19063/Tales of Gemworld: An Opalious Trap

Tales of Gemworld: An Opalious Trap
Date of Scene:	19 September 2024
Location:	Nilaa - Other Dimensions
Synopsis:	Amy leads a group of heroes into Nilaa to rescue Ypsilos, her beloved pegacorn. They end up at an exotics auction and run into a fight they aren't ready for: Dark Opal.
Cast of Characters:	Amy Winston, Monet St. Croix, John Constantine, Daniel Ketch, Diana Prince, Mercy Thompson, Lorna Dane, Vivian Vision

Amy Winston has posed:
Earth - House of Mystery - Maybe on Earth?

Having gathered the assembled forces, Amy... Amethyst wrings her hand a little as her gaze is distant as she began to speak, her words painting a vivid picture of a world unlike any other. "Nilaa..." she began, her voice soft but filled with emotion, "is a land born from ancient magic and timeless beauty. Imagine a place where towering castles rise from cliffs, their stone walls embedded with gemstones that glitter like stars in the sunlight. The streets are lined with cobblestones of quartz and sapphire, winding through towns that pulse with the energy of magic, where knights clad in enchanted armor stand guard over realms of crystal and color."

Her hand moved to the hilt of her sword, and her expression grew serious. "I was born a princess of Nilaa, though I was never meant to rule from a throne. No, my path has been different-one of battle, sacrifice, and... loss." Amy's voice softened as she spoke the last word. "Ypsolis, my pegacorn, my trusted mount, my friend, was taken from me. Stolen, in a plot to break my spirit and weaken my resolve. But they don't know me." Her voice took on a steely edge. "I will find him, and I will bring him home."

With those words, she stepped forward, raising her arms. "But first, I must shed this Earthly disguise."

Golden light began to gather around her, coiling like threads of sunlight. The air around Amy shimmered with energy, the power of Citrine magic awakening as it wrapped her in a brilliant cocoon. Her voice was calm and assured. "Amaya is my true name, my true self."

The golden light transformed, weaving itself into her battle armor-a regal, radiant ensemble befitting a Battle Sorceress Princess. Her eyes glowed with a fierce determination, her stance embodying both grace and power. Those watching could feel the shift, as though the very air around her had changed.

Drawing a sigil in the air, Amy, now Amaya, spoke once more. "The time has come to return to Nilaa, to save Ypsolis, and to restore what was stolen from me." As her hand moved, the sigil flared to life, and a portal began to open before her, its swirling depths revealing a world of brilliant color: Nilaa, in all its magical glory.

Amaya turned to face her audience one last time. "This is not just a mission of rescue; it's the reclaiming of something I am. And to give Nilaa hope that her Princess still fights for her."

With that, she stepped through the portal, disappearing into the world she had always belonged to.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
It's always a dangerous thing to go into an unfamiliar land of magic and mystery. Where there are hostile threats that are likely unknown. Monet rarely has to go to such places of magic, the dangerous locales she has been to are often in space, amongst dangerous aliens and exotic technology and planets. But a realm of magic usurped by a dangerous dark lord is an altogether different thing. She keeps herself focused, otherwise running through possible scenarios in her mind for their arrival.

She has little room for immediate analysis, but has a series of open ended projections using other briefings and sources of experience. In this case, from the chaotic realm of Otherworld, where she has barely been but knows numerous others for whom it is home. A realm ruled by nobles and warriors will hopefully not have the complete anarchy that is the magical space between the multiverse. There will be a sort of dangerous, dangerous order to the place.

"I will do my best to keep us all telepathically connected as a backup to magic, but I cannot guarantee that I will be able to maintain it depending on what we will be facing. Given the.. Lack of familiarity many of us have with threats, passing along information on the network will be extremely critical. Stay mobile, keep moving, and spread out. We don't want to be clustered together."

Because many of them would not survive a dark mage casting fireball or acid rain.

