1808/Very Good Title

Very Good Title
Date of Scene:	23 May 2020
Location:	Gotham
Synopsis:	A pair of satanists do black magic. This is a very good idea that has no hiccups at all.
Cast of Characters:	Daimon Hellstrom, Ella Normandy, Kyani Kohanna

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Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. An old quote, but often a true one. It's particularly true with regards to the supernatural, as a pair of young people with some surprising access to a few books with actual demonological knowledge in them.
    People do that sometimes. They find old books on the occult and they go through them systematically, seeing what works and what doesn't. It's a viable means of learning, provided one has safeguards in place.

The young man and woman here didn't have those. What they -did- have was a place - a vacant lot filled with piled construction debris to keep them from sight - its chainlink fence cut and peeled open in several places over time, a little sickly, incandescent light cast from streetlights a bit down the way. And currently...they have a problem.

The, man, with heavy jeans and a band hoodie over a t-shirt and fingerless gloves is flipping frantically through one of what seems to be about 3 books, the other 2 lying on the ground. The young woman, artfully torn tights, several belts, a long, heavy skirt (with pockets!) and pleather bolero over a striped top is lying in an inelegantly-drawn summoning circle, tears streaming from her eyes...tears that hiss and steam when they strike the ground beneath her...she is having a coughing fit, acrid, black smoke spewing out with each wracking cough...the air smells heavy of ash and soot and ozone...

"V-veni foras," the young man begins, near-panic in his voice, "Adjuva nos!" his voice gaining in volume...it's clumsy, beseeching aid...and aid is coming...perhaps not what he expected, but it's coming...

Amid the smoke and sizzling and the massive static-charge building up on nearby metal objects, it might be easy to overlook the dirt fusing into rough glass in a pattern about 2 dozen feet away...circle, intersecting lines, 'liner notes'...the glass shines brightly, then burns with a dull, orange flame...it only takes a moment, flaring up perhaps 7 feet, and when it subsides...a figure stands there...tall, bronze-skinned, clad in black robes with gold trim, his long, red hair spilling over his shoulders. The robe is open in front, revealing an inverted pentagram seemingly perfectly burned into the new arrival's chest...he holds a golden trident loosely in his right hand, his eyes gleam crimson in the shadows...and he sighs...heavily, "Nuisance."

Ella Normandy has posed:
    The modern Inquisition keeps track on the sales of certain books on demonology, the ones with true knowledge inside them. Vampirella doesn't ask how and doubts she'd understand if she did ask; something about viruses and credit cards, or whatever. However it works, the Six Marys have dispatched their scout--her--to go find the person who owns those books and take them back. They're following along in their unmarked black van, not to serve as her backup but as her watchers, to make sure she doesn't hurt or kill a human. That's their cardinal rule, that monsters must die but any human can still be turned back to the loving arms of Jesus Christ. Vampirella can respect that level of devotion to the faith, even if the lack of pragmatism is inconvenient.

    The target wasn't at home, but that could be overcome: Vampirella had the scent. Yes, the conveyances used to get around the city made tracking it hard, and slow, but not impossible. She followed it for a few hours, which is no doubt how they had time to start the ritual unmolested, and, perched atop a streetlight with her wings spread for balance, Vampirella considers the scene below. She could probably use her mesmerism to get the man to hand over the books, but--

    Whoops, too late. They summoned a demon of some kind. Vampirella thinks a couple of words she wouldn't want her students to learn for at least three more years and gives up the worry about the books. If the Six Marys want them so bad, they can get them. The demon is hers.

    Her fingernails extend, thicken, sharpen into scarlet talons as she leaps silently from the light toward her target.

Kyani Kohanna has posed:
    It's late in the evening, Kyani had a book that needed to be delivered and he wasn't happy that it was so damn late. He was sleep when he got the call, but still he was being paid pretty well to get this package delivered. He makes it to the old bookstore and an old looking woman opens the door barely and signs for it and he hands her the book through the door. THe woman just smirked at him, Kyani shakes his head and walks away and as he walks, he looks around, "I've never been here before. I may as well check it out a bit." he says as he starts making his way about.

