17007/Along Came A Wizard: Bill's Folly

Along Came A Wizard: Bill's Folly
Date of Scene:	02 February 2024
Location:	Delapidated house.
Synopsis:	This D&D succubus sucks...and not in the fun way!
Cast of Characters:	Clea, Mary Jane Watson, Mary Bromfield, Illyana Rasputina, Corben Kelly, Phoebe Beacon, Stephen Strange

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Clea has posed:
Kevin, the old 'wizard' had been put in a safe spot while the group that had found him worked up a plan. They had the address to where Bill had last been seen with the weird notebook that they found.

The house sits at the end of a dead end and looks to have been boarded up for the last twenty or so years.

It's one of those really cliche looking abandoned houses. Gods only knows what the teens were doing in here given it looks like a perfect place for a flop house. There is even lights on towards the top of the house, probably the attic.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane has her large basterd sword out. It's held easily over in one hand. She's going into this expecting monsters from another age. There is nothing left to recover but to seal the breach and exterminate those things which came through. Sonja is in charge.

And Mary Jane is horrified enough to let her.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt would just fly into the attic and demand what's going on... save that this is magic. Barrelling headfirst into magic is never a good idea, especially when they have an unknown level of power.

So, play by the rules, and go in at the start of the dungeon. Mary's enough of a gamer to know that hacking the scenario is bad. So no swooping, and going in with the rest of the group.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Kevin needs help. Getting to safety by way of Limbo is not on the list of 'Smart Ideas Illyana Approves Of.' Hunting down fools who dabble in dark magic absolutely is, especially after sending a pointed text message to the Main Pointy Hat Wearer in town -- the one with her surname.

That would be Stephen, not Piotr.

She wears her usual black winter ensemble, boots up to her knees under black leather pants and a cropped jacket. Looking like the blonde who runs free at the end of the horror movie may be to her advantage. Her sword, unlike MJ's, is not present but that hardly matters when it's at arm's reach anywhere.

"I brought chocolate espresso beans for them," she announces gravely. "For the energy." Maybe she'll give them puppies too. Her expression is blase about a spooky house, partly because the 'spooky' factor hits a lot lower on a Hell Lord. "Depressed property value, da? Very useful for us. We want to check in a window first?"

Corben Kelly has posed:
Usually the Fates don't give him much to go on, just some random jumble of nonsense that could mean someone's death is imminent or it could mean that someone was wailing in anguish because the pizza they ordered had pineapple on it - PINEAPPLE. Sometime's however, they're very specific. This is one of those latter times.


Just because he showed up, doesn't mean that Corben has to like it. He's standing off to the side of the house, hiding a bit behind a tree if there's one present. "Really?" he mutters to himself. "Amityville Horror number twenty seven point five? That's why I'm here?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well," the Gotham-dwelling magic user states, "I feel *right* at home."

    Balm stands a bit to the side of Mary Jane/Sonja and the Huge Sword. She's changed on the way over, and her dogs have been sent Home. She's switched to dark tac pants and a shirt with an attached hood, wearing her blue-lensed domino as she adjusts her own sword. It's not nearly as intimidating as anyone else's, but also not drawn. She hops on her boots a little to loosen up, and she raises her eyebrows a moment, looking over to Corben.

    She counts a moment, and then looks to Illyana, leans over, and holds her hand, palm up, for some of those beans.

    "He's not one of yours, is he?" she questions to the Queen of Limbo.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Pointed text message received. Followed by three simple letters.

'OMW'

And...it does not take long at all for the sorcerer to make his appearance. There isn't even a question from Stephen Strange as to where Illyana is. There is simply the sudden appearance of golden sparks, swirling into existence as a portal opens...with what looks to be a foyer on the other side. Then, a simple step, and the Sorcerer Supreme appears, with the sparks falling into nothingness.

How did Strange know where to go? That would be a trade secret. Or...rather...a simple trace of the soul fragment he gave to the Demon Queen. Both are valid answers.

"Well, this is certainly a very stereotypical opening for a horror movie. Is the camera crew just out of sight?"

Clea has posed:
There is a rustling in the overgrown bushes, but no camera crew pops out. Sadly. There is a stray cat that emerges to see if anyone might have food. The white hair is dingy from the dust and dried mud. It's one clipped ear heralds that it is at least been TNR'd. It gives them an annoyed look, meows and then sits down expectantly.

