17066/JLD Book Club III: The Widow's Wailing

JLD Book Club III: The Widow's Wailing
Date of Scene:	11 February 2024
Location:	Scottish Highlands -- Murray Dig
Synopsis:	In a barrow in Scotland, Belinda Gutierrez, Richard Stadler, Zatanna Zatara and Daniel Ketch -- with Frank Noble (GRENADE MAN!) - save the widows, enter the barrow, take the book THe Widow's Wail, and escape with their hearing intact.
Cast of Characters:	Nettie Crowe, Belinda Gutierrez, Daniel Ketch, Frank Noble, Zatanna Zatara, Richard Stadler

---

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Picture this, if you will. The sweeping shots of the gray-green moors, rocky outcroppings and tower ruins of brown and gray stone and broken tinder. Pipes playing hauntingly and echoing. The distant sights of lochs and ancient forests, kept to nobility and now haunted by ghosts.

    The Murray Dig is among a remote section near the Scottish coast, nestled between dagger-like hills. Recent protests have arrisen following the purchase by a private US citizen of these lands, ancestrally belonging to myriad clans and of disputed claim -- but money talks.

    Until the people started disappearing. Widows of men lost by war, by accident, or by illness. The village has whisper of ghost, of ancient specters that keen and wail announcing who will be the next to die.

    And weirdly, there is no one by the name of Crowe in the village.

    The Justice League Dark has caught wind of this, and Nettie, unwilling to contend with a creature too close to something that stole her ability to die a natural death, has no desire to tempt fate for a supernatural one either.

    So she's in Inverness, on other tasks, dispatching (ABSOLUTELY NOT DEPLOYING, STADLER), a volunteer group to take a look at the barrow grave that was found entwined beneath the tower at the dig.

    She had seen a book in her crystal ball, and beleives this may be the key.

    So as night deccends on this dig, our heroes arrive via hellish portal from Inverness to this remote locale. The mission?

    Find the missing widows.

    Find the book

    Return with your hearing intact.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
In a world of the highest tech and rawest digital answers to every conundrum, it is still the firmest truism that sometimes the old way of doing things are still the best, as proven by the great grey wolfcreature, Silverdane, holding the comically fragile-seeming shawl in oversized hands. Stealing a long, deep breath, long and deep. Exhale, before scenting anew, breath upon the wind.

"This is the most recent person vanished," she says gruffly, quietly to the others. "But even then... on ragged edge of tracking down properly. Wind, rain may have destroyed scent outside. No way to be sure unless can get into barrow-cave-hill-thingy. Grrf." Shawl in one hand, she stalks around the dig site, snuffling, scenting carefully, ever-widening circles as she paces out her search. Finding book is important; finding victims, moreso!

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Daniel has been dispatched, but not deployed. Once again he managed to find a weekend to leave New York, only this time it is not Paris, but the cold picturesque Scottish coast.

He should be wearing a thicker pullover. He should have purchased a bottle of liquor, at least. But he is jet-lagged. Jet-lagged, not hung-over. It is not the same, it only looks the same.

"Do we know who purchased the land?" Asks Daniel in the other's general direction. "Maybe they stirred something that was long buried. Speaking of which, who brought a shovel?"

Frank Noble has posed:
Frank Noble has crossed the heather and the moor trying to find out the mystery of the last two years and begun to unravel more mysteries. He felt he hadn?t been under one spell, but two. He saw a dimestore mystic in the French Quarter in New Orleans who had sent him to view Scottish Tapestries of all things. Something about a mad mystic warrior rescuing near drowned sailors of the Spanish Armada and making sure they got so safety, randomed years later. It was all crazy, but as he wandered walking back to the hotel before flying back in the morning, still not sure he had any more answers, he moved well past the setting sun realizing that the directions he had been given were likely wrong. As it was, he was just looking for any sign of civilization to make a phone call, get cell phone reception or something...anything.


He spots lights in the distance and can hear the sea salt air. Where there is water, there are people He begins to trudge in the dark Watching to see if this is actually civilization or merely a navigation buoy..

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Wrapping another loop of silk and merino scarf around her neck, Zatanna mutters about books in cold places under her breath. She pulls the wrist of each snuggly fitting leather glove up to ensure their fit, then pushes back a lock of her raven hair. A heavy black pea coat has replaced her mother's seal skin coat and low-heeled boots, fitting for archeological digs replace dress shoes.

