18587/HUNGER: Blackest Nights - Tamaran: It's Technically Vegan
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| HUNGER: Blackest Nights - Tamaran: It's Technically Vegan | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 28 July 2024 |
| Location: | Tamaran |
| Synopsis: | The heroes reach Tamaran just ahead of Galactus, who comes to claim it in the place oF Okaara after renewing Terrax's service. As the planet errupts in chaos, the Tamaraneans fight of the Citadelians to reclaim their starports and attempt evacuation, and the heroes do what they can to save as many souls as possible. Diana manages to briefly pinkie-lasso the big guy, and reveals a weak point: the obscure device known as the Ultimate Nullifier. |
| Cast of Characters: | Norrin Radd, Monet St. Croix, Peter Quill, Sersi, Noa, Mary Bromfield, Carol Danvers, Hal Jordan, Diana Prince, Richard Rider, Mantis |
| Tinyplot: | Hunger |
- Norrin Radd has posed:
"You thought you would rule this world for yourself. Now, you will tell them of MY coming."
Tamaran is a planet of many aspects.
A paradise-like world with a huge tropical zone and lush natural beauty, inhabited by free-spirited and passionate people who hold love as a high virtue, it has long been a place of art and culture, one of the great civilizations not just of the system, but of the galaxy. With natural abilities that allow some of their kind of travel naturally in space, it has also been a long-standing member of larger galactic society. Hal will mark the names of Tamaranean Green Lanterns in the database, serving thousands of years before he met Abin Sur. Of course, some of them have even made it to Earth.
It has also been a center of many conflicts, as it is today.
Decades earlier, the Citadel conquered the planet through a combination of intrigue and force, making slaves of the population. In turn, they have faced multiple rebellions and efforts at organized resistance, with the most successful still underway. Much of the southern continent is now back under local control, although the tide had turned back the other way as the Citadel fell under a new leader - Terrax, then Warlord Tyros of Okaara. He returns today, descending upon the royal palace to take up a new throne, but not to win the war:
"People of Tamaran, make what peace you can. Make love, as is your custom. Grieve. Prepare. In the days to come, your world shall end. My master comes." Through the majesty of the Power Cosmic, the words are heard everywhere on the planet at once, in every mind and heart.
And it brings total chaos.
In the outset, several Citadel transports immediately flee the planet. They have data from off-world, have heard of strange events on Okaara, of the gravitic disturbance that marked the Worldship's arrival. Some see their former Warlord turned against them. Most simply think to self-preservation: it is not their world, after all. The sudden departures reduce their military strength, and the Tamaraneans seize the moment, launching further atttacks.
By the time the Milano enters the atmosphere, en-route to the major spaceport of the northern capital of Tamarus, they can see the fires of war everywhere below. The Citadel still holds that important point, defending it as they load their transports with the looted riches of the world, taking whatever isn't nailed down and stuffing it on their ships. Their cargo, grimly, includes a living element as well.
- Monet St. Croix has posed:
In the Milano, Monet St. Croix is tense. She can /feel/ the power radiating from Terrax despite the distance they are from him. The ships evacuating the planet, pinpricks even if she were on the Citadel itself, do not matter. This si a world that is going to die unless they can save it. And she has no idea what they can remotely do to Terrax should it come to a fight. Even when he and his 'other' were so weakened they made her feel like they could shatter the planet itself. When she had gazed upon him and whatever -else- that it was coming she had been overwhelmed in the likes of which a telepath could only pray to maintain their own sanity. Cosmic beings, eldritch horrors.. On a scale of which even the ancient stars themselves given sentience would shudder.
She would glance out the window, bracing herself. Her stomach churning with fear. But she did not display it on her face. In her body language. Fear was the mind killer. And she would play her part. This was something where lives were on the line the likes of which were beyond her experience. MIllions. Billions.
If they did not hold the line here then the planet and everyone on it that could not get off would die. A siple enough thing to focus on. To ground and crsah all other fears.
A way enough to tune everything else out. If she were to die today, it would be for a worthy cause. Even as on the Milano she feels like they're on an ancient transport craft, about to be parachuted in to a war zone and hope they don't die. She goes to speak to as many of the spread out group as she cna telepathically <<I will try and maintain a telepathic link as best I can. However given all the ambient power I cannot guarantee it will last for long>>
- Peter Quill has posed:
It seems rumors of Peter Quill's imminent demise were greatly exaggerated.
We'll leave the details to a scene he hasn't had a chance to play with Mantis, but suffice it to say that the injury caused a bit of his own unique heritage to come to the surface. The wound dealt by Morg's axe has healed. Maybe not completely. He'll definitely have a scar, because chicks dig those. But with a few bandages under his clothes to keep the tender bits padded, Star-Lord is up and functioning.
At the controls of the Milano, he monitors things as they approach the planet. "This is a big mess. Badguys running away, goodguys stuck on the ground. If we wanna get these people up, we gotta secure that place, yeah? Maybe steal those ships." He's tapping on the scanners, bringing up images of several of the largest Citadelian transports.
"Don't think there's time for a bluff like last time, either." So he reaches for a handle and pulls it. The engines surge. They're going in hot.
He thumbs up over his shoulder. "You wanna jump out and fly around, door's back that way. I'll join you in a sec." For now? He's going to have some fun with the laser guns, picking a target on the tarmac, and strafing it.
- Sersi has posed:
Sersi had been feeling pensive and a bit short-tempered all day. She'd been unable to pin down why: Tamaran was gorgeous, a pure feast for the senses, where tastes subtle and gross could be satiated beyond imagining. What reason was there to feel so upset while visiting such splendor?
It just went to show how long it had been since her cosmic awareness had been triggered, that she could misunderstand the nature of the knowledge that Galactus was present; which is something to feel changrin about at a later date. Right now, she has other priorities, like saving the planet.
But how? She can't transport the people off of Tamaran. The Domo is a nice ship, but it can hold thirty or forty people at most, and that many only if she's constantly using her powers to create oxygen. She can't talk Galactus out of eating.
That seems to leave one option: fight.
That is how Sersi, the Eternal, finds herself strapping her Mother box to her arm and grimly ordering it to keep a breathable atmosphere around her while she pilots her ship up into space, intending to face Galactus however she must. Her ship broadcasts on all known frequencies (and more than a few unknowns), "I am Sersi of the Eternals, piloting the Domo. I stand with anyone who intends to face Galactus. Standing by for orders."
- Noa has posed:
Noa hears of trouble, and decides to be nice. One can't visit strange and interesting marketplaces on Earth all the time, seeing things like Kiwi fruit, VCRs, corn dogs, and shuriken. She brings up some emergency supplies, and jumps into the area as soon as she can, getting behind the Milano.
Eyes open, she fires up her computer's AI assistant, and has Xara start sizing up the situation around them. "There are ships leaving the area. But not an entire planet's worth, it seems."
So she trise to send a message to Milano. "Far Horizon here. I can't do much, but I can move very fast. If there's a plan for getting people out of here, I can help as much and as long as possible." Though with some people, you never know what is actually planned.
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary, aka Thunderbolt, had come up with an idea on transporting between Earth and the Milano, at least for her and her friends. That is to say, sneaking a small pebble of the Rock of Eternity onto the ship, which could function as an anchor for a gateway. She's not a wizard, but she does have some game, after all.
Currently, she stands next to Monet, looking out at the window at the scene. Normally she'd be excited to see an alien planet. Her friend Kori is from here, after all! But now... now she looks pretty determined, and gives Monet a warm smile, "Just do what you can. It's all any of us can do."
When Peter speaks, Mary nods, "Roger that, I'll dive out and bring the Lightning." Because that's what Thunderbolt does, "Just let me know if there's something I should particularly focus on, because I don't like the thought of this planet getting looted." Let alone eaten, but first things first.
And on that note, Thunderbolt leaps out of the back door, soaring around effortlessly and flying alongside the Milano.
- Carol Danvers has posed:
Cosmic Awareness is a difficult thing to describe. Carol experienced it somewhere between a sense and an emotion, some fundamental tension in the strings of all that is that plucked at just the right frequency to resonate with the power that flowed through her. Her awareness showed her innate alignment with the universe, the flow of cosmic power through it and the gatherings of it in force that lead to such titanic events as today.
Carol really, really hated it when she got that Cosmic Awareness thing. Carol liked to be in control of her own fate, follow her own command, as much as she could. She always had trouble with any authority but her own, not because she didn't respect it, but because her own trust in herself ran so deep that she knew she should follow her gut. And that's where the cosmic awareness sits for Carol, right in her gut.