Meanwhile...in the murder house...

There is a shrill scream from a young man that cuts through the night air and the sounds of something cackling at the sound. If anyone approaches they start feeling the dread rolling off the human inside. It's almost stomach churning.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Better dread than dead. Red Sonja hears the scream, goes to take a few steps backwards, and then goes to run and -leap- upwards, feet going to impact the nearest window with a satisfying *crunch* as she would break through it. Sword over in hand as she would twirl in an arc, cackling ever so madly. While the others spend time with the cat,s he's charging.

up -through- the conveniently accessible window with the dramatic backlight over the front yard.

Gonig to a quick tumble and roll as she would smash through, glass going in every direction, bladelets going over her skin to cover her in dozens of small cuts, blood going down her. "Come, who is ready to be the first to die?"

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt blinks, "Does she /always/ do that?" She shakes her head, then flies quickly after Sonja, soaring gracefully through the broken window and hovering behind Sonja as she says, "What she said!"

Then she murmurs to MJ, "Um, what did you say, exactly?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The magical world has its own laws. Thou shalt stoop to pet the irritated cat. Always side-eye the bleeding glyph that appears on the wall. No pointy hats and capes in your ensemble.

Illyana's fondness for alien dragons and feral cats bids her to utter, in all seriousness, "Sppsppsppsppspp," to the white mangy creature. Should luck nudge its way and the smallest tint of fatigue blow off like dust from a computer case, that's purely circumstantial evidence she does not totally lack a heart. Without looking up, her shadow solidifies into a darker state. Liquid night runs up from her temples, razor-edged moonbeams and tarnished starlight crystallizing into forked lines.

Away melts her jacket, replaced by her croptop with the prominent circular window and the oily pitch of sin.

"You," she points at Corben, "and you," no need to point at Stephen, "show caution. The house has a soul-eating demon from the Second Circle inside. It chose the man as its predilection. She may look as appealing as possible to you. And maybe you."

Mary earns that black-lipped grin with no light in those glowing eyes as she stalks to the house at a slinking lope. At least her knees aren't digitigrade.

Corben Kelly has posed:
Swords? Corben is really starting to feel like he's under dressed for this party. He steps out from behind the tree to give himself a better visual vantage point to look at... swords. He pats the pockets of his black trench and listens to the little tink of tiny bottles clinking together. Too bad none of them are 'grow a sword from your ass' potions. It would hurt like a bitch, but man would it be useful.

"I'm not anyone's," he comments as he moves closer to the group. "Name's Corben." He is wearing his cochlear processors this evening, but it's more likely that he read Phoebe's lips than it is that he heard her. "So, are we here to save Carol Anne or meet up with Jamie Lee Curtis?" he asks, as if he means it. Blue eyes trail up toward the attic and he lets out a resigned sigh. "It always has to be the attic or the basement doesn't it? It can never be the kitchen with a nice spread of take out Chinese and booze?"

Behind him, for those who can see and hear such things, is the spirit of a little old man. When he speaks it's with a heavy Irish brogue, "Stop yer bitchin', lad. This where yer supposed to be and that's that."

"I wasn't bitching," Corben whispers without looking behind him.

"People generally run /away/ from death screams in the attic straight from the set of Psycho," is called out when Mary Jane goes all wo'man' without a plan. His shift from human to raven is a seamless thing, there aren't any cracking bones and gross shit and he doesn't leave a pile of clothes behind. It's just where there was a Corben there's now a bird. He follows Mary Jane and Mary up, but perches himself on the rubble of the window rather than to go all the way through... yet. Belatedly and all croaky like a crow he says, "Not it," in regards to 'dying first. To Illyana he croaks out, "You're not the boss of me." Even in bird form, it's easy to tell he's kidding, mostly. He might be a little disappointed when they don't find Mrs. Bates in the attic.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Balm gives a wry sort of smile, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a couple slivers of chicken jerky (great for distracting dogs, cats, and other assorted wild animals), she shreds it a little in her hand for the TNR cat before giving a little scritch.

    "Yes." the healer replies to Thunderbolt, and gives a wince. "Pretty much every time I've worked with her." she confirms, and then takes a deep breath.

    Balm gives a slight look over to Corben, her eyebrows rising behind her domino mask.

    "Stay sharp." she gives a small smile to Corben as she makes her way into the house, pursing her lips.