    A sound catches his attention, then some light of some kind. Yellow lightning cna be seen as Kyani makes his way to the area he heard the sounds. Once he gets there he slows down and looks around, he sees a woman in some kind of swimsuit chargiing what zombies? He blinks as he watches, or no, hey they are human an not dead, "Hey!" he calls out loudly.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Daimon Hellstrom is getting used to this. Well, 'used to' isn't exactly it. As he has made inroads into the depths of 'devil worshippers' he's finding out just what a muddled mess the whole thing is. The various demons and devils and outer-things have carved it all up, influenced humanity to believe in one over-arching evil presence, but it's more like the most vicious case of 'office politics' you can imagine.
    He's carved out some conceptual space, but he has simply -refused- to let even the -idea- that he will provide omnipresent protection take root. He steps out from the circle he used to gate himself in, glass crunching beneath his boots. "Duae tabulae rasae in quibus nihil scriptum est."* he mutters in annoyance -
*Two blank slates with nothing written upon them.

He's let is get this far because people have to -learn-, but now that it has, it's time to show them that having an 'intercessionist' is an idea usable by -this- side of the coin as well as by the divine. He strides purposefully towards the two young people, the sounds of his footfalls gaining the attention of the young man, and an unsure look -is this the 'savior' he called out to?

The young woman coughs again, the black smoke cloaesceing a bit more, and dropping water like the girl's tears, sizzling upon the ground...the smell of ozone intensifies...they'd called a rare thing, a diabolic creature, but one elementally associated, you don't get a lot of those in Western demonology. Daimon makes note of that, "A devil-storm." he muses, and speaks to the two as he is noticed, gesturing to one side with his trident, "I'd say something about 'what you cannot put down' but it seems you've learned that lesson. A little too late, of course." there's an outward note of contempt in his voice, but inwardly, well...he's here to help after all, but it's not like he won't terrifyingly berate these two when he's finished. He hasn't noticed the other figure on the lightpole...he really should, but the whole area's just rife with a demonic presence, perhaps he can be forgiven for that.

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella's pounce doesn't catch her victim's attention? She knows gliding is basically silent, especially when she doesn't have to unfurl her wings in the first place, but it's surprising this trident-wielding demon's senses are so dull he didn't hear her catching air as she pounced toward him. Pity for him. As she starts her descent, killing claws outstretched toward the demon (no, wait, a sniff says he's partially human, a cambion or something, which might explain his unacceptably dull senses), she passes in front of the streetlight and casts her thirty-foot shadow over the trio, engulfing them. Her lips are peeled back from her teeth in a merciless snarl. She won't waste the opportunity to launch a sneak attack.

Kyani Kohanna has posed:
    Kyani sees that swimsuit wearing woman floating towards the two people who are on the ground. There is no more time, yellow lightning streaks past Vampirella, even Daimon would see the lightning as Kayni moves and takes the people getting them away from whatever was going on, he lays both people down behind a car and he moves out to show himself, "What is going on, why are you attacking these people he says to both the younger guy and to the now floating woman.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
As the people are swept away in a bolt of bright lightning, for a moment Daimon thinks this possession was much further along than it should have been...but no...no magic here, physics...warped almost beyond acceptability, but not supernatural. As is often the case with him, his surprise turns quickly to annoyance, then to anger, "IDIOT!" he snaps, almost reflexively, but at least this has done one good thing for him...on the alert, he just catches a glimpse of leathery wings and a nearly-nude female form almost upon him. Not the first time it's happened, won't be the last he thinks, chiding himself for his inattention.
    The tip of the golden trident makes a small movement in he air, the tip leaving an afterimage as it moves, a golden streak...a simple warding glyph, momentary, not-too-powerful, more about the physical assault than protection against anything mystical...it spreads out like a ripple in a pond, etching demonic letters into the very air itself as it goes - it will fade away from the center out in only a few moments.

The half-demon's senses play out now, seeking the young woman...and also to ascertain what -this- new thing is. Bewitching of form, yes, most certainly, but that doesn't get more than a moment's attention (though it does, make no mistake). Succubus? Fury? Vampire? Mara? He'll have an idea very shortly.

That aside, the interruption and attempted assault have got his mood up...warding glyph aside, the air around him streams for a moment with flames of a sickly violet color that curl and billow and fade into a lambent orange after a few moments.