Turning in place, the mage hides a sigh at the cold wind keening around the tower. "Who do you think that would be? Did you catch someone's scent, Belinda?"

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Stadler would have general words and definitions, and to him, sending a small specialized group to a far away local to investigate something dangerous sure sounded like deployment to him. And he should know; he had done it enough in decade and change career.

He was still trying to get used to the potrals, though, that and the... odd sort of driving. He could have sworn you couldn't get to Scotland from the FDR, but somehow through some misty fog they had gotten there, giving Rick enough to to get kitted out in what he knew.

The AO wasn't exactly a combat zone at the moment ,and there was still a chance that there could be non combatants on sight. It meant that BDUs were out, and a simple set of cargo pants and a tough work shirt were the order of the day, a warm jacket both keeping the wind out and doing a good job of hiding the armored vest strapped over his jest, and the UMP .40 sub machine gun strapped to a sling in front of him. His hand rested lightly on the grip, finger off the trigger, as he exhaled a cold breath. The temperature change was, indeed, rapid. Like walking into air conditioning.

"You've got the nose for it, Gutierrez. If the barrow's where we're going, then let's head that way in. If you wouldn't mind taking point."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    The latest among the missing, the last name that was keening on the wind before the old crowe herself: Millie Robinson. The youngest widow of the village, at only twenty-eight, with two small children left behind when a freak accident at the dig had taken the life of her husband, a laborer. Their two children were currently in the care of her mother, after Millie's name had been heard. Then she disappeared from walking home from getting the mail.

    Belinda has one of her shawls, fetched by Millie's mother for her scent. Wind and rain and the heady scent of grasses and heather interrupt, but the scent here is strong, and almost has an earthy quality to it.

    Belinda can be lead down towards the barrow proper, which has its 'table top' of a massive stone and two supporting stones, creating a sort of portal into the hillside.

    Daniel (dispatched, not deployed) would find a number of shovels of farying sizes. Little trowels to large spades with sturdy fibreglass and wood handles. Some are possibly dangerous.

    The people coming out of the portal provide additional light as a crow accompanies them. Corvax holds an electric lantern in his beak, which helps keep him quiet, but he rounds about and lands on Stadler's shoulder.

    "Fob dur un oo con' shee en ee 'arc." he croaks out.

    Belinda definitely has the nose for the job.

    And as Frank approaches the grouping, the winds pick up. Keening, quietly, with the sounds of women weeping, sweeping up from the barrow and into the rapidly decending night.

    The ruined tower has electrical lights strung up, but the generator's not turned on or running. There doesn't seem to be any security. Oddly, no people at all, just a small 'KEEP OUT' sign, and 'PRIVATE PROPERTY'.

    But who follows that?

    Those with supernatural senses are going to start feeling tingles of energy trailing down the backs of necks. The arrival of something dangerous, creeping about at the edges of the shadows and sizing up who is the most dangerous -- Zatanna, likely, is remarked upon. Daniel Ketch. Belinda -- one touched by the wolf.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"Millie Robinson," Belinda-- Silverdane answers Zatanna, keeping the shawl folded gently around her fingers. "She was the most recent. Her madre` provided the clothing." She gazes down at the violet shawl briefly, forlornly, biting back a sigh before shaking her head roughly, turning back to her search with renewed focus. "...she should not have been wandering around alone...." A sharp ear perks towards Mr. (Professor!) Stadler, nodding briefly before she throws herself into the search. Circle exchanged for weaving approach-- less attention paid to the nearby machine excavator (i.e. backhoe digger) than on following the faintes traces of scent.

"Workers' smells overshadowing, interfering...." Silverdane murmurs quietly, "But... there might be something."

Sudden, rapid-- stopping short with a sudden, eyes-locked stillness. Nostrils, quivering. Ears sharp, perked forward, the whole of her utterly motionless.

"...something there."

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Daniel is mostly harmless, even with a shovel. Shotguns don't pass airport controls and he thought they would use one, so he came unarmed-ish. "Millie Robinson is one of the missing women, not the one that purchased this..." and he grows quiet, as something is there, indeed.