    "Yeah, why isn't it ever a 'first floor parlor'?" she questions in good humor, looking to the Stanges.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
    "Also, nyet," Illyana adds because her player can totally focus on more than two things at a time. This reply to Phoebe is clear. "Not mine. She will wish she was." That cannot be an ominous sign at all.

Stephen Strange has posed:
The cat was not going to be ignored. Strange himself does not reach down to pet, but he knew that it would not be neglected. After all, Illyana was present and the Queen of Limbo has yet to pass up an opportunity for cat scritches, as far as Strange is aware. Still, the cat does get a slight smile before the sorcerer starts his approach to the house.

Dread emanating from the dark abode? So, a typical excursion. It does not seem to slow Stephen's approach as he steps up onto the porch, casts a sideward glance to the shattered picture window that seems to be the entrance of choice...

...and pushes on the front door, having the wooden barrier swing inward, hinges screaming in protest at the motion. "Interesting. And here I am, without a camera, to capture the enthusiasm."

Well, at least Strange didn't just come out and asked why they didn't bother to open the door.

He pauses as Illyana offers a warning. "Oh. She sounds like an absolute delight. Second Circle, you say? I will be sure to be on my guard, my dear." Well, considering that he is there with his wife...Stephen better be on his best behavior. As if he could be tempted.

Which is to say...yes. Yes Strange absolutely could be. Which is why, for those perceptive enough, the sorcerer does seem to be more on his guard than just waltzing in nonchalantly.

Clea has posed:
The window is smashed in and then they have guests! The scene is...gruesome.

Bill is stripped to the waist and laid in the middle of chalk drawings and there is blood all over the room. The young man being used as a juice box of sorts. Hunched over the man is a twisted form. The mottled black skin slick with fresh blood. The most upsetting part of this whole thing is the fact that the mouth of the demon is very reminescent of a lamprey. Rows and rows of sharp teeth have been buried into the young mans chest where the life is being slowly and painfully sucked out of him.

But that hold breaks when the glass shatters and there is a sharp look to those that interrupt her meal and there is a hiss that follows.

Meanwhile outside, the cat settles down to eat the chicken jerky and ignores the cries of the scared human. Typical cat.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Sonja is very, very happy now as she sees her adversary. "Excellent! Come, let us skewer you and send you back to the pits from whence you were spawned!" She goes to let out a high pitched cackle and then is going to charge on in with blade held high! She's going to charge in towards the main body of the vampiric entity that was trying to devour the poor chap.

Intent very much on adding to the mutilatory viscera spread everywhere in a technicolor dreamcoat spewing all about if she could.

... Someone may want to make sure that the boy doesn't end up in -quite- the same area of the chops. Mostly. Then again they can always reattach important bits.. Probably. Maybe.

THis isn't a scenario of 'use sword on monster'. This is an attempt at making puree without a chainsaw.

Bring a raincoat!

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt doesn't immediately bring the lightning because, well, the kid is there. So she flies in with the speed of Artemis to pull the kid clear before Sonja goes all kersplatter on the demon. Fortunately, the thing about super-speed is that you can outpace most things. And she doesn't have a raincoat... but she can probably get one at the local thrift mart and get back in time. As it is, she picks Bill up with ease and carries the kid out the broken window, descending down to the entrance and shouting, "STRANGE! I need a Doctor here!"

Well, he's Doctor Strange, right? He knows medicine and things... or at least a cure wounds spell, right?

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Chinese food or parlours would be preferable." The Demon Queen nods to this wise piece of advice, and throws a few chocolate-covered espresso beans in her mouth for fuel to deal with whatever lies ahead. Isn't it kind for Strange to give the others a headstart? The doctor receives an arch look from Illyana, on this side of the cutting edge of challenging. "You want them to have all the stories for meeting time?"

As close as she can get to cracking a joke. Just wait to see the look on her face when she hits the upper floor where the lamprey-faced demon is hard at work, completely against type to video games, literature, and art produced in the last half-century. No voluptuous pin-up girl there. Unless she played the long game.

Her hands stay empty to negotiate a convenient step through empty space. No super-speed or floating Cloak conveys her. Dimensional rifts spring up with blue fire around her, a thin lens that swallows her in a step and reconnects inside the house. A quick glance around confirms no immediate toothed doorways to eat them.

"How fun. The decor is terrible." Bill's horrific state in Mary's arms is quickly noted, her eyes narrowing. "Poor man."