The burritos may have contributed.
She in her ship, The Hala Star, a Kree craft designed for scouting and investigation, with a potent array of weapons of its own. Weapons she leaves behind as she emerges at the edge of the Tamaranean system. She leaves it in defensive mode, subject to her remote command through the onboard AI. She's surrounded by a corona of yellow-gold energy, radiating from her eyes and wrapping around her, making her seem as a comet to any observer who couldn't see the core of the woman at the center of that brightness.
She initiates Kree-Avengers tech in her gear to begin rapid-scanning known frequencies, looking for friendly comms and trying to get a sense of what's going on. Terrax will no doubt immediately draw her attention, such a potent congregation of raw cosmic power. Terrax is like a black hole of it, as are all users of the Power Cosmic. Carol grits her teeth. This one wasn't going to be easy. She tunes into the planetary communications, her universal translator filtering and seeking out signs of distress. She spots the Milano, directing an inquisitive hail to the frequencies of the ship. "Carol Danvers, captain of the Hala Star, marvelous and at your service, folks. Looks like this place has a nasty parasite."
- Hal Jordan has posed:
After the events on Okaara, after watching the warlord Terrax turn his back on his adopted planet and rejoin his former master, after the discovery of the Orange Lantern and the true reason the Vega system is off-limit to Green Lanterns, Hal Jordan -- Green Lantern of Sector 2814 -- has chosen to remain with those onboard the Milano in defiance of the Guardians.
The Universe variety, not the Galaxy. Whether they are particularly pleased to have him around is an entirely different matter.
As such Hal has been rather steadfast in avoid communication with his little blue overlords, ignoring the messages he has received oth from the Guardians directly and from their primary representative amonst the Corps, the Green Lantern Salaak.
Such restraint is probably for the best. Hal isn't thrilled with the lies -- or at least the lack of transperency -- that kept the Guardians from acknowledging the truth of the Vega system, the truth about the Orange Lantern. Even the truth about the Emotional Energy spectrum that appears to be much more broad then the Guardians of the Universe have ever acknowledged to their loyal foot soldiers.
And now they come to Tamaran. The main question of course is whether or not they have come too late.
They got a taste of the power available to Terrax's master on Okaara, and whether the strange master of the Orange Lantern was able to save that world is still something of a mystery. But they are far less likely to find new allies this time around. Not with the world's overlords, the Citidal, fleeing. Not with the world already gripeed with chaos.
But they can't exactly abandon it to it's fate either.
Can this power truly consume an entire world? Just one of it's Heralds was able to kill several Green Lanterns, so it bears consideration. Worry perhaps.
So at the invitation to leave the Milano, to take to the skies of Tamaran, Hal just dips his head slightly. "Lets not entirely give in to the belief that they really are capable of what they're saying. But seizing those transports, finding *someone* in charge enough to order an evacuation might be desirable," he agrees, already heaving towards that ramp, wrapped in an emerald glow as he takes to the skies.
- Diana Prince has posed:
Wonder Woman had taken some licks in the last fight, versus Morg and then... Terrax getting a cheap shot in from behind. She'd been injured in the fight, but her ability to rapidly heal gave her a refreshed status at the time of arrival to this new world. Dressed in her golden eagle armor, Wonder Woman watched Peter moving to man his laser cannons, as she could hear comm chatter coming over the open networks. Reacting to this, and having spent enough time on the Milano by now, to know how to operate the comms, she triggered an open line.
"To everyone listening. The plan is still formulating. Do everything in your power to protect yourself, but, should you have the capacity to help innocents that you see in peril... please do so. Bring them aboard your ships, find them safe routes to evacuate. The problem here is vast, and the foes we are up against have proven to be quite capable. Stay safe, but please do assist where, and how you can. More details will come as we gleam new options, and directions."
With a contemplative expression, Diana leaned back from the comm, and reached for her Eagle helmet. Glinting golden, she placed it over her head, and turned to march toward the back of the Milano. The Invisible Jet was still on Earth, as its presence there was a necessary element for the Amazonians to keep their own world safe, but here on her own, Diana needed to get out there, and find where to best provide support.
From the exterior of the Milano, golden Eagle wings spread out, as Wonder Woman takes to the sky, flying with agility, speed and a clear sense of urgency.
- Richard Rider has posed:
Nova has been a passenger on the Milano before, so he's found a comfortable spot to hang out in as they race to Tamaran. The worldmind has given him what it has on Galactus, and it's not good. He's running through it all in his head, and coming up with one simple answer - They need more power. A lot more.
Terrax is bad enough, but what's coming after him is just on a separate scale altogether. To be honest, he doesn't think there's anything that can actually stop Galactus, and he's been mentally digging through the worldmind's information for most of the trip. At this point, he's trying to figure out a way to evacuate an entire planet and failing fairly miserably. Being completely outclassed is not something he's used to, and he's not quite sure how to handle it.
As they enter Tamaran's atmosphere, he puts on his helmet and follows Diana out of the Milano, looking over the damage below. <<What a lovely mess. Conquerors and thieves trying to steal all they can, rebellions against them and completely understandable panic over what's coming all rolled up into a ball. So folks, ideas? Are we after Terrax to see if there's a way to stop his master? There's no way I can think of to evacuate the entire planet, so we better come up with something pretty quickly. We could take the ships from the Citadel and stuff them full of Tamaraneans, but it would still only be a tiny fraction of the world's population.>>
- Mantis has posed:
Mantis returns to the Milano cockpit after assisting Hal and anyone else looking to disembark and lowers herself into the co-pilot's chair. After buckling herself in, Mantis slides her chair forward, locks it in place, and starts fiddling with the controls on her side of the panel. She flips several switches, taps several buttons, and then, with an uneasy smile, presses the final button in her recipe. A song comes on over the Milano's speakers.
...It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine
Mantis turns to watch Peter, smiles uneasily at him. "Is this the right one?" she wonders, unsure of her choice of R.E.M. for this little mission and, to be fair, unsure of who R.E.M. even are. Her attention shifts to Peter's injury, just for a moment.
- Norrin Radd has posed:
While not originally a warship, thanks to lots of love, upgrades from Rocket, and whatever black market goodies units can buy, the Milano punches _way_ above its weight. Its appearance over Tamarus, no diplomacy offered, guns immediately blazing, benefits greatly from the chaos, achieving surprise that might not otherwise be possible, and then delivering considerable shock and awe in its opening barrage.
As the heroes have learned by now, the Citadelians are brutish and instinctively militant but not always the brightest bulbs, and in this chaotic situation, an additional variable sends their heads spinning. The main cannons hit and destroy several smaller gunships and atmospheric craft in the process of takeoff - too small or otherwise useless for evacuation but dangerous - while several of the other Guardians man turrets, firing at ground emplacements.
Lots of explosions!
After the initial surprise attack, the enemy does begin returning fire. And there are a lot of them, despite however many have already fled. They have more static guns, fighter ships, and individual soldiers running all over. Most carry normal high-tech weaponry, although a good number have Psion 'slave-maker' blasters, which are known to have power nullfiying effect. All of these make ample targets of opportunity for the heroes who depart the ship, and they are happy to press the issue, firing at anyone who gets close.
On the Milano, they do have someone who can speak to the logic of local logistics that Hal references: Lord Karras, himself part of the ruling house of one of those southern city-states that have since broken free. "I am in communication with my compatriots, various resistance leaders. I am not sure what proper chain of command remains in the capital. Perhaps Princess Kommand'r, though she... was responsible for the treachery that brought us to this point."
Those in other craft, who direct signals toward the planet, or scan it, will pick up all manner of communications on dozens if not hundreds of frequencies. Chaos, for sure. There are calls for help, to any ship available, but to pick among them? A daunting question.
At some distance from the airfield, on a balcony overlooking the city, Terrax emerges to observe, axe in hand. Ring and Worldmind scans, Cosmic Awareness and Eternal senses, and other such things will all ping his ration of the Power Cosmic. Just a single signal, at least on the planet. Perhaps Morg is recovering. Or maybe each world is assigned but a single Herald, and the Executioner has new business elsewhere.
As space-senses turned OUTWARD, they too will sense an approaching power, less distinct yet far more vast. A power, that despite familiarity with many of the great mysteries and forces of the universe, is still frightening in its magnitude.
- Monet St. Croix has posed:
Even Monet can sense it's omnipresent oppression, from however far off in the distance it is - well beyond the human capacity for grasping if they are not the type with a telescope or that sees things on a cosmic scale. Her senses are minor, her telepathy often littleb etter than stretching for kilometers on a good day when she has complete focus. Here, in the midst of a planetary battlefield and evacuation, with one being that she has seen can sunder stars and that has grown in power since..