Rude, they didn't even have to start digging or do anything even mildly spooky before someone comes to bother them. "On the positive side, we aren't going to have to spend the night looking for them. Heads up, guys and gals, we are being stalked."

Frank Noble has posed:
Frank Noble begins walking towards the light which then tapers out. Then he hears voices, and he is about to shout out when he sees something else. Frank doesn't have magical senses"but the helm does. And as he senses the fowl wind, Frank gets an odd look in his eye. For a moment, he tries to fight it, and is getting better at it each time, but for now, the madness comes upon him as he says, as the keening appears, "This sounds like a job for" and he ducks behind a tall rock and is surprised that he doesn't change. Of course, he can only change quickly unobserved and ducks again and rolls back and forth until he rolls into a large shrubbery since there is another observer he doesn't see.

Then he stands, "FOR GRENA-" The normally sure footed nimble fellow slips on a large flat rock, the large spike in the top of his head firmly sticking into a large plastic bucket from the dig, as he holds his arms out in front of him trying to figure out where he is being unable to see ...or hear.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Poor Millie."

A petite frisson of magic strokes Zatanna's temples and flirts with the hair on the back of her neck. The gentle touch belies its source. She slows, sending a pulse of magic to tease out the sender, invisible except to witches, mages, and other creatures that might be haunting the dig. Silverdane's words echo her senses.

"Indeed there is. We have something waiting to welcome us. But it's not a friendly welcome. Exactly Daniel! Keep alert!"

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Stadler winces slightly as there's a slight thump on his shoulder, turning a bespecled gaze to the crow alighting there. "I'm afraid I don't speak lantern." He notes, before continuing forward. The light was still something he's like to keep around him, even if it made someone a bit of a target. He's certainly deal with that.. if it came to it.

Belinda's debrief was quick and two the point, and she did happen to take the front. It did require a bit of a call out. "Don't go too far ahead. Spooky here, so this isn't exactly a place to get split up." He'll note... and would freeze when Belinda, like a bit of a guard dog, has her hackles up. Not to mention the rest detecting that something was about. "Don't like getting suprised like that." He mutters, bringing the UMP up to his shoulder, peering through the red dot as he scans for targets. "Anything higher resolution, here? Type? Location?"

He keeps his eyes forward, but grimaces. He was sure these people were very good at what they were doing (and certainly Ms... Zatara has the look of someone who knew what magic was), but he didn't know if they were familiar with keeping to their zones.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Something is there. Something is dangerous. Something is watching.

    There's a pale blue shimmer crawling, spider-like, down the tower. Those who can see into the astral can see its wizened, skull like face, pale blue dots peering out of the void instead of its eyes, thin, scraggling hair floating as if in water as the spirit makes its way closer. The winds pick up. The wailing of women is getting louder, carried on it, cries for help. Begging for freedom with the whispers of their husbands' names.

    Belinda can pick on the sharp, metallic tang of blood on the wind. The pricking of a finger, the slice of sharp scissors through the back of a hand.

    Tha casg air fir. Is e seo uaigh na bantraich. whispers the voice, carried on the wind beneath the sounds of weeping as the blue smoke draws closer to the ground.

    De do ghniomhachas an seo?

    "Crmmnigbgwberkjwberkkk--" comes the reply from Corvax, adn the bird turns his head to drop the lantern he was carrying for Stadler's benefit.

    "Don't s'pose any you lot speak th' tongue?" he asks, unsure.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"...sprichst du Deutsch? Speak German?" Silverdane manages hesitantly, raised hackles quivering ever-sharper. Scent, raw, bloody, cold and hot and--

The wolf-woman snarls, fangs bared as her eyes narrow behind the domino of her mask. Instinctively rising to full biped stance, she steps back, gazing towards the strange, blue swirl drawing near. Unable to make out more, indistinct-- she braces herself, eyes glittering, watching it weave and meander.

"...cannot see it," she rumbles, taking note of her position, the places of others. Already stalking, moving, side-stepping with care. Watching that blue haze like a hawk.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Daniel can't see astral forms, but he can sense the presence of the ghost to a point. Oh, and that wailing. He was not sure if he was the only one hearing it, if it was just in his head, but it looks like the others are also able to notice.