John Constantine has posed:
"Right then, we're off to Oz to see The Wizard and you're actually Glenda Good Witch?" John snarks - it's not really mean spirited snark - maybe he's just in a 'mood'. But he's here and on board with going so that counts for something. Is anyone surprised that he has a cigarette dangling between his lips when he steps out after Amaya?

"Stay on standby, ey?" he requests quietly of his House through the swirling purple portal he just stepped through. He's sure she can hear him, she pretty much always does - but sometimes an actual answer would be nice, a little reassuarance - especially when leaving his home dimension or planet.

Today his pockets are loaded, but somehow that trench coat still seems to billow out about the bottom when he walks. That damned slouched swagger, hands in his pockets and that smirk of a smile - the one that makes him seem as if he knows a joke not everyone is privy to, it's all in place. His armor's up and ready.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Daniel vaguely remember Ypsolis, which was hardly the strangest thing in Nilaa. Would he have volunteered to go save him? Probably not, it was an animal after all. But on the other hand, he wants to see Nilaa again, and Amy is right stating they need to start hitting back, so the population knows Dark Opal is not unchallenged by the other noble houses.

Besides she asked, who is going to tell her no?

"What is the plan?" He asks. Are they going to teleport directly to wherever the Pegasus is being held? Amethyst palace? Or... oh, ow. Telepathic thingy is on. He really doesn't like to have anyone in his head, and he is not good at guarding his thoughts. But he tries! And he follows the others through the portal.

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana had arrived in the Invisible Jet, which was stationary, hidden in the sky above as the meeting took place below. The Themysciran Princess was dressed in her standard gladiatorial armor, that once belonged to her fallen Aunt, and mentor, Antiope, but now she has included extra pieces such as ornate golden pauldrons, additional armor plating over her thighs, and an assortment of weapons mounted to her leather harness that is tightly strapped to her torso.

Diana had greeted the others in attendance for Amethyst's speech, and watched the transformation in to Amaya. She stood quietly by, observing with a intended intention of absorbing every spoken detail, as it would be key to what they were going to face here today. She envisioned the landscape, as it was so detailed by Amy's passionate words, but when it came time for the portal, and the sight of the armored Amaya leading the way through it, Diana spared a glance to the others.

She watched, as they began to move toward it, and with one hand upon a golden battle spear, Diana raised her shining Eagle helmet over her head, settling down upon her dark hair, where the gleaming golden helm would provide further protection should this mission turn to violence.

With a steady, even stride, Diana moved toward the portal, and slipped through with the rest. Once through, she gave her spear a single sweeping ttwirl, before she planted the butt down upon the ground once more, clutched in her right hand, she gave it a testing squeeze, as her eyes roamed over the transitional landscape that they were emerging out in to now.

She did not yet speak, as she had nothing yet to say, but she did regard the others, to ensure they were making the transition between plains safely and without any ill effects of portal travel.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy is really not sure how smart it is for her to be here. She doesn't have a costume and doesn't 'do' magic like a lot of people tend to. She's a mechanic, but she met Amy and there just seems something fundementally long with taking a girl's horse. Especially a magic one. So to show solidarity she is doing the most mature thing she knows, helping out and wearing a 'My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic' tee shirt. And while normally she avoid brighter colors it sounds like that may not be so bad in the place they are going.

    She also made sure to bring a gun with her, because she never got good with a bow. Between that, her knife, and other natural skills she HOPES to be ready. Seeing some familiar faces will help her calm down. "Hey um if someone can end up picking my clothes if I have to or am force to change. It would greatly appreciate it." Mercy also is rubbing the hell out of her arms. All this magic has her skin buzzing and her teeth rattling in her head. She tries to hold it in but gives a sneeze. "Sorry about that."

    The group is given a once over and she takes a slow breath with her mouth slightly open. Trying to make sure that this group gets 'locked' into recent memory for scents. Just in case. That done she gives one last nod of confidence and gets ready for this. "You got that lock of mane right, Princess? If you're willing I'd like a moment to see it. I'll give it right back."