Here, even she can sense it. Something that dwarfs even the other persona of Jean, when the Phoenix had taken over and there was nothing left for the moment of the woman beneath but a shell. This dwarfs even that, and she can sense it from such a far distance. It adds to the tremors that she keeps out of her body language and her mental voice.
Then, there is Wonder Woman deploying, and once they are in atmosphere Monet is flying along with her, adjusting her course to have her flanking the Amazon Princess, matching her in speed and separated from her by about two hundred meters or so. Enough to act as backup and react to things targeting Diana, but also not close enough if they're shot at by missiles or flak cannons she won't be in the same blast range. She uses her slightly enhanced senses to play 'spotter' for active weapons, passing along locations and troopers that are not fleeing to those making attack runs.
- Peter Quill has posed:
"Oh hi there. I'm the legendary Star-Lord, on the Milano." Since they have... 3 other ships in system, by his basic math count, broadcasting aid and cooperation of various kinds, Quill does the ship-captain thing and aswers. "Did you say 'stand against'? I'm gonna have to get back to you on that one. Not sure we have a plan for fighting Lord Purple Helmet."
To his cool-guy credit, Peter manages this conversation while deftly manning the controls, spinning the Milano in a barrel roll as they weave through the hail of fire from below.
Meanwhile, Mantis is handling important business. The tunes. "Oh we definitely need some music for this..."
He stares blankly when it comes on. "We'll have a conversation later about how that's wildly inappropriate. OK. Rocket, you wanna take over? I'm gonna get out and see if I can't help the Very Tall Lady."
Diana has proved a big hit with Peter!
- Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol Danvers doesn't have much capacities for refugees on the Hala Star - it's more of a personal ship than a massive starship. She's fairly quickly able to gather the essence of the situation. Bad guy on the planet, albeit not actively in the act of unleashing cosmic doom. Fleeing assholes sparring with innocent oppressed people and anyone else w ho gets in the way of their piss running down their legs as they scurry away.
And then, in that distance, like the ripples of water on the surface of a glass at the approach of a Tyarannasaurus Rex, Captain Marvel shudders as the first shockwaves of approaching entropy washes over her, a raw manifestation of the endless hunger lumbering its endless grinding circles around the cosmos.
"Holy shit," she mutters. "Get these people out of here, " she replies to Star-Lord's broadcasts. "Pretty sure the monster on the surface knows something worth knowing. Maybe he'll tell me without me having to beat it out of him," she says, turning and flying directly towards Terrax.
- Sersi has posed:
"Mother Box, monitor incoming transmissions and keep me linked," Sersi commands tightly as her fingers fly over the Domo's control, setting its autopilot to get itself out of the solar system and wait for her signal. The Domo isn't just her ship, after all: she needs it to return to the other Eternals if she doesn't survive this attack. Once its course is laid in, she unbuckles the straps holding her in the pilot's seat and takes three long steps to the hull. Yellow lines of light spill out from her fingertips as she tents them gently against the Domo's seamless hull: molecules change and evaporate, opening a smooth yet pleasantly asymmetrical portal. Blue sky and white clouds whip past outside, the air screaming with the increasing G-force of the ship's acceleration toward escape velocity. Sersi steps out of the portal, fingertips trailing lovingly along the edge of the hole she just made, cosmic power flashing again, convincing the ship to repair its hull even as she's falling from a mile up in the sky.
Briefly falling, anyway. Yellow threads of power stretch out from her fingers, manipulating gravitons around her, slowing her to a mid-air levitation about half a mile above ground. She takes a moment to get her bearings--the height is wonderful for finding places--and suggests, "Whatever you invaders are doing, I'm going to get control of ground to space defenses as soon as I can in case it will help against what's coming. I'd appreciate any assistance!"
With that final word, she spins the gravitons ever so slightly and suddenly she seems to be soaring toward the anti-spacecraft batteries at the capital. She's actually falling at an angle rather than flying, but it's easy enough for her to fix that.
- Hal Jordan has posed:
In a technical sense Green Lanterns are mostly supposed to avoid getting involved in local politics. How planets rule themselves are more or less up to themselves. From that perspective, Citidal rule over Tamaran -- no matter how it was achieved -- is as legitimate as any other. At least in the eyes of the Guardians.
But Hal is already pretty much breaking just about every signle one of their rules in just being here and while he is not interested in seeing them serve as mass casualties to the power that Terrax and Morg serve, the fact is that their transports offer the best opportunity to evacuate the largest number of people should that be necessary.
That is a fact that he simply can't ignore.
So while the Milano concentrates on taking out the defenses -- whether ground based or fighters launched to intercept them -- Green Lantern focuses more on the transports themselves.
Weaving in amongst the scattered fire that rises up from the surface of the planet, Hal streaks down towards the surface, the emerald glow that surrounds him more then a match for the smaller fire and his sheer speed and agility enough to avoid the larger energy volleys directed his way.
He does not leave all the counterattack to the Milano and it's crew however, emerald beams of energy lancing out of his rin, cutting down to the surface to slice through turrets and destroy missile launchers as he streaks towards the starport -- a brilliant line of green trailing behind him.
As he nears, that green ring around his finger flares to life once more, glinting brightly under the tropical sun above and on the landing gears of a half dozen of those transports something akin to restraining boots appear, green and glowing as they lock down the craft.
With the crafts arrayed on another of the landing pads, Hal takes the even simplier expedient of simply conjuring up a big, green dome, dropping it right over the entire pad, encasing it in energy and insuring the transports are going nowhere fast.
"I have a dozen transports secured once the local starport is pacified," the Green Lantern reports in. It's a start. But just a start. Not nearly enough. Even offloaded of all the heavy equipment the Citidal is likely trying to flee with, the transports will hold thousands, tens of thousands perhaps. But nowhere near enough.
And Hal Jordan turns a glowering eye upward towards Terrax and his perch above, watching the chaos inflicting the planet as his master grows ever closer.
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
* * * * * *
A few days prior...
"You know what you are asking? This is the Rock of Eternity, not Grand Central Station!"
"Yeah, I know that, but if we don't have a way to get a lot of people OUT, then a whole bunch of people are gonna die when we could have saved them!"
"You are asking me to oppose a fundamental force of the cosmos itself."
"I'm asking you to do the right thing. That's why you gave us the Lightning in the first place."
* * * * * * *
Now.
Thunderbolt soars down towards one of the transports that's loaded to the gills with enslaved Tamaraneans, nimbly evading the ships guns to land on the hull. She then reaches down and tears a hole into the cargo hold, and looks around at all the frightened Tamaraneans. She pauses, then says, "Hey, I know you can't understand me, but I'm going to get you out of here." With that, she pauses, then shouts, repeatedly, "SHAZAM! SHAZAM! SHAZAM!"
And then lightning rips into the ship, frying electronics and scorching the hull... but the captives? They get whisked away by magic... soaring through the magical currents to the Rock, and then getting relayed by the Wizard to the oasis world that Diana established after the Starport refugees needed a new place. New Themyscira? New Tamaran?
Names can come later, right now they need to get out. But the Lightning can't send /everyone/...
- Mantis has posed:
Mantis smiles, both antennae perked, as Peter agrees with her decision to add music to this little outing, but her enthusiasm fades as Peter pops her balloon, declaring her choice as inappropriate. She jabs her thumb into a button that stops the music abruptly. If Peter was Drax, now is when she'd yell at him. But, Peter is not Drax and, as such, no yelling comes. Instead, Mantis fumbles with more buttons, trying to find the perfect, most appropriate song in the Milano's confusing collection of Earth music. "How about this?" she announces as her finger presses the play button.
We're leaving together, but still, it's farewell
And maybe, we'll come back to Earth, who can tell?
I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving ground (Leaving ground)
Will things ever be the same again?
It's the final countdown
Mantis slowly swivels her chair to face Peter, watching his reaction carefully. Instead, she finds Rocket climbing into the pilot's chair and Peter's nowhere to be seen. Her disappointment is obvious thanks to her slacked antennae, but Mantis doesn't have time to press the issue. The order to send out New Themyscira's coordinates comes in and Mantis gets right on it! She pulls up the galactic atlas and flips through a few holographic pages before the right one materializes. "Yes, we have them!" Mantis responds. Before she has a chance to broadcast them on the secure channels, Mantis spots something on the screen that sours her mood entirely. "No I do not want to restart and apply updates!" she shouts angrily before smacking her hand against the touch screen a couple of times. Eventually, though, she gets it right.