Corben Kelly has posed:
"Raprap, taptap, Let's just hope none of us end up Nevermore tonight, yeah?" Corben replies from raven form before he makes just as quick transformation back into human man after he finally steps inside. It's just about then that he actually takes note of Stephen. Oh. Dear. God. "I'm gonna die," he mumbles. If Stephen Strange needs to be here, Corben is WAY out of his league.

Then he actually takes time to survey the room. "Yeah, I'm so dead. That is one /fugly/ mother sucker." - see what he did there?

Behind him, Pup says, "I'll jump in front of you before that happens."

"You're not even corporeal!" This time he doesn't bother to whisper. He starts digging around in his pockets, going through the small vials by feel. Alas, no 'banish nightmare eel mouthed demon' spell on hand tonight. "Not it," he says for the second time tonight. No, he will not be the first one to engage /that/.

Transforming three times in such short succession is going to have him sleeping off a hangover for days, but it's really the only thing he knows to do in this situation. So back to bird he goes. It's tight quarters for flight, but he has to do something. He's the distraction, but definitely NOT the first to engage. He flies up to the ceiling, then down... dive bombing the demon as if he was a bluejay, not a raven. Shameful. If he can get a good peck in and not get eaten or face sucked by that thing, he will. Then he'll fly out of arm's... uh... sucker mouth reach and repeat the process again. "Do not," dive, peckpeck, "turn me," up again, "into raven nuggets," dive peckpeck. The words are directed at Mary Jane, of course. But he's like a little gnat diving at that thing over and over again and that beak IS sharp, Ms. Beacon. Didn't she tell him to stay sharp?

"Glad you could make it!" In the direction of anyone that decided, wisely, that taking the stairs was a better option.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Was that about the guy with the glass-rattling or the cat, Illyana?" Balm asks in amusement to the answer of the question, but she gives a disturbed sound as they come into the scene. Bill is in bad shape, Lamprey-Face is missing their date with Timothee Chocolate Factory Guy, and Balm switches to recovery mode.

    Sonja is going high, so Balm goes low, coming round and out to follow Thunderbolt out, breaking the window the rest of the way with a 'I take it back about the first floor parlors, we got one!' uttered under her breath, and she skids on the ground a little.

    "Hey -- hey, let Strange handle the demon. I'm a healer, I'm Balm." she explains, re-introducing herself to Thunderbolt with a slight smile.

    "If there's a rend that leads to any Hell, Illyana and Dr. Strange can handle it with Red and the new guy -" she trails off, her hands beginning to glow with her healing magics.

    "I'll be able to mend him and get rid of any stain the demon left behind -- might need a hand holding him down if he decides to get lively, though."

Stephen Strange has posed:
Honestly, despite the fact that the Sorcerer Supreme is actually present, he really isn't doing all that much. Walking in, seeing a scene that could very well have been lifted from a cult 80's horror movie, and witnessing a decidedly unattractive demoness (maybe?) in the midst of feeding? Stephen doesn't do so much as bat an eye. Though, seriously, with the black mottled skin and the mouth full of circular rows of teeth, there is little chance of Stephen wanting to get too close to that. A succubus she isn't.

However, there is a slight rolling of the eyes as the resident barbarian of the group leaps into the fray, without care for her own well-being...or the poor fool being used as a snack. "Well, I would be lying if I said that was completely unexpected."

After the elaborate entrance, complete with needless window breakage? Yeah, it seemed par for the course. There is even a quick flick of the wrist as an arcane shield flashes into existence, conjured for the express purpose of reflecting demon ichor back towards its source.

Raincoat not needed.

Strange does, however, keeps an eye out...looking for that crack between dimensions to close. And completely ignoring Mary's request for a doctor. Not because he is an ass. Okay...so maybe the good Doctor is kind of an ass at times. No, it is because he knows Phoebe has things covered...and closing the rift is the most effective use of his time.

Clea has posed:
The demon knows she is NO match for anyone that has come to this place. Well...yeah no, she can't take any of them really. Though she does eye Corben like he might be the next snack should she live!

She hisses again, blood and gore dripping from her mouth, but it's all show. Very big bark, itty bitty bite. "You act like you all don't indulge in a treat once in awhile!" she shouts at them. Stamping a foot at that.

Then she makes a break for it. Heading for the window that was broken...