"Coming down from the tower," he guesses, "is it glowing? And who is the odd guy with the hat?" He remembers him from Paris, but he never introduced himself.

Frank Noble has posed:
Grenademan cant hear this of course, the only thing he hears is the wailing of captured souls. The language is familiar even though the context has been robbed from him.^^^"The mi gu math dullish, the mi god chluinntinn a brushing High Duck a brushing act am bucked see gam win mo cheann gas am bi a guile dad a Chanas tu a faireachdainn michinnteach agus neonach, ach tha mi a cluintinn caoneadh naaman a the air a chard agus the foils gam aura shakil the lad, coir an aghaidh fear...GRENADMAN!!!"

Its an impressive speech in High Duck and maybe Superman could understand the muffled gibberish under the helm, though it does look a bit off as he stands on the tall rock he tried to hide behind earlier, cape swirling in the dark wind, bucket on his head as he stands there nobly.

He realizes he may be facing the wrong way and takes out a small vial of acid to make a pair of eye holes, Charlie Brown Halloween style, in the bucket. He can see, and turns 90 degrees to face the creature. Even if he can?t see her, he knows the direction she is.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     "That doesn't exactly sound German." RIchard says, his tone low, both to Corvax's question and to Silverdane's valiant attempt to try a language that works. He's moved to putting his finger on the trigger, and evne if he can't see into the ether and veil to the other world, he can see that slowly crawling blue fog from the tower. "Language barrier as it is, it would be helpful to figure out what it was saying. I assume pulling out a phone and asking it what it's saying wouldn't exactly be picked up, and I wasn't expecting to need a Gaelic to English phrase book."

He's moving a bit, taking a bit of cover behind some digging equipment. "Understanding or no, I'm liabel to fire a few warning shots if it reaches ground level and decides to float over. Don't like shooting something we don't understand."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Magic calls. Zatanna instinctively raises her eyes to the flickering light swimming towards them. Head back, eyebrows knit in concentration, she watches the apparition approach, "Something comes. The barrow wright has arrived to greet us, though not all of us are welcome. It...She does not like men here."

After the wailing voice speaks, Zatanna does not reply immediately; instead, she tells the others, "I don't trust her, and she definitely does not wish us well." After a deep intake of breath, "An tusa neach-gleidhidh a bhearraidh? Chan eil duine againn a' guidhe ort no an t-aite seo tinn. (Are you the guardian of the barrow? None of us wish you or this place ill.)

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    The smoke does not reply to Belinda. It seems to regard everyone in their turn, the air beginning to crackle with the wind. The electric lights strung around the site beign to whip through the air, plastic protective cages striking agaisnt the stone wrought by ancient hands, some even passing through the form of the lady clinging, upside and impossibly positioned in the astral.

    There's a low hissing sound, the head tilts, and then she raises her hands and begins keening again. The smell of blood grows stronger to Belinda, and is beginning to be carried on the wind to those without the olfactory sensations.

    The pressure in the area increases. The man with the bucket on his head with acid holes burned in for eyes is the closest when something reaches through the veil and lashes out.

    Shovels rise up and try to whack Grenademan forward and further into the grouping, towards the tower and the barrow.

    There's a wolf-like snarling, claws against the sound of the stones surrounding the dig site and an evil, deep rumbling, like stones grinding against each other in the deep earth -- the creature rears up and leaps at Zatanna first, eyes burning red like the embers of Hell.

    Demonic in origin. It's snuck in under the other spirit's cover, and now it searches for blood!

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane-- cooler. But not totally frosty yet. The clong of flying shovels draws a startled glance from the werewolf; bright eyes widen as the thing, the creature... dark and shadow and night and light conspiring to cut the creature's full view from her sight.

"Atento!" she cries out throatily, falling into the Spanish for precious seconds too many. The beast is leaping at Zatanna; Silverdane falls to all fours, lunging forward desperately. "Zee! Look out!"

No time to get there, no TIME--

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Yeah, a shovel won't do it. Daniel feels a chill as the ghosts attack them. But no burning fury trying to reach reality through him. It is strange, are there not innocents in danger? What about the widows?

"Silver... can you find the missing women?" He asks the werewolf just as what seems to be a demon appears and attacks. "What the hell? That isn't a ghost! It must be after the book!"