"This is the Milano. We have a world available for your refugees. Standby to receive galactic goordinates!" Mantis transmits. Her eyes and smile both widen as she holds down the button to broadcast directions to New Themyscira!
Mantis' smile fades as Rocket starts laughing. "Goordinates? What the fark are 'goordinates'?" he cackles.
- Richard Rider has posed:
After nodding to Diana, Nova tears through the sky somewhat above mach one and carefully disables any ship still on the ground that enslaved Tamaraneans have been loaded into. The Citidel can have all the treasure they want, but they're not dragging the people off as well. Plus the ships will only need minor repairs to become escape transports for the population. He slows to circle the main spaceport, working on both disabling any weapon emplacements and keeping the Citidel forces away from any of the ships still on the ground that he hasn't had to lightly break.
"If we can gather people up, I can open a gate to our refugee planet. It's going to be a bitch getting to everyone on the planet though."
A blast from one of the AA guns actually connects with him as he circles, but the wielder of the Nova Force barely notices while he's working it through in his head. Still, he tosses a concussion bolt into it, sending the Citidel crew manning it flying in several directions.
"I can probably send a good sized transport through, so if we can get them loaded up, I can get them out faster than having them walk through. Load them in trucks, busses, transports, anything we can stuff as many people as possible into. And can someone hack into whatever communications network this world uses and tell everyone our plans? Have them gather all over the planet so we don't have to go searching for people to save."
Seeing rebels loading a smaller transport full of people, Nova pauses and connects the starport to New Themyscira and waves the transport through. One load out. Tons to go.
- Norrin Radd has posed:
Monet and Diana have an abundance of targets to skrimish with, both soldiers and static defenses. Some of the latter are a bit more formiddable, although several of those quickly divert to change targets as Sersi comes barreling down out of space to target them as well. The lasso'd fighter ends up being particularly useful, torn apart bit by bit, and then the debris itself thrown off in large pieces, one of which clips another fighter in the formation. BOOM!
Carol does the Carol thing and dives right for Terrax, an initial bout that plays out in seconds, drawn into the extreme. At some distance, he turns his head ever-so slightly to observe her approach, and then lifts the hand not holding his axe. The facade of the palace breaks apart, multi-ton blocks of ancient stone flung into her path. She smashes through them, atomizing the impact points and shattering the rest apart. Then, the axe lifted, surging with energy-
-no.
He waits, until the last moment, and swings.
Everyone else mostly hears the sonic boom of the approach, and some fraction of a second later, another shockwave, emmanating outward from the balcony. When the debris clears, Terrax remains standing, although there is an obvious... not bruise, but crack upon his face, where his gray skin is broken almost like the stone he commands. Carol is nearby, having been batted into a nearby wall with a weapon as dense as a dead star. The room around them is totaled just from secondary effects, and they're both... a little mussed. He rubs his chin. "Not bad. But pointless. My master comes. I am but his Herald, once more."
Hal and Mary take to securing the transports, in their own ways. There is relatively little the Citadelian ground defenses can do to the Lantern (other than start ticking off battery percentage, 99%...), although the large transports do have some big guns they use to start trying to punch their way out (98%...) They're not going anywhere, at least.
And Mary has little trouble tearing down through the hull of one. She finds the large hold crammed with both goods and slaves, and guards. Of the latter two, the former prove capable of a certain degree of self-rescue. As soon as there's an opening, the Tamareanans fight visciously, the whole thing becoming a brawl. There IS however a gap in communication, as the first SHAZAM terrifies many. It looks like she just vaporized them! So she grabs some groups, while others flee the bolts.
Yet, by her foot, she feels a small tug. A young Tamaranean girl. She gestures, with a crooked finger, for Mary to lean down.
Out of nowhere, a short ways from the action, there's a few large explosions at the southern end of the port.
While Karras remains on the Milano, he uses the comms, the psy-link, whatever is convenient, to keep communicating, particularly to Hal and Rich who seem to wield wider-scale abilities. "I have contact with one of the northern commanders, they've taken a security post. His group has refugees who hoped to find transport at the port. It may be most efficient if we can fly those on the ships out, since they already have transportation? Your portals, gates, if we can organize those on the ground, they should be able to go to this planet of yours directly, yes?"
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt smiles gently at the young girl, leaning down as she knows what she's probably going to do. In this case, the girl gives Thunderbolt a shy kiss, and then suddenly blinks as Thunderbolt says, "Hey, you can understand me now? Let them know the lightning won't hurt them, it's taking them someplace safe. Honest." She pauses, then adds, "I'm a friend of Koriand'r." Which, well, considering these folks are enslaved by people that opposed her, is probably an okay thing to say.
Once the girl gets the word out to the other Tamaraneans that no, the lightning isn't going to hurt them and yes, it's getting them someplace safe, she starts channeling the lightning to get people out. Though, when she hears the massive *KABOOM* from Carol meeting up with Terrax, she looks over at the horizon, as if wondering if there's something more that she can do to help Captain Marvel.
Mainly because a Herald is a tough customer, and Morg didn't go down easy.
- Peter Quill has posed:
"-not much better. We'll work on that!" shouts Quill, over his shoulder, as he ditches Mantis and Rocket and goes to do some heroics.
A few moments later, and he's out rocket-booting around the airspace. It doesn't even take much catching up to Diana, since the Milano is plenty fast. "Hey Princess, need a hand?" It's good odds she doesn't, but Princesses hold a special place in the realm of pulpy space heroics. He can't help himself. And he does at least help her a bit, coming in with his trusty quad blasters, spraying hot plasma into a fighter that's trying to take up a position on her six.
Keep those eyes where we can see them, Quill!
His mask comms crackle, as the team all banters back and forth on plans and options, including Mantis and her 'goordinates' and Lord Orange Guy laying out some options. "Hey what say us uh, more 'close quarters' operators get on the ships then? I don't mean to brag in front of the space police, but I know a few things about hotwiring a heavy cruiser."
He doesn't want for confirmation, peeling off acrobatically and descending toward one of the transports. He can't tear through it like paper as Mary does, but he knows the best access hatch to aim for.
He blows it on the way in, then drops deftly into the hole. There's a few flashes from inside. "Attention, attention, this is your captain speaking..."
- Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol Danvers had intended to give some semblance to talking to Terrax, maybe goading him into some sort of admission or display of weakness. But clearly, the time for the exchange of words has passed. She does, indeed, smash her way through the incoming debris thrown her way, increasing in velocity in a diving rocket towards the Herald's massive frame.
Again, that uncanny awareness, making her react faster than human. Solids are more dangerous to her than energy, it's true, and she could get mighty clobbered by a big strike like that. Luckily, she isn't only a brick - she's an energy manipulator and she shows by counterstriking her energy blast up and into that attack, trying to blast it apart even as she accelerates.
The blocking doesn't come without cost, shockwaves and rubble rattling her brain and her body. Hurts like hell. Doesn't stop her. That's not the way this works. Captain Marvel won't be quitting today.
She lets out a roar of anger, her own rage at the desecration of life here - good or evil, Citadel or Tamaranean or star-tossed traveler - driving her to strike. Maybe it's childish, maybe fighting him isn't the most important thing. Maybe he wasn't even going to bother anyone anymore. but he forgot about one thing.
Carol wants to punch him in the face.
He brought this Doom coming towards them, the enigmatic ripple of absolute Death and Hunger, she has no doubt about that. He has drawn it here and so he must be punished. Preferably by knocking his teeth down his ugly throat.
- Sersi has posed:
No response to her request for help. That's concerning. Did the transmission not go through, or is more going on than she understands? Probably the second thing. Seems likely to happen when you jump into what looks like an otherwise pretty darned organized effort, if you stop to think about it.
Wind whips past Sersi's face without touching it, thanks to Mother Box's comforting enviro-aura. The turboblaster batteries swell into her field of vision as she fall-flies to them like a comet, only pulling up at the last moment into a graceful arc. Doznes of Citadel soldiers man them, of course, and are already leveling their weapons at the oddly peach-skinned alien flying into their midsts, barking commands she doesn't need to translate to understand. The language of the trespasser is pretty universal. Her toes touch down lightly on the ochre stone of Tamaran's capital defense systems, and her hands are raised to temple level with a charming smile on her face. "Hello," she greets. "Can any of you understand what I'm saying? I didn't specifically ask Mother Box to translate. I'm sorry about that. Did I mention that your weapons are made of a very interesting metal?"