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt sees the demon leaping out the window, then says to Balm, "Okay, hold that thought." She then launches herself up into the air, shouting, "SHORYUKEN!" as she uppercuts the demon right on its gross-lamprey-like-face. Then, she follows it with a spinning kick in midair to knock it back /into/ the house through that broken window.

Because while it might be merciful to just lightning bolt the thing a dozen times... after seeing what it did to Bill, Mary is not exactly high on mercy for that demon today.

Corben Kelly has posed:
"I don't taste very good, my insides are too pickled," Corben croaks from flying around up near the ceiling. He knows that look from when his ex... He's perfectly content to let the bigger guns give chase first. Once he sees the thing heading for the window and others giving chase, he lands and, for the fourth time, transforms. After he's a real boy, he surveys the blood splatter on his coat. "Anyone paying for my dry cleaning?" he deadpans, but it has to be a joke, man barely looks like he does his own laundry let alone pay some else to do it.

Seriously! They couldn't have continued this outside? Duck, Dodge, Run. That's how Corben typically deals with trouble. Not so easy when one is caught completely unaware by the trouble. He's pretty quick though, so he manages to not get completely smashed against the wall opposite the window - just kind of smashed. Never mind, he's really not /that/ quick. "...oooof," is all he manages when the demon hits him and they both it the wall and bounce back off it.

In his defence Pup /did/ get between Corben and the demon for all the good it didn't do. Air oh sweet air, why did you leave me? If he's destined to be dinner, he's going to be dinner. All he can do at the moment is lay on his back and try to remember how to breathe.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Balm, meanwhile, is hard at work on the outside. Her hands aglow, she works her healing magic through Billy's body. The wounds from the lamprey teeth close quickly, flesh knitting as the dermal layer beneath restores. Long bones are encouraged to produce blood.

    It doesn't take very long, and Phoebe can feel the familiar cooling sensation along her arms as Billy is filled with Light and Healing, purifying and easing him back to his pre-juicebox state of existence while the others fight Lampreyface and return it to the second level of Hell.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
An act of trust; Balm or Strange will see to Bill. This much is taken on faith.

The portal collapses behind the blonde woman as glass crashes from Thunderbolt's mighty chop refusing exit to the succubus. Violence stains a psychic crimson resonance to the puddled hunger and suffering that washes around Illyana. She relocates into the thick of trouble in the gloomy horror house, shunted to a spot not so far from where Corben smashes into the floor. The better not to trip over him.

She would have sympathy for the hard landing under better circumstances. As it is, she dismisses anyone breathing to levy that bland stare on the lamprey-mouthed walking nightmare.

"You 'indulged' on a child."

Human larynxes struggle to produce the range of sounds and tones used by infernal denizens. Vocal chords burst or bleed. Illyana sculls in befouled linguistic pools, selectively dropping into the demonic language reserved for the Hell Lords. Pitiless jury, then. <<Queens do not ask permission.>>

Her hand rises. Space tears behind the lesser demon. The Soulsword hurtles through the rift for infernal flesh crackling with pure fire, bypassing mortal flesh to incinerate anything of hellish origins. Executioner.

Stephen Strange has posed:
It is truly a sight to behold. The seemingly lackidaisical Sorcerer Supreme just strolling through the literal house of horrors, deflecting gore and bile away while he casually searches for the breach until the Demon Queen of Limbo makes her move. There isn't any audible signal given. No visual cue to indicate Illyana's vengeful intent. It is merely the fact that the two are indeed partners that causes both to move in unison.

The shift is immediate. When one swings the sword, the other ducks down, cape billowing behind him as Strange catches exactly where the incursion occurred. A break in the chalk line, slight but enough to allow the summoning circle to be breached. And...there, plainly evident with Strange's more mystical senses, is the tear that has all the earmarkings of sloppy summoning. Both hands swing around, as fingers, trained for surgery, reach down to stitch the fabric of reality back together. Despite how damaged those hands may appear, the sorcerer makes sewing dimensions close look like a simple task. No needles required, though there may be the faintest line of golden thread visible that disappears into the aether.

Once the repair is completed, the sorcerer stands. But not before a blast of eldritch light leaps from his hands, momentarily blinding any poor soul that happens to be watching. Once sight returns, the imperfect summoning circle and all the arcane markings are gone. Blasted into atoms. Even the dust that was present before from being an abandoned house is gone. A perfect circle of absolute cleanliness.

"We will not have to worry about seeing the likes of that one in the future. Not from here, in any case."