Frank Noble has posed:
Frank Noble reaches for an explosive grenade. They are clever little things with regulatory amounts that determine the cesium water reaction to anything as small as 10 feet to anything as large as a fireball a hundred feet wide. But what he doesnt know is that he cant kill people and while he might be Invulnerable because he is a hero and good doesn't lose, ^therefore...(turtles all the way down.)

He doesn't know the moral status of his companion, and reaches for a rapier that isn't there?and he wonders why he checked?as he gets shovel herded towards the others at one point picking up a stick in ghost muscle memory that works but is also barely working because he has no idea why he know HOW to use a stick and is extremely confused.


Ultimately, he decides on something less dangerous and shouts, "Fire in the hole" while unintelligible, the tone of voice is remarkably clear to his intent as he tosses a flash grenade, dialed down to its smallest radius of only three feet right in the vicinity of the nearest spirit.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"We are here for the book. What a waste, being polite," the violent wind whips Zatanna's words away into the surrounding moor. The smell of blood and ozone fills the air as magic crackles around them. Light and shadow careen drunkenly across the site and the open mouth of the barrow. Just just as NOble warns the group, the world turns white.

Deafened and blinded by the grenade, Zatanna does not hear the scrape of claws on stone. Belinda's cry saves her. Occult words pierce the air as she lifts a hand, hurling a protective shield between the oncoming claws and those near her.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     The scent of blood grows stronger, enough that even Stadler can wrinkle his nose at it. Not an unfamiliar scent, the copper, metallic in the nose, and from here, strong indeed. That hissing sound grows louder, mixed with that mournful cry, the tension around them ratcheting up as the lights only provide sound, instead of the light that might provide some comfort.

Richard's hand tightens on the trigger, his eyes moving over toward the odd man with the bucket on his head. He might regret it, but if he wanted to hurt them, now was the time. And the threat in front of them seems much more prescient.

"I don't think-"

He starts, before /something/ comes from that wailing. Something else, and the scent of blood grows ever stronger, and this time, Rick knows he has a target. The weapon snaps over to the snarling thing, trigger pulled twice before his head quickly turns away at the call. "Goddamn it!" He says, blinking to clear the aftereffect, even through eyelids, and urgently tries to resight on the thing.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "JAYSUS!" Corvax barks.

    All Hell breaks loose as the larger creature attacks, claws on stone and briefly lighting up the area as it strikes Zatanna's shield.

    IT's vaguely hunchbacked, neck thick and short. Head small and well teethed, jaws strong, teeth jagged. Nothing but the Abyss in its eyes as its claws reach out to try and grab at Zee, brilliant and lit up by Grenade Man'.

    Rick lights up the night with gunfire -- it strikes the creature, causing it to rear back as vision lights up, maw opening wide before light of a different sort brightens the dig.

    Hellfire, the roar of Hellfire and the cracking of chains.

    It happens so fast, the roars mingling and merging as the burning skull of a Ghost Rider streak through the night.

    The shield, the distraction from the flashbangs and Rick's fire all manage to catch the creature long enough for Danny Ketch's other half to grasp it, drag it -- knocking against the generator and rattling it to awful life -- and then up the ridge and over the cliff, with echoing, horrible laughter following suit.

    There's opportunity now, the women are waiting, the book certainly is in the barrow.

    What will the remaining heroes do?

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The blast of the flash grenade draws a pained howl of surprise from Silverdane. The pouncing lunge is swiftly called to a halt; rubbing her eyes fiercely, the wolf bares her fangs at the duo battling savagely just out of reach. Focus, draw breath, *concentrate*-- be calm, chill down, be frosty. Like a tingle, a flicker of remembering, the brief touch of the Frostbound Manuscript at the back of the mind; the hammering of her heart calms reluctantly, settling as she takes a longer, deeper breath. Bloodscent, so strong as to be brutal-- she exhales as she turns back towards the tower and the Barrow, rising back to her feet.

Focus.

Giving the blue hazy imagery a cautious glance, she cuts an arc around the mass, racing back towards the barrow entry. Down, in, listen to that 'feeling' at the back of her teeth, the itch and tingle in her brain.