Concentric lines of corsucating yellow power flash outward from her. The power is pretty and not quite ordered, not quite a pattern, but still lovely to behold if you're not a Citadel guard whose laz-rifles and vibropikes just got turned into an explosion of gorgeous yellow and orange flowers. If you are such a guard, well, you can be forgiven for not finding the display aesthetically pleasing.
"Or, well, they -were- made of an interesting metal," Sersi amends honestly. "Now be good boys and get out of my way so I can try to save your planet."
- Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet acts as a spotter for those charging in, quickly moving to pinpoint targets for them and give them locations and enemy postiions - something which was easy to lose track of in a wild melee. Even with however distant she *is* from it she can hear the blow that hits the charging Captain Marvel. She goes to send a quick telepathic check-in to Carol, attempting to quickly assess any injury she might have and combat status. There doesn't seem to be anything serious - even as she senses Mary going to join the melee she bites her tongue hard on. They're doing what they have to. If anyone can go toe to toe with him, then it would be them. But is throwing bodies at Terrax the most efficient thing to do to help the evacuation? Even mid-flight and mid-fight Monet's attention turns to Diana questioningly for instructions.
And Diana is going to escort the Milano and the group that deploys from it. Monet is not needed there - nor is merely playing spotter to them the best way to use her talents. And then she goes to see Sersi, and.. Whatever SErsi is doing. The Mother Box radiates power in a strange way, in a semi-sentient way that even Monet can somehow faintly comprehend. Her eyes widen as she sees the things that the guards carry with them transmogrifying. Matter manipulation?
Monet goes barreling down towards Sersi then to give her some backup, offering after a tentative moment with, "I can provide translation services if needed." One thing she had done on the way there was a telepathic crash course on the major languages of the planet - it would be enough to let her get by if need be.
- Richard Rider has posed:
"What might be best is for any Tameraneans on functional ships take them up to orbit so we can concentrate on the ones without ships. They can stay up there a day while we work on the planetside folks, then we can send the ships through. Anything we can do to get as many people off the planet as we can."
He's distracted for a moment by the shockwave from the palace, but he's in evac mode, so just keeps working on emptying the transports of Citadel so Tamaraneans can fill them instead.
It might reflect badly on him that he's dooming the Citadel soldiers to save the Tamaraneans but locals win over invaders as far as he's concerned. Once the local population is safe, he'll worry about sending the invaders back to their own planet.
"Karras, get those transports spaceward bound, we'll send them to New Themyscira later." Since nobody took him up on it, he skims across the city, looking for.... there! A broadcast facility. He doesn't bother looking for a door but rather just enters through the nearest wall and finds one of the studios. Accessing the worldmind, it only takes him a moment to get it broadcasting, overriding all other broadcasts on every radio and vid screen.
"This is Nova Prime, of the Nova Corps. We are attempting to evacuate as many of you as possible. Please try and gather at local spaceports, and gather whatever large vehicles that you can. We can send you somewhere safe, but there isn't time for all of you to walk through the portals. If you can fill a spaceship and get into orbit, we'll send you through once we're done on the ground." He sets the message to autorepeat and flies out the hole he made entering the building.
- Diana Prince has posed:
Out in the sky, Diana flies on golden metal wings. The presence of Rider behind her, causes the Princess to look in his direction. "We certainly have a target rich environment." His name is Rich, get it? "See if you can aid in limiting the aggressive onslaught on our friendly ships?" She asks him, as that is her intended goal in the moment.
Diana banks around in the air, her wings spreading out far to either side, as they help her natural flight ability add a bit of extra agility, nevermind the style!
"Captain Marvel-" Diana's voice speaks over comms. "Be careful with that target. He is deceptive. Expect a fight, and very little desire to solve anything peacefully."
The Princess zips through a trail of smoke, as an enemy vessel, with heavy damage, zipped through her flight path. When she burst through on the other side, she spoke up once more.
"Milano?" She hailed her home ship. "Transmit the coordinates to New Themyscira for those with the ability to create long range transit portals, tunnels, or otherwise. It is a refugee world, and the coordinates should be in your updated databanks following the connections with the Atlantic Starport visit."
another fighter zipped past Diana, but this one was grabbed on to by the sudden presence of her glowing yellow lasso! She snared it, and began to surf the wind behind it, as she pulled her way on to its hull, then unceremoniously began to tear pieces of the ship off of its hull, until it began to smoke, and lose altitude! With a burst of power, the ship came apart in to many large pieces, and Wonder Woman abandoned it to sweep up in a wide angle back in to the fray.
- Diana Prince has posed:
Diana's shimmering golden boots land upon the top of another enemy starfighter's hull. With her lasso wrapped around a section of the nimble craft's armor plating, just behind its cockpit, she is pulling herself up closer to the pilot's place inside the ship, when Star-Lord arrives behind her. A look is sent back over her shoulder at him, as she spares him a second's glance amidst the chaos. "More help is always appreciated." She called back to him, from the comm link mounted inside the Eagle helmet upon her head. A moment later, and a security system on the starfighter's surface activates, sending streaks of electricity toward Diana's boots, the bright blue'ish white lines of power zig-zagging their way up her legs, whilst the Princess merely looks down upon it. With her lasso around her wrists, she raises her arms, gathering the electricity through her body, coalescing it all within her hands, shifting the incoming security power to her palms, and around her fingers, creating spherical orbs of ball lightning that she suddenly jams down toward the cockpit, causing it to slam down upon the ship, and entirely electrify the pilots within the vehicle!
As Star-Lord veers off, Diana leaps from the fightercraft, her lasso trailing behind her as she follows Peter, descending down in to the same location that he enters in to, her boots landing near to his own, as the fighter she'd disabled fell from the sky in her wake.
"Lead on, Captain." She tells the fellow Earthling.
- Norrin Radd has posed:
GM note: Diana accidentally deleted a pose so the first pose belongs in the prior round!
- Hal Jordan has posed:
The transports that can be secured are secured. It's not enough. Not nearly neough.
But it will have to do.
But that doesn't mean that the Green Lantern is not without other means of helping.
A part of Hal Jordan very much wants to join the battle in the sky. Green Lanterns are supposed to be without fear. It is one of their defining traits traditionally. For his part, hal would argue that it is not so much that he is not without fear as that he is willing to set it aside, to overcome it and do what needs to be done.
That part of him makes him want to take to the skies, makes him want to launch himself against Terrax and take the fight to him. To pit his Will against whatever power Terrax serves, that approaches this world to consume and destroy.
It's the fighter in him. The pilot.
Right now though, the world doesn't need a fighter as much as a guardian. Someone willing to over succor and safety over a battle.
And by the sounds of it they might have a means of doing that.
Like Nova, it is possible for him to open transwarp portal as well, to facilitate long distance travel. But to do it in the atmosphere? That would be risky in the extreme, something saved for a truly last resort.
But to bring as many people here, as quickly as he possibly can? That is much more in his wheel house.
So Hal's mouth sets in a thin line of determination, brow furrowing in concentration. And springing up from that ring is a... giant bubble wand?
It might not look terribly heroic, but huge green bubble after green bubble begins to spring forth, quickly shooting off in all different directions, spreading across the city, across the continent, across the world as fast as the imagination and the willpower of Hal Jordan can manifest it.
And everywhere they travel they scoop up waiting refugees, drawing them up until each of those bubbles are packed as full as possible, only then drifting back, called to the power of the Guardian's greatest creation, back to the waiting portal that might carry as many as possible to freedom.
He might want to fight. But for now, this, this is how he can best serve the people of Tamaran.
- Norrin Radd has posed:
Ultimately, Carol discovers what Diana did on their previous encounter: a rare foe strong enough to take the kind of punishment they dish out and stay standing. She's likely faster, although like everything about him, the Power Cosmic aids Terrax in that as well. So she'll get those hits in, if not without risk. More, he's just a hell of a tank. And worst of all, every crackling blow she lands, every fissure in his form... it seems to heal a few moments later, the energy source pouring into him enough to replentish and repair.
He can even do it to the axe, which she learns when she forces him into a parry that cracks the neutronium-alloy surface, only for it to start to melt back together, bubbling energy converting the necessary additional matter. "What is the point of this? Your friends have the right idea. Take who you can and run. My master will not interfere in that. To him? All of them. Even you. Are bugs."
Elsewere, swathes of weapons turned to flowers puts a quick damper on many of the Citadelian defenders. They look around in confusion, and without their guns to make them dangerous, many turn and flee randomly, or toward the nearest of their remaining ships, hoping for some chance to escape the planet's surface.
