17563/The Library Aftermath

The Library Aftermath
Date of Scene:	17 April 2024
Location:	Greenwich Village
Synopsis:	The Zealots attempts one of the rituals from the book of Cagliostro...but it doesn't end well for any of them.
Cast of Characters:	Clea, Frank Noble, Corben Kelly, Stephen Strange, Illyana Rasputina

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Clea has posed:
There have been all sorts of fun things going on in the world in the last few weeks. The United Nations had been attacked by Hydra and there had been a murder at Kamar-Taj and the page of a book stolen.

The book in question? the Book of Cagliostro. The thieves of the book as supposedly one Master Kaecilius formerly of Kamar-Taj and a good number of those who have joined him. What it contains is only for very high level Masters and the Ancient One to look at...and there are not many that match that.

There had been a disturbance in Greenwich that had caused a ripple effect, the type of magic that was trying to be performed was...wrong. It made the walls of reality seem to shrink back, but not yeild.

It is something that makes a lot of people, even non-magic users notice.

The building where the marker is coming from isn't hard to find, a seemingly empty art studio that has a lot of wide open space and few obstacles. Just a large series of runes and magical glyphs that have been burned into the floor. And around it is a group of people dressed in the robes from Kamar-Taj.

Someones going to have to interrupt the party!

Frank Noble has posed:
Grenademan is here because a talking mouse, while welcome, would cause more questions than he wante dto answer, so Frank is here for him instead. The pieces all fit together about something wrong happening here, despite Right only having a few pieces of the puzzle but he is able to answer questions even Frank cant and get a pass as a magical scholar to test as the ultimate random factor shows up at the door with the appropraite signs and passwords....

Corben Kelly has posed:
'This is a terrible idea' is what Corben thought, along with an internal groan. That was right before he packed up his little leather bag filled with goodies, tossed it over his shoulder and told Kib'Kir they were heading out.

Not much longer and he's standing in the shadows near an art studio - which reminds him that he needs art supplies, mental note - with Kibs hanging out sort of wrapped around his neck like a demon-slug bat scarf.

"This smells bad, Corbs," whimpers the little sprog as it flattens itself out along Corben's neck. It then inches its way down toward one of the larger pockets of his long duster.

"Yup, this is a terrible idea," is Corben's murmured response. The very first thing he does is pull a small vial from his bag and drink it's contents before whispering, "BoogerSnots." If it works properly, it should allow him to get a better sense as to what's happening here. It'll allow him to 'see' things that aren't normally seen by other than the most mystical of eyes.

Stephen Strange has posed:
It certainly has been a busy few weeks indeed. There has not been much activity known in regards to two of Greenwich Village's more famous denizens. Other duties would seem to have taken their attention. Which, considering their combined station, would mean some rather important duties, indeed.

Even a murder at Kamar-Taj did not seem to summon the urgent attention of at one of the masters of the Mystic Arts. Perhaps it was decided to not bother him for something that should be able to be handled by the other masters. Perhaps they didn't dare try to gain his attention for fear of whatever his judgement would hold. It could be considered a wise choice.

But then, the ripple effect. The leylines trembled. The power within threatened reality. And, worse still, whoever decided to use such dark rituals decided to do it in Greenwich.

In his backyard, practically.

If nothing else, this indignity cannot stand. The protectors of the realm have taken notice. Whether the instigators like it or not, they now have the attention of the Sorcerer Supreme.

And Stephen Strange is not pleased.

And he does not believe in subtlety. A swirl of sparks appears just a few feet from the group within Kamar-Taj'ian robes. The swirl quickly coalesces into a portal...a window to what seems to be a busy street intersection. And...Strange just walks through...but he walks through with a purpose. He's angry.

"Just what is the meaning of this? Speak now and face dire consequences." Not 'or face consequences'. Apparently, Strange has already decided.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
For a Russian, attacks on government facilities by shadowy institutions rather counts as a normal experience. What would politics be without skullduggery, lies, and infiltration by ideological agents? Elementary school politics at best. Illyana has other things to do on a Wednesday night, notably monitoring a private channel on her phone used by a community of mystics with bad ideas; tracing a current of misfortune afflicting a neighbourhood southwest of Nolita.