"Am chasing into the Barrow!" she calls out, lunging down to lope and surges and race.

Hoping against hope. Trust the nose! That fragment, that inkling of a scent....

Frank Noble has posed:
Grenademan is at a major tactical disadvantage to the others. He doesnt know why they are here, how the Banshee is holding the women captive or what the group is after. But, he does see that his warning was not as effective as it could be. As it is, he does recognize Zatanna and so watches the others to figure out what is going on. For a few moments he tries to get the bucket off, but thats not happening with the spike through it.

He watches and waits.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Claws destined to disembowel her scrape against the shield. Zatanna winces at the sound then inhales deeply and pulls herself together.

"I'm going in after Belinda," she announces loudly, breaking into a jog.

A faint glimmer surrounds her as she heads into the dark maw of the barrow. Just as the scent of blood and darkness is about to engulf her, she stretches out her arm and opens her hand. A small ball of light appears in her palm and expands as it rises over their heads. It dances ahead of her, illuminating the dark interior.

Richard Stadler has posed:
     It happened so fast, after the flash bang detonated; someone... one of the people they came with, just.. streaked over, as if... or possibly fire, grabbing the creature and taking it back over the barrow, over a cliff, the sound breaking off into the distance.

Rick went through an automatic motion; muscle memory of removing the stick clip from the weapon, checking the load... had it only been two bursts? Reseating the clip, before adjusting his glasses slightly. Deep breath. "I... all right. I need..." Another breath. "I'll have to hope he isn't dead." He states. Dossiers. He hadn't had the time, but he had the access, No excuse to not know what that man's capabilities were before he secured their deliverance.

The man wearing the bucket with a set of grenades gets a look. "Communicate the type, next time. Other's aren't going to recognize the shape and I don't think we'll have a... a demon to help us out next time." He says. "You have a name-"

Oh, goddamn /fucking/ teenagers. A turn to Silverdane to ask if she was all right is cut as she dashes out in front of them, going in and lops down to the Barrow itself. "For god's sake-' He starts, before Zatara starts off at a jog. His curses would have to be muffled as he moved at a jog itself, the light provided by magic at least saving a glowstick. "I swear, I am going to have a talk with that girl to see if something sticks in that bacon-addled head of hers."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Into the barrow they go. Belinda rushes first. The barrow is cool and peaceful. It smells of earth, of clay and roots, of soft moss and that slightly sweet smell that comes with all gravesites. The pathway dances downwards at an angle, and twists hard to the left before it comes to A Room.

    A large room, with a stone table. The stone table is laid out with fruits and meats that positively scream DO NOT TOUCH.

    ARound the table are seated the twelve missing women; they appear to be asleep.

    And int he middle of the table there is a book. It is bound in leather and wood, and is colored palest blue and gold.

    Around the table, the women, and the offerings there are large divots in the wall, where in lay the remains of those who were interred here before. Each one has different grave goods, but they all appear feminine in origin.

    This is a tomb of widows.

    Corvax, meanwhile, alights nearby Grenade Man as Stadler runs off after Belinda.

    "So. Is the bucket on the head a new fashion from that... fort-tok thing?" he asks in mild curiosity.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
In the barrow, that overwhelming scent of blood and death nad pain--- suddenly gone, muffled, dispelled by the scent of cool, of calm, of tranquil-- of soil and earth, of faintest moisture and the sweetness that lingers in passing. Silverdane scrabbles to a stop in the comparitive narrow of the room, eyes adjusting as Zatanna's mystic light comes sweeping along with her, finally scattering its simple, crystalline light across the chamber.

"Dios," she whispers, swallowing thickly. Seconds to take in the scents, the sights. Alive, those sitting at the table, motionless; long dead, those occupying the ledges, the burial divots. And it clicks, like a dire memory.

"The Evil Spirit," she says quietly. "It-- she-- ensorcelled those women when they were vulnerable. Lured them here. Chained their... spirits. Souls. To herself, to become ponderosa, to become mighty. She is.... is eating them!"

Cool fades away in a flash, like mist before the morning sunrise. Fury takes command, and the Wolf snarls; striding forward with a snarl of hot, savage anger, she smashes a fist down on the stone table, setting the various ancient platters and vessels and cups into a startled jumping.