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella's flight toward her prey is arrested, first by blowback from the blur of speed, then by the warding glyph that her claws skitter across as if a wall had appeared between her and her target. She growls in frustration as she lands, and she feels her fingers lengthening, bones stretching and popping, a new joint forming in each digit to accomodate the monstrous killing hooks at the tip of each. She's slightly disconcerted to notice that's as far as her transformation goes, but she casts that thought aside as a useless distraction. The Marys can deal with the speedster if they care to. She can't hear a van's panel door sliding open, so she must assume they don't and this is another of their endless tests to see if they can finally put her down--

    No. Focus!

    Vampirella's eyes narrow as she circles warily around the half-demon, palms at her hips and facing her enemy, knees bent to prepare for another pounce. "Spells?" she asks in her thick accent. "Sold your soul for power, and serving Hell to pay for it?" she guesses.

Kyani Kohanna has posed:
    Kyani blinks as he hears about spells, "Uhh...what the..." he stammers as he looks between the other two. "Who are you calling an idiot?" he asks as he looks to Daimon, his eyes flicker slightly. He didn't know how he was going to handle this, but he does look at the two people who are still unconcious.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
The woman, while 'out of it', is still thrashing about and that smoke...well, more of a cloud really, and again, a lot of metal objects all around were buzzing with static buildup...and then...the speedster...the lightning...the cosmic lightning, harbinger of a great force...the presence within her stirs more fully to wakefulness and wonders what havoc it could wreak if it could tap into -that-?

Her eyes flash open as the demonic presence within decides to play an old gambit, "Help me!" it pleads with her lips, looking towards the would-be hero...

Meanwhile, at his attacker's words, Daimon scoffs, his tone almost like someone lecturing a slow student, "You don't know me, do you?" Her taunt gave him information...hellborn things know of him, they gossip, -oh- how they gossip! When someone takes the throne of a Splinter Realm the word goes out...either she's been out of the loop, or there's more here. His eyes narrow, and he presses his sight beyond the material, to get a glimpse of the soul beneath...human? Demonic? Something other? He'll find out. As he does so he dips his hand, the trident's tip dragging a line in the dirt between the two, a clear warning and a challenge all at once.
    "Serving? No." he says evenly, his gaze taking her in - again, yes, as a man might, he's no priest - well, he -almost- was, but that's in the past, but also assessing her. Her movements, any aura of power, a movement to cast, anything.
    "I'm really more of a fan of John Milton in that respect. As for my soul - Well, I'm afraid it's never been for sale. To be quite honest, I'm not sure it's even -possible- to barter it or it could be...well, it can be -cleaved-, yes, but it'll always seek to unite itself again." He sounds like he's almost enjoying the little lecture. He does add, though, "And you, pleasant as it is to have a half-naked woman throw herself at me, INTERRUPTED ME." His taunting patience, is it just a veneer of civility? Hard to tell.

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella doesn't bother paying attention to Daimon's attempts to demean her with his gaze and speech. She's busy thinking about the aura of flames. Has it been a result of his warding glyph, some combination of shield and counterattack spell, or had they been separate effects? If the latter, she hadn't seem him make any supernaturally significant gestures that would create fire, or noticed him invoking a talisman of some kind. If not part of the spell, then the hellfire is an innate ability he has, which makes it difficult to avoid if she gets in close; and close is how she has to work.

    So she'll be nursing some burns tonight, it seems. Vampirella mentally shrugs at the thought. She's been burned before. She stops her wary circling of the preydemon and starts advancing slowly, closing the distance and watching to see if he'll retreat. She's unaware, at least for the moment, of whatever magical catastrophe is brewing behind her.

Kyani Kohanna has posed:
    Kyani doesn't know much about the Speed Force, so he doesn't know it's what causing whatever is possesing the woman to stir. He turns around and looks to her seeing the smoke come from her mouth, "Are you ok, I will get the cops so that they can help you, I also have to take on these other two and make sure they are taken into custody." he states to the woman. The lightning isn't around him anymore, but as he looks to the woman, he walks over to her, "Can you stand?" he asks trying to do what he can to help her.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
The man that had been with the young woman stirs, and murmurs, "Nnnnnoo...s'not...she's not..." He reaches out, oddly, in th direction he was rescued from...the last thing he saw, after all, was the dark savior he'd called to...Hellstorm, Son of Satan.