Altogether, the Citadelian defense of the port really starts to crumble. Hal and Rich destroy plenty of hardware, Sersi disables more, and Monet, Peter and Diana clear a lot of the air. This makes it easier to get at the transports, as well. Peter quickly commandeers one. It's already on pre-flight, starting to launch, he just has to tap in different coordinates, lock the auto pilot... and on to the next? Maybe others can join him, if he can coach them through the controls.
Karras continues to help coordinate, joining Richard's efforts on the broadcast. "This is Karras of Palamar. Heed the Nova Corps instructions." He confers a bit, in communication with other officers. "Those with full control of their ports will send people off-world as fast as they can. Otherwise, they are suggesting small craft evacuations into orbit..."
Eventually, the Milano will begin to be able to track this as well, the rise in space traffic as ships slowly take flight all across the planet. It's a huge number of ships, although any quick review of the math would instantly reveal how far it falls short of planetary population numbers. Rocket can absolutely do that math, he... just doesn't say anything. But he's thinking it, right there next to Mantis.
Hal begins his own attempt at making up the numbers. Just in the area around the port, he can find hundreds, thousands. There is a large group on foot together, those approaching the south end of the port, but elsewhere, everywhere, there are people. Those who find the bubbles, having few other options, climb aboard.
97,95,93%... Its definitely a much heavier draw.
- Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet can do the math as she aids Sersi and the others in trying to clear as much of the atmosphere for evacuation as they can. Engaging Terrax is a sideshow. The proportion that they will be able to save will be very, very small. There are only so many transports that can break atmosphere, there are only so many that can be brought to quarters.. But even a few percentage points are better than a genocide. The pragmatic and logical part of Monet's brain is in charge as all emotions are buried and the defenses are mostly under lockdown and under the control of friendlies - hopefully at least enough to smush over any counterattacks. Terrax can hopefully be kept busy just a little longer. Even as his coming Master's approach is inevitable.
So it is with a very twisted sort of pragmatism that Monet reduces herself to an organic computer. Giving out data. Telepathically relaying information. Doing her best with the alien computer systems to try and coordinate things. She is not a hypercomputer, nor can she think insanely fast the way true super-geniuses can. But she does her best.
The time for mourning and disbelief will come later. Now.. Now all she can do is put all efforts into helping as many get away as they can, and trying to ensure the evacuation goes as smoothly as possible.
- Peter Quill has posed:
"Hi there, scuse me, thank you." Quill pushes the limp body of a Citadellian out of a chair, leans in, taps some commands into the console. "Rocket, do you have a remote interface for a... what model is this."
"Read me the serial number."
"Well, the first symbol is a little W shaped thing with two dots, then... like two sidways squiggles."
"Yeah nevermind just rip the case off. There three green wires? Or a red, blue, yellow?"
"Greens."
"Yeah I got that, hold on. I'll work on setting us up a slave circuit, these lunkheads probably use unified codes. Still uh, it'd be better if the existing pilots weren't conscious. Breathing. Whichever."
Peter soon jets out of the transport he's on, flying toward the next. "Did you guys get that? Any of you free, pick a transport, board, and knock out whoever's on board. Then we can fly all the ships out together. We can probably do it even if some of them are still up but they might try and sabotage it!"
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Once the girl explains what Mary's doing, her part in the evacuations gets a lot smoother. She keeps the girl near her, and she does squee a bit when Thunderbolt flies through the air with her in a secure grasp.
It's draining work, but Thunderbolt doesn't stop, continuing to shout and summon the lightning, getting the innocents on their way to safety. Much as she wants to fight Terrax, she's refraining because she remembers how tough a fight that was before. And the people need her. So she works, not worrying about getting tired. She can sleep later, right now these people need her help, so she helps. It's what she does.
- Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol Danvers appreciates all the good reasons not to attack Terrax. And she is glad that there are wholesome, responsible people following those better angels of their instincts. They are all heroes, worthy of the name, and no doubt, if someone were scoring the moral fiber of the people involved in this battle, many of these other selfless warriors would be ahead of Carol on points.
But.
She can't leave Terrax unpunished. It's making her actively angry that he can just inflict this mayhem and get away with it. And so she lashes out, blast after blast, blow after blow, until her nose is bleeding and her head is ringing.
She could go Binary, ramp up the power, pour it on and maybe, maybe she could take him. Maybe. But it would cost her almost everything and after a few exchanges and getting at least one good lick of her own in, she snarls.
"You're not worth it. But you'll see me again," she says, spitting in his general direction and then turning to help clear the path for escape, turning her violent attentions to the Citadel defenses attempting to prevent escape for any of the resistance.
- Hal Jordan has posed:
The Green Lantern power ring is amongst the strongest tools in the known galaxy, capable of virtually anything it's wielder can imagine. And while the stronger the Will of the wielder, the more efficient the power usage there are still limits. While Hal might have his Power Battery close at hand, tucked away into a little pocket dimension that his ring can access on anything above a completely drained charge, there is still a finite amount of poweer that can be channelled through the the ring in a twenty-four hour period. An immense amount to be sure, far greater then most Lanterns need.
But it is not inexhaustable. And not many Lanterns have to try and evacuate thousands, elt alone millions of people with theirs.
So the power ring around Hal's finger continues that slow, inevitable tick down, percentage points shaved off with increasing frequency as the minutes roll by, his expression left a mask of concentration, teeth gritted at the effort to keep those bubbles flowing out, speeding away in all directions.
Then the first of them begin to waft back towards them, the bubbles that had the shortest distance to travel starting to make their way back, drawn in by that summons, by the call of the Green Lantern's light.
Of course, pulling in all these people only does so much given the limited number of transports they have any their disposal. There are not many races that have the capacity to evacuate their entire population into space on the spur of the moment, let alone one that has been battling a hostile invading force as long as the Tamaranians have been.
Failing anything else, Green Lantern will simply drag all those bubbles, all those survivors with him off planet. Once beyond the atmosphere he can summon up that gateway with a great deal more safety if an alternative doesn't present itself.
But with the sheer load of power required? Power that is steadily increasing, moment by moment?
It is going to be a race against time. Or at the very least the power level of his ring.
- Richard Rider has posed:
As Nova circles the spaceport, he sees the first returning bubbles coming back loaded with refugees. Dropping down from the sky to land beside Hal, he again calls on the Nova Force to erase the distance between the spaceport and an open field on New Themyscira. "Send them right through, I'll leave this portal open for you. Keep up the good work, it's fortunate we have a Lantern with us today." There will be plenty of time to try and one up the other space cops when utter destruction isn't looming over a heavily populated world.
With a nod to Hal, he launches into the sky once more, then climbs straight up into space. The energy from the approaching worldship burns in his senses, making him wince and shake his head. "How the hell are we going to do this, there has got to be a way to stop him." he mutters to himself.
In his head the worldmind replies, "There really isn't. You may be able to withstand his attacks, but you couldn't hurt him."
Nova shakes his head, "I can't accept that, he's got to have a weakness."
"It is critical that you pay attention to me at this time Richard. At the most, you could delay him a few minutes."
Nova grits his teeth, allows the worldmind's data on the level of power that is approaching Tamaran to play out in his head, then curses fluently in several languages and dives for the planet. He curves his path to the opposite side of the planet from where they were, descending to the largest spaceport there. It is already packed with people loading on spaceships, busses and other types of transport, as well as thousands on foot. He drops a portal in the middle of the spaceport, then enhances his voice to announce in fluent Tamaranean "There is a portal to safety in the center of the spaceport, please try not to panic so we can get you all out."
- Diana Prince has posed:
With Star-Lord getting the ship they had boarded under control, Wonder Woman once more disembarked back in to the sky. She came out, just as a line of fightercraft were in hot pursuit, and as such, she swept up in to the sky after them.
Landing solidly upon the rear-most ship, the Princess swept her eyes across the rest of the six wingmen to the one she was riding upon. When the line of fighters began to individually open fire upon the transport they were told had been seized by infiltrators, Diana watched their weapon systems light up the horizon before her.
Marching toward the front of the small ship, she stepped right over the canopy of the vessel, crouched to to one knee, and criss-crossed her arms in the symbolic gesture of her people. Only with it, she attributed a great deal of force, and the power of the Aegis bracelets wrapped about her forearms. The pilot of the fighter that Wonder Woman stood upon, got quite a view of a strange woman suddenly down on one knee on the nose of his ship, with a blooming wave of kinetic power flowing out from her body, where it rushed across the other ships in his wing. Every last one of the ships had a rocking kinetic burst that flowed in to their vehicle's engine pods, shredding the mechanics to tiny pieces, before each of the vehicles all exploded in a succession of cacophonous explosions.