Bad luck for whomever messed up in Greenwich Village, since she is close to home away from home.

Otherwise known as the Greenwich Village, overseen by the Ancient One's successor. Where one Doctor Strange is, the ex-masters of Kamar-Taj will find that Mrs. Rasputina-Strange is not far away.

Leaving the showy entrances to Stephen, she chooses a different path into the building on a route through a shadowy dimension. She as steps through ephemeral walls, honing in on the Sorcerer Supreme's whereabouts instead of Kaecilius or anyone else. Nothing like jumpscaring the bad guys!

Clea has posed:
Corben would be able to 'sense' that there is some heavy duty magic behind those walls. And Kibby might be able to tell him that it is not the stuff that he wants to deal with. Or Kibby can drag him on a field trip!

Frank's ringing of the door bell on the building makes Kaecilius and the Zealots look at each other in confusion and the door opens by itself to allow him entry before it is interrupted by Angry Sorceror Supreme.

While others in the group are rightfuly afraid to see him in this state, Kaecilius remains calm, even with the blackness on his face and his fingers from the spells he's been using, "Strange." he comments. "I've went to the Ancient One repeatedly to ask for his guidance and all there was on his part is inaction. I for one am tired of being denied...and I chose to call on someone that will help me..." the man trails off as another ripple of magical energy springs from the ground.

And apparently appearing out of nowhere is on the menu tonight! On the other side of the building in the vastness of the place there is the same sort of golden magic that opens into the space and out steps Master Wong, followed by a Master Clea.

They look just as unhappy!

"Ah. They are idiots." Wong comments to the white haired woman. "Kaecilius you do not know the being that you are asking for assistance, he will use you, he will not give you your love back." she states.

Kaecilius looks at the numbers and then back to Stephen, "I was hoping to do this without bloodshed." the Zealot sighs before he orders the others to take up arms against Strange and the others.

Frank Noble has posed:
Grenademan is definitely going to help with people not dying, but dark bargains with hidden powers he can understand, "You think that its harmless, seemingly helful advice and its almost impossble to come out ahead. I speak from experience....let this floating telporting gnetleman help you...whether at his hand, the forces of Good attacking Evil, or simply their inevitable betrayl, such baraings do not come out well..." he should know....but if Evil is to be fougth, Grenadema will smite.

Corben Kelly has posed:
Corben's first thought 'terrible idea' isn't disproven by the sudden appearance of Strange. In fact, it only serves to reinforce the thought.

Seems Kib'Kir agrees, "This a bad idea, Corbs."

"I *know* that."

"Then why are we here?" Kib'Kir asks. It's a valid question. To which Corben has no valid answer other than, "Ngggh, this is a terrible idea." He utters those words again before downs another of his concoctions to cloak himself a bit and starts off to find a side exit or any other way into the building that doesn't mean going *through* Stephen Strange.

Kib'Kir finally makes it into that one large pocket that's big enough to hold him before saying, "Need head examined, Corbs."

Stephen Strange has posed:
Idiots. Wong is rather direct with his assessment.

Frankly, Stephen cannot argue with it. Stealing a page from the Book of Cagliostro is one thing. Attempting to perform a forbidden ritual within eyesight of the Sanctum Santorum and not expect a retaliation? That is the definition of insanity.

Strange shakes his head in disgust. "You have no idea what you are attempting to do. A child has more sense than you." Yet, there isn't a further comment....for while there are some of Kaecilius' faithful that fear the Sorcerer Supreme...there are others that are more than willing to test their mettle with him.