Lorna Dane has posed:
This isn't quite what Lorna envisioned when Amy asked if she wanted to see Nilaa.

The obvious question - of the safety in such a thing - came up immediately-- and once the anxiety summoned by its careless voicing subsided, the nearly-as-obvious answer lingered: there were places away from Lord Opal's eye; ways to look without being seen... all it'd take is a little bit of faith, if Lorna really wanted to see the Princess' homeland. And while that faith's been growing rapidly with every day that's passed since their dance, the realities of life in a chaotic world came to bear. There were forays into Hell; there were late-night planning sessions upstate, or across the ocean. Responsibilities to bear...

She figured she'd have time, that they'd come around to it. Instead, here she is: mindfully posted behind the Princess, armored head bowed in respectful silence; pacing after her as she moves to introduce herself, bare hand grazing the Princess' back as arms lift and proclamations are made.

Wondering dimly, thanks to her years in Westchester, whether there is an upper limit to the blood Amethyst will countenance being shed in her name.

"Honoring the budding friendship between our two nations, I pledge my blade to your service in this task," emanates from six feet of gleaming, emerald-tinged, titanium-steel armor, "not as Genosha's Queen, but as Princess Amaya Amethyst's knight." A single long, slender wisp of green hair trails from the back of an otherwise sealed helmet. The Queen's visage is hidden behind a deep cross-cut in front; the inner surfaces of the wound glow, dimly, with electromagnetic radiance. The rest of her armor is a sleek and classically inspired compromise between medieval plate and modern aesthetics: layers of protective metal overlaid atop snatches of a ribbed, deep green underlayer of thick protective material.

The aforementioned blade - a grand scythe with Genoshan sigils engraved along its massive, wickedly curving and ornately sculpted head - rests across her shoulders, secured by the arm looped casually over its haft. Metal slides down her other wrist, sealing her hand in an articulated gauntlet; she gives her fingers a brief flex, clenches even more briefly, then sets off into the portal.

Vivian Vision has posed:
When Amy first told Vivian Vision about Nilaa and mentioned the possibility of a visit this was perhaps not entirely what either of them had in mind. Of course given Viv is also a Titan and an ally to the Young Avengers. So her probability analysis /did/ rather assume at least some sort of peril would occur. Because pretty much every time she's been to another dimension or parallel universe... Well stuff tends to happen.

Being a superhero is weird sometimes.

With shoulder length green hair, skin that's a sort of pinkish red colour, and yellow eyes that faintly flow there's no way to mistake her for a typical person. Never mind the solar gemstone set in her forehead. But she moves with confidence and an ease that shows while not organic she's clearly not some simple robot.

She nods along to the speech. Her reason for being here nothing more than Amy being a new friend who needed help.

That the help in question is for a good cause? Well that's always a bonus.

The pockets on her yellow cargo pants are packed with a selection of potentially useful things. Medical supplies, ultra high energy food rations, and some bottled water. The green t-shirt and sneakers are hardly fit for 'associating with Royalty' but, after Amy transforms herself into Princess Amethyst and opens the portal, there's a shimmer as she projects a holographic field around herself. Adopting a disguise that's more medieval squire than Earth college student. She even ensures the gambeson and hose are colour matched to Amethyst to show her allegiance! Although she doesn't presume to include a coat of arms or insignia.

It'd be rude without asking.

Amy Winston has posed:
As the group steps through Princess Amethyst's portal, they are immediately enveloped in the surreal light of Nilaa's rainbow-hued sun. High above, the radiant orb dominates the sky, its colors shifting from vibrant yellow-orange at the outer edges to piercing blue-white at the center. The sky itself is a rich, deep blue, perfectly framing the sun's kaleidoscopic brilliance, casting shimmering hues across the world in a way no Earthly sun could ever hope to match.