With the rain of starfighter parts falling to the world below, Diana turned to the cockpit behind her, and stared at the helmeted visor of the pilot within it. With one, decisive punch, she put her fist through the canopy glass, and ripped at the controls of the ship's interior.
Seconds later, and the Princess of Themyscira fluttered in the wind, disengaging with the fighter, as it plummeted out of the sky, its pilot ejecting from the ruined ship's interior.
- Norrin Radd has posed:
"Maybe so. There are many worlds yet to go.," Terrax answers Carol with an ominous tone. "Or perhaps not. There are many Heralds, too." Although the data remains heavily censored, held from the heroes by their inscrutable overlords, this pronouncement is of the sort that registers errors and complaints among even the so-called omniscient cosmic authorities watching the scene unfold.
There have never been many. There has always been but one, at least at a given time.
With command over the static defenses fully hacked (those that aren't flowers) with efforts from Monet and Sersi, the 'battle' at the port mostly comes to an end. Diana takes out a huge number of the small ships at once, depleting whatever reserves. There are some hostiles still in the air, and soldiers on the ground, yes, but the the ships fall to their own prior defenses, and the ground troops are... well, mostly not a match for the heroes, be it the large-scale powers of Hal and Rich, the Milano's guns and armor, or the individual potency of many of the others. Most start to scatter.
Across the tarmac, a large group begins approaching on foot, all Tamaranean. A large rebel army, and a larger train of refugees behind them, the ones approaching from the south. Hal could have surveyed them by now, but compared to his more wide-reaching bubbles, these are all together. There's also... just a fricken ton of them. They could cram some on the transports, especially as those aboard help toss off the loot in favor of people, but it's a migration, more than a mob.
All the heroes can do now is rush to shuffle these people spacewards, or off to the Stone of Eternity, right?
There is a crack of thunder above, as the sky splits open, the clouds break, all normal weather patterns thrown into disarray. A shadow falls on them. An armored visage. A HAND, reaching down from the heavens. The heroes have seen it once before, the strange purple helmet and the oddly humanoid face behind it. But they have never quite FELT it, felt his approach, his emerging touch upon the world. The earthquakes start next. Buildings shaking to their foundations, cracks appearing in the ancient stone. The Milano registers more, at greater distances. Tsunamis. Volcano erruptions. A planet tearing itself apart to heed the call of that outstretched hand.
Out in the migrant crowd, many of the Tamaraneans begin to panic, screem, run. It seems like they see something entirely different, as they point up into the sky: "X'hal! The Goddess has forsaken us!"
Quill's efforts (or maybe Rocket should really get the credit) bring more of the ships under their control by the instant, some of them lifting off. It seems like the time is now, as the tarmac itself begins to crack, bend, shudder.
Notably, it's no better on the far side of the world, where Rich ends up. Everywhere on the planet, it starts falling apart. People run, as he directs.
- Monet St. Croix has posed:
Nononono. The part of Monet's brain that is logical cannot comprehend. The part of Monet's consciousness which knows such things as this exist cannot comprehend. The part of her that is aware that this is the attempt of her mind to make something sensical of what it cannot understand is aware. To paraphrase, she is scared beyond the capacity for rational thought. But the irrational, the wild, the insane does not suit the self-styled Lady St. Croix well. She can look up at the Hand that is Galactus. That is here to come, to consume, to devour. Her body is on autopilot, her brain on shutdown, and she.. Screams.
She projects, up into the atmosphere in a howl, an expression of power over that she should not be capable of. She projects a scream of rage and pain. For those few moments in the far, far past of what might have been in a what might have where she was an aspect of something long since gone, the aspect of Flamebird, daughter of Rao.. It's aura screams with her upon that thing reaching down from the heavens. She speaks in judgement. The likes of which countless trillions over the billions of years have spoken of. In threat, in damnation, of whatever.
She mentally howls into the upper atmosphere in a way that she should not be able to project, she screams, she psioncially rages..
<<YOU ARE A MONSTER BEYOND KEN. YOU TAKE THOSE WHO ARE MONSTERS AND MAKE THEM WORSE.>> It is but one more meaningless, empty bit from those countless ones that have proclaimed judgement over countless planets and countless eons. Monet St. Croix herself, a non-entity trembles like she is having a seizure.
But that scream prevents her always fragile psyche froms hattering, from her very persona being torn asunder and collapsing, completely breaking. For now?
That scream of embodied helplessness is what keeps her from completely giving up and surrendering. Now she is there. Joining the exodus of that no doubt pathetically small percentage of the planet's population that they have managed to save. A small victory. But the pragmatic part of her from earlier that is in control and knows that this was the inevitable result of things and tried to shepherd this as best possible cannot even now state that it ended in that.
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary's instinct is to fight. To punch that hand and try and stop what's happening to the planet. But then she looks at the kid that's been at her side, and her gaze softens a bit. She then closes her eyes, drawing on every ounce of her reserves, every bit of the strengths and gifts the goddesses gave her.
And when she cried out, Seven Thunders uttered their voices...
"SHAZAM!!!"
A massive bolt of lightning roars from the heavens, in sheer defiance of the Hand coming down towards the planet. Thunder roars from the heavens, as the lightning strikes people gathered that aren't in a ship, or able to make it to a portal. They vanish in an instant, teleported away to the Rock, then to New Themyscria.
And then Thunderbolt is... no longer there. Instead, it looks to be a rather slender Terran female in a T-shirt and jeans. And she sways and collapses down next to her sidekick, the Tamaranean girl that helped translate for her as Mary coughs, "Never... did that much at once."
- Carol Danvers has posed:
Carol Danvers doesn't want to run. She wants to fight. She wants to throw herself in the face of the God of Death and pummel the great Doom of the Universe into submission. For a moment, she can't help but tighten her fists and prepare to do just that.
But there are too many in peril. Hopefully, internecine conflicts will be ignored more and more now that the obvious existential threat has arrived. Carol signals for her ship to come to her, heading towards it on an intercept course. There has to be some way to stop him. Maybe if they just had enough time.
Even as her ship approaches, Carol feels tears burning in her eyes. No matter what she does, thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe millions will die, at the touch and call of this great hand.
She hears that mental howl from Monet and nods grimly.
She sees that unleashing of Mary's power and swoops down, intending to help pick up the heroine and her ward, "Come with me!" she cries, intending to take them back to her ship. They can rendezvous with the Milano elsewhere.
- Peter Quill has posed:
With the fleet of stolen transports rising, Peter jet-boots back toward the Milano. Beneath him, he can see not only the huge massive river of people, but also the planet starting to come apart at the seams. He glances back over his shoulder and...
"Is that a fucking hand?!" Language!
There's something in him, too, a recollection, like they felt on Okaara, a recognition by some other part of him. But kinship to giant cosmic weirdos isn't a topic he wants to explore right now. He just rockets away even faster from that thing, booking it back to where Rocket signals him for a link-up.
He's a little unsteady as he steps onto the ship, and reaches down to his side, where the injury was. "Get us out of here," he's shouting ahead, up to Rocket. And get THEM out of here. As far away from the planet as possible. Every ship. Maximum thrust, out of atmosphere, out of orbit, just go. And tell every ship that's listening to do the same thing. Even the dumbass Citadel weirdos."
He's stalking back up toward the control room as he talks, reaching up to de-activate his mask and get some air.
When he finds Mantis up there, he puts his hand on her shoulder.
- Diana Prince has posed:
Diana is standing on one of the towers, as the world destroyer arrives in the sky. She bares witness to the sight of the planet beginning to rock, crack, and break apart. She feels a sorrow in her heart for the people of this world, that she could never explain in her own language, as there truly were not words for it. A look of sheer concern graces her facial features, as she lets her gaze goe toward the ships that are fleeing, that they have managed to gain some control over helping some people survive.
"Milano--" Diana's voice came across the comms again. "Prepare for your own evacuation. Now is the time, we have done all that we can. I will try to catch up with you."
A few quick lunging steps, took the golden armored Wonder Woman off of the tower, as it began to fall apart behind her, tipping toward the quake ravage ground. The shining wings of Diana's armor moved with animated waves, as the Princess navigated the crumbling city, flying directly toward the World Destroyer himself. She twirled through a toppling building, passing right through its interior as the building came apart, bursting out through to the other side, before she ducked down low, and arched her flight path beneath a bridge that was rapidly coming apart. Getting good, and low, the Princess glided above the ground of the planet's waterway, a distant tsunami visible from the ocean, headed toward landfall.
When she reached the edge of the shore, Wonder Woman flew upward again, right at the World Destroyer's appendage, that he had slammed down upon the planet's surface.