And it is these zealots that leap at the chance to attack Strange. To slay the Sorcerer Supreme? What an opportunity! It does cause Strange to shift to the defensive almost immediately, such is their fervor.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The charming Friedmann equations written in 1922 that the universe is a homogenous, isotropic plane never accounted for magic. A student of intermediate studies understands space to be illusory and malleable. Masters of the Mystic Arts earn their killer travel benefits based on the principle, copper sparks included. Two observably distant points might abruptly become coterminous, despite the kilometers or different states of existence between them.

Zealots stirring to answer to Kaecilius' summons move at the speed of flesh. Illyana reacts at speed of thought. No sooner than 'hoping' is uttered than space warps, not a jot of mystical energy gilding the sundered faultlines. Wispy ethereal flames tinge the meniscus slanted in reality about the same instant the Demon Queen of Limbo lunges through, her double-handed grip on the Soulsword's hilt maneuvering the radiant blade up in a vicious swing built on the principles of iaijutsu: immediacy and precision to cut down a foe. The edges are substantial for magic -- and flesh.

Clea has posed:
The zealots don't see anyone as individuals in this regard. Everyone came with Strange and they are going to get theirs as well!

Grenade Man sort of announces himself to those that are there, so he is an easy target as a bolt of golden energy goes whizzing past his head.

Corben is able to get his ninja on and make it to where he was wanting to go!

Doctor Strange's wrath is met by the fervor of a group that has been lead by a psychopath for a long time. The Ancient One wasn't even on this plane of existence anymore! They are no match for the man.

And they are definitely not a match for Mrs Rasputina-Strange and Doctor Strange together!

"Kaecilius! Don't throw your life away for this!" Clea screams at the man, sending a small wave of magic towards him, but the spry man doesn't get hit as he opens a portal to another place. "Come find me and we'll talk more about this dimension you won't let us into." he smiles to her.

Corben Kelly has posed:
Since most eyes are on Strange and Co. and most eyes are *off* Corben thanks to his potion, he goes pretty much unnoticed once he's found an alternate route into the building. Blessedly Kib'Kir is frightened enough to remain silent and not give his human... fae... person away.

Off to the side, away from the chaos, he sets his bag down and opens it. After going over the contents and sorting through the few dozen or so small vials inside, he finally picks three of them - one that helps dispell magic to a degree, one that involves changing or transformation and one that has something to do with coming up roses. He can't even remember why he ever mixed that last, but he did so might as well add it to the mix?

Mixing the powder from each vial into the palm of his hand, he then blows it out over the sigils and runes with a soft, prolonged breath. The blue hued dust travels outward, drawn to the magic of the burned in markings where it settles into the grooves left behind.

This time there's, very quietly spoken, incantation (Aramaic) rather than some silly nonsense word he made up as a 'trigger' - a thing he does so his stuff can't just 'go off' for any Joe Blow opening it. It's not a long incantation, but it's not short either. It's just long enough that he starts getting nervous about being caught before it's complete.

Fortunately, time's on his side and once the last word is spoken, all those sigils and runes that may have taken hours to create? Well, they shift and change and morph into little swirly burned lines that look like grandma's doilies from days gone by - here and there throughout, roses bloom.

It should, maybe, hopefully, at least put a kink in the whole 'ritual' plan.

He'll leave the heavy lifting of dealing with the zealots to the heavy lifters. Corben does, however, only retreat to a corner or under a random table - really anywhere that he can keep himself hidden more easily but still watch in case he might have to rush headlong which would be... another terrible idea. Once it's a win on the side of 'not evil zealots doing horrible things', he'll sneak back out and take his raven form to head on home with a little demon sprog calling out, "Corben! I have little wings! Wait for me!"

Frank Noble has posed:
Grenademan should be a target..he isnt even TRYING to dodge and probability alteration only goes so far....but energy is energy and he steps 90 degrees to the right, as his cape makes the energy bounce at an angle and slam into another one of the cultists....Grenademan doesnt want to cause panic in such a tight knit room, so he toesses two simple flashbangs and warns those on his side to cover their eyes....the others on the opposite side hear it as well, as the flash goes off, but as he does so he he exposes three or four for easy targetting.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Would you like to speak to the Ancient One? I can ensure that you have the opportunity."

