But..." she takes a deep breath and sighs, still searching vainly for the Thunderer, "we are home."

Suddenly, the homo magi needs to sit. Unceremoniously, she plops to the floor, precious objects now in her lap. Blinking hard, she watches the others shake themselves out of the daze of battle and tend to the wounded.

Jane Foster has posed:
Storm and uru coalesce in a stagnant shriek, the wounds of a pained beast drawn out from the weapon and the sky. Malekith's spell renders so many impotent, and there's not a damned thing that Jane Foster can do to halt its terrible perfidity. Norns sigh. Somewhere, does Frigga weep? On such terrible axes do heroic fates turn.

The world tilts askew. Tethers snap as she launches against herself, a graceless crash into the star-shot night. Too late. A Sorcerer Supreme exerting his will from his base of power cannot be so contemptuously swatted aside any more than logomancy striking out the last line and changing the skald's song. Jane cries out not for grand rituals brutally forcing reality to accede, nor the ringing blades meeting tortured svartalf steel.

"Thor!"

But for pain of a friend. For sting of sacrifice. For the nameless, inviolate truths she lives by tested, proved true, and found wanting. Calling the Nine Realms to account for a misdeed, her tone is both anguished and authoritative, a beacon and a beckoning. "Zatanna? Lady Sif? Can you find him?" She doesn't ask after anyone's health, a black mark on her name. That's something known bone-deep, where die the living.

The heavens have always been a friend in troubled times. The stars in their impermanence a source of wonder and a salve for doubt. Not tonight. The night is a promise, and in that moment, an oath sworn in the essence from her battered soul -- and thus body -- as she gets to her feet.

Tonight the sky is no friend. She makes that awful walk, eyes glistening, where the cinders of fallen stars lie cooling in forbidding incandescence. A mourner's role is hers to make, ashen and grave, reclaiming the pieces in the ragged hem of her dress.

Sif has posed:
She was wading through them, feeling the resistance as she used her sword to slice through enemies. At some point she had gained a metal spear from a fallen foe. Then that giant stepped in her way and she was forced to leap to the side. Stepping on the fallen. Elf, troll, giant, like a dark ladder as she climbed up then /slammed/ the spear through the head of the giant.

It started to fall and she was riding it down back toward combat. But this height, this vantage, she was able to see Thor in the distance. See the flames. Watched as the great Mjolnir exploded. Then that flash, the scalding blast, and he was...

She landed on the ground, falling into a forward roll as the scream was torn from her throat. "THOR!" Before she could even take a step, the world around then was wrenched away. Even as she reached a hand out, as though she could grasp it and keep herself there.

Only to find herself on the platform at the starport where this had begun. The party ragged, bloodied. Thor...gone. She looked to her friends allies still there but had no words, could think of nothing to say.

She drew in a shuddering breath, blinking back tears. Then she paused, head tilting slightly as though listening to something. She move away from the group, to the far edge of that platfrom.

"Yes, brother," she said softly. And a moment later there was the bright explosion of the Bifrost being activated, a flash of light and a rush of air.

When it cleared, Sif was gone, summoned back to Asgard by Heimdall.