The man was massive compared to Diana, she merely a bug to him, but it did not matter, as Wonder Woman had a goal in mind, a very specific goal indeed.
A shining light surrounded the Themysciran Princess, as she twirled the Lasso of Hestia, and sent it spiraling out away from her body, toward a part of the Destroyer's planet-set hand! The brilliant twine of divine power, found its mark, and curled around his flesh, just as Diana pulled hard upon its other end.
Her helmet looked skyward, and with her dark hair blowing about her shoulders in the winds raging across the poor besieged world, she shouted up at the Destroyer, under the power of her lasso.
"Speak to me the Truth! What is your greatest weakness!?"
- Mantis has posed:
Mantis watches the communications console in horror as it picks up hundreds, perhaps thousands, of sporadic transmissions from the planet surface. Broadcasters reporting on the catastrophic events. People trying to reach loved ones in their final moments. Desperate military responses that would ultimately never bear fruit. As awful as it is, it's not what causes Mantis to lurch forward, hand pressed against her chest.
"So much terror..." she manages, unable to keep herself safe from the emotional turbulence coming from the planet.
Peter's hand could not reach her shoulder soon enough.
- Hal Jordan has posed:
The gateway provided by Nova simplifies matters considerably. It keeps Green Lantern from having to make some risky decisions in regards to the evacuation. From trying to take all of those millions of people caught up in his various emerald bubbles off world and to safety, instead continuing to guide them all to this one central point.
Even still, it takes no small measure of concentration to keep track of all of those various bubbles out there and he finally banishes the massively oversized bubble wand, ceasing that flow of energy constructs, saving what little power he can.
Because as that figure appears once more in the skies above the planet, as that massive purple helmet and strange features presents itself, it becomes clear that they are almost out of time.
There is certainly no time to let the panicked citizens of Tamaran have the dignity of walking through the portal so instead it is a steady stream of energy bubbles that drift on through that rift in space, guided to the waiting refuge beyond. First one, then ten, the dozens of bubbles flow through under Hal Jordan's watchful eyes.
Those transports that have not been able to lift off, have not been able to escape under the guiding hand of the Milano are also scooped up on great big skiffs, joining the procession to safety.
And Hal Jordan doesn't turn away from his charge until the very last construct is passed through that portal, until no one else stands in the deserted star port.
Only then does he turn his gaze heavenward, does he regard that hand reaching for the planet as if to crush it beneath it's grasp, somehow seeming like it could indeed do that.
And he is suddenly very glad that he didn't insist that they make a stand here, that he didn't urge the others to fight. How do you fight something like that?
The Green Lantern has no doubt htey'll find a way, but at this moment he has no idea what it might be.
Which means that maybe it is time to answer some of the Guardian's messages. Maybe it is past time to demand some real answers.
"Milano, Nova, anyone else listening. Everyone we can possibly get off the planet is gone through the portal. You can close it up," he says heavily.
It is inevitable that they haven't gotten to every last person. Not on a planet this size. It's just an impossibility. Still, they have saved millions. Millions who would have died. That's something.
Streaking upward into the sky, that emerald light glints against the darkness of the void as he leaves the atmosphere.
"Ring, scan all frequencies, all wave-lengths. Gather up all the information you can," Hal says quietly, hovering high above the soon to be dead world. At least someone should witness the end of a world that deserved a much better better fate.
And who knows. Perhaps they might still learn something important.
- Richard Rider has posed:
As the ground begins to shake, Nova keeps people moving. Looking up at the sky, he imbues the portal with enough energy to keep it going for hours, then leaps into the air, arrowing towards Galactus. His whole body glows as he summons up the full power of the Nova Force, and his entire body becomes a missile aimed right at an unstoppable force of the cosmos. With a wordless yell, fists extended in front of him he passes the reaching hand and impacts right between Galactus' eyes. It's a hard enough hit that the very incarnation of Hunger pauses for a second, eyes focusing on Nova. A torrent of energy pours from those eyes, blowing the gnat away from his face and flinging him thousands of miles into space.
Fortunately the Nova Force encasing him is up to the job of protecting him even from power like this, so he finds himself unhurt but also far away from the planet. He shakes his head and arrows back towards the doomed world.
"I told you that would happen" comes the mental voice of the worldmind.
"Really, REALLY don't need that right now."
As the evacuees vanish through portals or launch spaceward on ships, Nova finds the Milano and boards. Walking towards the cockpit, he punches a bulkhead (carefully not using super strength) and snarls, "Dammit, there HAS to be a way to stop this thing."
- Norrin Radd has posed:
Peter's instinct is correct. This is how a world dies, and the process, now, is one of minutes, not of days or hours. Every moment counts. Every second a life. They will not save everyone. They cannot. But each soul is that much more, for when the people of Tamaran start again.
Tectonic plates break apart, and whole continents tilt and shift, while the fiery lifeblood of the planet jets into the sky, the bleeding wounds of a dying planet. Even those erruptions act against the laws of physics, arcing higher in the air, as if reaching out to heed the call of the lifted hand. Galactus does not simply destroy. He feeds. He devours.
He does not do so without resistance, without heroes to dare stand in his way, defiant against what to them is close enough to a true God as for any distinction to be irrelevant. Rich Rider, Nova, goes fully on the attack. Anything to slow the titan, anything to buy those few more seconds, and with each one, that many more lives. And he proves exactly what a hero's power, what the power of the Nova Corps unleashed in full upon the Devourer is worth:
A moment. Seconds. A flinch and a swift rebuke. It is a lesson, for when they face him next.
Diana too, goes on the attack, although hers is with a different intent than a simple delaying tactic. She seeks to earn them something for this encounter, to claw something back beyond mere survival. It is one disadvantage, of looking down upon enemies as insects, that one may disregard a single wasp's sting. That hand, outstretched, seems focused only on whatever cosmic task of energy absorbption. It does not react to her, although the vast current of energy flowing toward it alone proves a barrier, a defense. She must weather through it, like flying through a hurricate, before she can get close enough.
Galactus' size is itself a thing beyond simple Newtonian physics. He could stand just as easily before the heroes to converse, if he chose, or appear so large as this, to grasp a planet, or perhaps larger still. Intent matters. Perception matters. Like the collapse of quantum superposition, her act of binding defines his size and shape, and defines it on her own terms. Does she grip a finger? His whole hand? Against the torrent of energy, it is hard to say, but she does secure him.
And not even the Devourer can defy the Golden Perfect. His voice is angry, at being forced to speak, but speak he does: "THE ULTIMATE NULLIFIER."
What the hell is that?
- Norrin Radd has posed:
Diana won't get a chance for the clarifying follow up question, however, for her interference is soon met with the harshest of rebuke. That great hand now grips, shifts, swings, and with the power of a meteor flung against a planet, she is thrown against the hard ground below. Perhaps the mightiest woman on Earth, the impact leaves a crater. And it leaves her broken in it, the lasso coming loose when her will fades.
All that's left, then, is life.
For Mary, it's no question, to risk hers in unleashing all her power like that. The bolt that strikes the tarmac, where that great river is, a hundred, a thousand times wider than the others. In a flash, they are gone. Safe. And in that same moment, Mary risks herself, powerless, to the fissures, the volcanic ash and debris, even to the vengeance of a random fleeing Citadelian, if her luck was poor.
But she has help.
And so will Diana. Hal is the very last of them to go. He has the benefit of a countdown, after all. The Ring reports the number dutifully, as he sweeps every remnant that Mary hasn't into the portal, lifts ships, gathers more from afar, 75%... 50%... 25%... Every percentage point is time, and it is lives. And in good heroic fashion, he leaves it to the wire, the last green scoop nabbing Diana's body from her crater before he propels them into space. 2%... 1%...
The heroes make it, barely, to a 'safe' distance, into orbit and beyond. The Ring, the Milano's sensors, and the eyes and senses of many heroes (not currently knocked unconscious or flung through space!) all report in upon the final moments of the planet Tamaran. From space, they can see it crack, see the fractures cut down to the molten core, see it bleed fire into the hand of the strange purple giant. Stranger energies still follow, crackling flickers in the fabric of space as its constituent matter is ripped apart, as Galactus takes... everything.
Those who have not been teleported out there, the many ships, both those the heroes launched and many from elsewhere on the planet begin to gather, forming a caravan in space. Earth's heroes have seen it before, when the first alien refugees, citizens of another dozen worlds, first began arriving at Earth. The image is unmistakable. The dozen separate calamaties described by as many different species from all across the galaxy.
Each and every one, lost to Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds.