Is Strange serious? In this case, it is more a threat of death than a serious entreaty. After all, he really has no control if the Ancient One wants to meet...but the first step there is to leave this plane of existence. And....if those that oppose him insist on it, well...he has no choice but to defend.

As the mad zealots leap forward, Stephen shifts from defensive to a more offensive stance. The flick of fingers produce an amber arc of mystical energy...similar to the sort of energy used with the portals he uses...but this takes the form of a whip. And, as the Soulsword of the Demon Queen makes its appearance, the whip of the Sorcerer springs into action. It lashes out, yanking one of Strange's attackers into the arc of the Soulsword, giving Illyana a target. The whip crackles as it finds purchase once more, causing another zealot to trip, only to fall into a portal instantly formed on the floor of the studio. The destination of said portal is unknown, but the other side is most certainly an blackness, devoid of any defining features.

Yet, even during the midst of battle, such as it is, a pleasant tone is given towards Illyana. "I knew you would be along, my dear. Points for a stylish entrance, I must say."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Alchemy is something of an unexpected, interesting art. Under normal circumstances, Corben's brewing and preparations deserve study. It's not everyday someone uses spellwork contained in a jar or a plastic phial. Powders in glass are a lost art. The slow form of hedge magic doesn't get nearly the credit it ought to these days outside Southeast Asia or parts of South America.

Illyana has no time to spare, more is the pity. Something to learn from future meetings, if that's ever in Tarot's cards.

Death and violence stained her upbringing. A decade clinging to survival under barbaric conditions leave their scars on the blonde sorceress. Mages come from many walks of life. Kaecilius' followers have their own stories and hardships, undoubtedly warped by following his crooked path. Belief and pain make terrible bedfellows ethically. Presumably they still have their souls when they fall to flashbangs and enchanted thorns.

Three-fifths of Illyana Rasputina's are crystallized in an amulet to end the universe, the greatest shard wielded to defend those around her. Her strikes, practiced on the battlefield and worn in blood, do not bring showy flourishes or performance arts to bear. In efficiency lies exquisite brutality, a glacier cleaving mountains, lightning striking trees. No movement wastes energy, showing a lifetime of mastery. Her Soulsword bites viciously into magic, severing its connections. Mana evaporates from shattered mystic structures, returning to the aether or sinking back into the leylines, every stab or glancing blow peeling away protections that might enfold a Zealot.

Those without such potent shields probably face the sweeter fate, being run through by radiance and left dumbfounded by pain. Let them lie insensate among the flowers. Smoke and blinding light will only slow her down, her black crown warping in seconds to a faintly gilded visor protecting her face. A bystander might take note how her attacks swivel within circles to orbit Stephen and, a lesser degree, Wong; weaving between them maximizes the ability to intercede if someone fires off a spell or gets through.

Strange is calculated. Grenademan, clearly more restrained. Corben, building on growth. Illyana is cool violence, the executioner's blade. The idea of 'stop' only occurs to her when the last foe falls bonelessly to the ground or begs surrender.

Clea has posed:
Everything happens so quickly. It is really eye opening how dedicated to someone that these zealots were. They were dedicated enough to throw their lives away for Kaecilius and a few others to make an escape.

Apparently their mission is of the utmost importance to them. But to others it is not something that they want to allow.

In the end, the zealots that did not escape are all dead, their ritual ruined, but their master is gone.

Wong gives a grunt after he's done with the man that he had been taking on. There is a look given over Strange and Illyana and a dip of his head, then past him to the other two, "It would be wise to leave so that no trouble comes to you." the man states.

Clea for her part tosses one of the zealots through a wall where they go still. She then looks after the dying traces of Kaecilius' portal and sighs.

"We'll clean this up before the mortal authorities catch wind of it." Wong tells the group.

And with that the Librarian gets to work with Clea in removing the evidence from the scene. All in a nights work!