But's it's a different kind of 'hell storm' that Kyani should be worried about. The girl's eyes flash open, tiny arcs of electricity sparking within them, "Oh, I'm getting there." she says in a voice with that seductive purr some demons like to use, regardless of form, But maybe you can do me a favour? ... GIVE ME YOUR LIGHTNING." that's...not a young woman's voice. The aim hums and grows thick with moisture, and a scent not unlike that which precedes rain...the speedster can feel the ahirs on his body start to stand on end...

Meanwhile, Daimon Hellstrom is not in the habit of retreating, nor is he reknowed for his patience. He lets the trident stay loosely in his grip and his left hand raises up - interestingly the sigil he draws in the air is a -holy- one, from the Key of Solomon, used in the abjuration of demonic entities, "Et abierunt!" he intones...if associated with the Vatican, there's -no- chance Vampirella -doesn't- recognize those words...and a demon -shouldn't- be able to invoke them, either. Although he does add, harshly, "You imbecile...you interrupted me! Those Sunday Satanists had -no idea- what was in that book! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" he demands, hellfire curling about him in anger...it's a bizarre dichotomy, to say the least. He also, even in his rage, watches to see if the abjuration has any effect.

Ella Normandy has posed:
    Vampirella doesn't care a lick about Christian magic--her people are older than the god of loaves and fishes, and the powers that abjure her kind are older still--but the Latin is interesting. She hasn't heard a demon speak the language claimed for itself by the papacy in her life, and that stops her in her tracks... though it doesn't make her claws withdraw. She ignores the posturing and, still prepared to spring at him if she must, asks acidly, "If you're so benevolent, why are you wasting your time trying to shout me into submission instead of explaining yourself?"

Kyani Kohanna has posed:
    Kyani feels something draining from him, he didn't know why. "What are you?" he asks as he steps back away from the woman. Kyani blinks as the woman continues speaking with lightning coming out of her eyes, "You're not the woman are you." he says as he backs away. "Hey what the hell were you doing before we got here?" he calls back to Daimon, maybe rushing in and not knowig what the hell was going on was a bad mistake. Not knowing, Kyani starts drawing the Speed FORce back away from the woman. He moves back as well, he didn't know he could feel that presence of the Speed Force within him, but he shakes his head as he puts some distance from himself and her.

Daimon Hellstrom has posed:
Daimon's eyes burn fiercely, but his tone is a bit more restrained, but not too much, "Who said -anything- about benevolence?" he says snidely. When confronted, this is what they do...'his kind', they grovel, or they lash out, and he -never- grovels. Inwardly he notices that - ever since he truly accepted what he is, since he deposed his father, he has changed, and some of those changes seem almost instinctive. He doesn't like that. He can -accept- it, but he doesn't like it.
    "It's tidier than burning you down where you stand." he says flatly in response to her question, "You're an interesting thing...you have a soul...of a sort." he says matter-of-factly, he is keenly attuned to such things, after all, "Whatever you are, exactly, you're not one of the demons occupying neo-monotheistic conceptual space. Nor are you a remnant animistic spirit using modern cultural shorthand to carve out a niche. -Nor- are you a vampire...exactly." he sounds intrigued. Still angry, but intrigued.
He starts to walk around the line he'd drawn, not crossing it...it wasn't just a physical gesture, and there's a wiff of sorcery dispersing as he does so. His eyes move past her, to where the storm demon is beginning to act. he seems unconcerned with attack. It's a bit of a ruse, but he's very, very good at those. His body language betrays absolutely -no- concern...Prince of Lies and all.

"You interrupted what I was hoping would be an exorcism and banishment...or maybe a binding. I hadn't decided yet. And you were drawn here...so you have some stake in this, don't you?" he asks.

Over by Kyani...

The demonic presence reaches out, skyward, and it calls...a bolt of lightning, just one, a small one, lances down and blasts the ground near him...it wants what he has, and this is straining the body...the girl's hair standingly wildly on end...