"No mas!" Silverdane growls, reaching out, seizing the book with a savage vengeance. "No more! La cena, this supper of souls is over. Now and forever!"

Frank Noble has posed:
Like Maxwell Smart and the cone of silence, Grenademan answers Richard in the two parts he understands, "Right, good point. Will remind people Grenade Type next time. Like Anime. I can announce my attacks. Good idea! And if you asked who I am, I am the Mighty GRENADEMAN. I fight the forces of...are they going into the cave...they'rere going into the cave aren't they?"


To Corvax he tilts the bucket to the side Cockerspaniel style, and then says, "no, I am not a model, this is my actual costume and these are real Grenades. Your English ix excellent; I don't even hear a trace of Caw. My apologies if I misunderstood you but I don't read beaks and there is a bucket on my head. It is definitely obnoxious." Like him. He also, idly, wonders what Caw is before racing after the others into the DUNGEON OF DOOM!!!!

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The odor of damp earth and old death softened by time greet the Mage as she jogs after Belinda. The light bobs ahead of her scraping along the low ceiling, down the narrow corridor the width of a coffin and coffin bearers. Up ahead, Zatanna senses an aura of magic and she slows warily at the sharp turn.

The globe slows awaiting its creator. Zatanna comes to a stop at the entrance to the room, then sends it ahead to light the table and its centerpiece. It plays on the nodding heads of the widows ranged around the feast. Silverdane's words crash, overloud in the quiet serenity of death.

Belindsa's anger explodes, scattering food and sending tableware crashing to the floor. One quick stride takes Zatanna into the room. Her anger burns coldly. Regally, the mage raises a hand and gestures. The book rises and floats to her waiting hands. Before it arrives, she circles her hand imperatively, "Awake! And leave this evil place."

Richard Stadler has posed:
     "Grenademan." Rick says, as they hustle forward, following a wolf into some other creature's den. "No need to be flashy. Just the type will do. Communication." A bit more of a hustle into the dirt; the smell was pleasant here, earth and loom, after a rainstorm, maybe. At least when it wasn't pressed too close over the mouth. "Though I imagine that 'Grenadier' would have bene the better-"

They were finally at the destination, and it was... disturbing. People were here. Sleeping, it looked like, though he didn't know exactly how to rouse them. A hand, moving over to the nearest one, two fingers placed on the neck, as he searched for a pulse. "Eating them? Mystically? Does that mean they're still-

He winces at the powerful reaction from Silverdane. Not that he could blame her, or Zatana as she casts some spell, calling the book forward.

He was out of his depth in regards to both the mumbo and the jumbo. He could have sword holy water would have been involved, but he's be content if they could save 12 lives today in addition to getting that book.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Corvax blinks a moment, and his head tilts.

    "Yeah mate, I don't even know what t' do with some of these kids." the crow replies, and takes off, going to fly over the tower, keeping a wary eye on bucket head.

    Inside the barrow, the book rises upon command, and as it rises, the food around the sleeping women turns to stone.

    Color returns to each woman's face, and one by one, they awaken. Many are older, gray-or-white-haired. Some are in their forties.

    And yes, Millie is here as well, and she awakes last, looking confused as she rouses.

    The women begin to whisper to one another in Scotts before Millie turns to Zatanna, to Richard, and Silverdane and --

    "... good lord, did I miss something?" she asks.

    The book floats to Zatanna's arms, able to be plucked out of the air.

    And Nettie's voice rings through earbuds and radios of those associated.

    "Well done team. I just got news that the interference at the digsite that was messing with their communications in the village has cleared -- GOOD LORD IS THAT-- oooooh. I'm going to have to report that one to the marketables." Nettie recounts from her comfy place in Inverness.

    "i can get you lot back safe ocne the widows returned to the village. An' thank the old girl watchin' the barrow, I wager. After all... had my name on her lips. I s'pose that makes me aprt of a club."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane glares at the fruit, the wonderful feast to the senses-- watching it turn to granite and carved stone. Fury flares hotter, clamped down with a sudden, frigid tightness; the werewolf quivers briefly, visibly livid before she groans, chuffs, contains herself with a force of effort.

Swallowing pride. Swallowing anger. Forcing the great hands to release their death grip on themselves, unfurling her fists. Be calm. Remotely.

"Is everyone all right?" she begins, glancing to each of the widows in turn. A tight space, but easier to smell health from a close distance, to gauge and ascertain with a quiet nod. She reaches up to her earbud after she makes her own satisfactions, growling softly, hotly over the commlinks.

<< "If we can imprison the creature back down here," >> she growls softly, << "...blow up the barrow. Bring down everything. Bury it for cien anos. Another thousand years!" >>

Frank Noble has posed:
Frank Noble nods to Richard as he makes more ear holes very very carefully with the acid, then a mouth hole and then drips it on a small cutting tool as he moves it up the bucket until his helm is displayed. He has to most a giant WWI German Spike with goggles and a mask, but some see weirder things, the gifted sometimes see a shaving basin, those who are chaotic see a Carmen Miranda Fruitbasket, a Fedora made of Foam, a Beerhat....many options. "Grenadier is better, but my great grandfather was the Grey Grenadier. I am not fit to use that title." As they run he points out a small colored band on his grenades, "If we meet again, the red banded ones are Cesium explosives, the green ones slick, yellow paint, black slick and blue sleep I use a rhyme to help reme...."


He looks about the room, and is glad that the women are free. He will make sure that they make it home before vanishing into the shadows. He listens to her suggestioin and says, "This is a high yield Cesium Water device....I can set it to a timer....it will....collapse the place quite well."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Belinda, calmate, querida. She can't leave the Barrow. Nettie and I will ensure that."

The book firmly in her grasp, with one finger to her ear, Zatanna listens to Nettie's voice, lips lifting into a faint smile of relief, "Well, Grandmother. I didn't expect it to be this easy. We will shepherd them back as quickly as we can. And thank her, I will, as soon as we are all out of here."

"Richard can we leave the shepherding to you and Grenademan while I take the book back to Nettie?"

Richard Stadler has posed:
     Corvax had never spoke truer words. Who knows what to do with some of these kids? Rick found it was an ever evolving process, as he could see Silverdane take a deep breath, and control her emotions. For what little it was worth, if she looks toward him, that get's an approving nod. They were going to need all hands on deck for this one, given the fact that this just became a rescue mission.

"I don't know what you're talking about easy. I think we lost a man here. Or might have. I don't suppose the man who can turn into some firey demon can survive a long drop." Maybe a bit cold, but they certainly couldn't mourn now.

"In terms of destruction, folks, the situation is clean, at the moment. If we need this place shut down violently, I have a few people I can call, but I'd like to make sure the destruction of the place won't be setting anything free. And getting these people out.

Raising his volume, he looks over to... that must be Millie. "Some trouble. I'm sure it'll be in the report, but I think w need to get you folks to civilization., Ms. Zatara, I'm sure we can play chaperone."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Yes -- yes I think so. There was a voice, telling me that it'd be all right, to trust her, because there was something that was preying on our sorrows." Millie explains, "She had me read from the book, an' then things went quiet -- Georgie and Carline -- are they all right? My children?" Millie asks as she gathers herself up. The others seem to come to a bit, with murmurs of 'Yes, I saw my grandmother--' 'Oh, I saw me ol' mam --' 'I could have sworn I heard Angus's voice before I heard my dear Aunt Margie--'

    The Widows begin to walk, helping each other. They are all very calm, no one seems terribly put out about this, not even about the very large Silverdane. It's almost supernaturally clam -- but there is no sense of evil. No pressure of darkness. Just some very rather friendly old ladies who chatter about the female relative they saw, being the last thing they recall.

    One person does pause. She points to Zatana and whispers "... I think I know your face -- have you been on the telly?' the woman asks.

    Millie, the last taken, begins to help herd the women out of the barrow.

    "Really is the oddest thing, isn't it? I felt so full of sorrows about my poor Neddie passing, felt like I was always seeing his face right over my shoulder, but... I saw my grandmum in the street. She'd passed some years back, and I just felt so peaceful, protected..." she trails off, with a soft 'huh'.

    And soon all of the widows are guided out of the tomb.

    The feeling over the barrow is now at peace. The generator is going, and the dig site is lit up with a 'FUTURE SITE OF GRAVE-X' sign overhead.