They find themselves in an alley near a bustling marketplace, the ground beneath their feet paved with cobblestones threaded with veins of gemstone: garnet, sapphire, and citrine twinkling in the magical sunlight. Towering stone buildings rise around them, their medieval spires and turrets adorned with inlaid crystals, giving the entire market the appearance of a city sculpted from precious jewels. A gazebo made from wood and elegantly designed is outside the market for bidders to lounge in when not making purchases.

All around, the sounds of a creature auction fill the air-booming voices, the clinking of armor, and the occasional growl or neigh from the fantastic beasts on display. Knights in gleaming armor, their breastplates etched with intricate carvings and studded with gemstones, move purposefully through the crowd. Magicians, draped in flowing robes covered with shimmering sigils, haggle over prices while their staffs glow faintly with magical energy. Banners bearing the ancient crests of Opal's House ripple in the breeze, casting fleeting shadows across the cobblestone streets.

At the heart of the marketplace stands the auction platform, a raised dais of stone where Nilaa's most wondrous creatures are presented to eager buyers. In iron cages and fortified pens, magical beasts shift restlessly beneath the brilliant, multicolored sunlight. A majestic griffin, its feathers gleaming with a golden sheen, stands proudly within its enclosure, its sharp eyes scanning the crowd with an air of untamed majesty. Nearby, a silver stag with crystalline antlers paces, its mirrored fur reflecting the rainbow light as it catches the eyes of every passerby.

A massive bear with iridescent fur, its colors shifting with every movement, growls softly from behind its iron bars, while a group of winged horses-each with wings as brilliant as pearl and obsidian-neigh and stamp their hooves in a sturdy pen. A small dragonling, no larger than a hound, glares out at the crowd from its cage, its scales sparkling with the shifting hues of Nilaa's mesmerizing sun.

The auctioneer, a towering figure draped in dark robes adorned with golden threads, raises his arms to the crowd, his booming voice cutting through the noise. As he calls for bids on a sleek, black wolf with eyes that glow like molten lava, the group can feel the excitement ripple through the gathered masses, eager to claim a piece of Nilaa's magic.

Beyond the bustling market, in the farthest corners of the kingdom, four towering Quartz Sentinels stand, silent and watchful. Positioned at the kingdom's borders, these giant crystalline guardians have stood for centuries, their bodies shimmering with light, keeping the ancient magic of Nilaa in balance. Each one gleams in harmony with the rainbow sun, their quartz bodies reflecting the shifting colors, casting protective wards across the land. They are the kingdom's first and final line of defense against outside incursion, impervious to time, their duty eternal.

Amy Winston has posed:
<< I'm the best Magical Girl you'll ever meet, short of your wife. >> Amethyst shoots back at John with a mischievous grin, her voice laced with playful confidence through the telepathic link she just cast. As she follows the others toward the portal, two glimmering gems swirl into her hands, ready to summon their power as she prepares to step into the unknown. << Monet, you're right to be cautious. Stay sharp, and the glamour I cast should make us blend in with the locals-at least for now. >> Her mind sharpens, flickering between the conversation and the task ahead.

<< The plan, Ser Daniel, >> she begins, her tone shifting to one of command, << is to infiltrate the market, gather intel on when Ypsolis is scheduled for trade, and then we'll rescue him. >> The words tumble out with the precision of a princess-turned-battle-strategist, though there's a heat to her thoughts-Opal has her mount, and the idea of what could happen if they don't act fast stirs a frustrated fire inside her. Opal's actions are an affront, and Amy's headstrong streak flares beneath her calm exterior.

<< Unless Lady Mercy's remarkable senses pick up his trail the moment we're through the gate. >> Amy adds, her smile softening as she glances toward Mercy. Despite the gravity of the situation, there's a glimmer of warmth. Mercy will be ready when the time comes; Amy is sure of it. << If you end up without your clothes, Mercy, we'll find you something fit for a princess. >> A teasing smile lingers on her lips, but her eyes are sharp-focused.

She turns to Lorna, the queen's presence grounding her in the midst of the chaos. << Nilaa welcomes Queen Polaris, and her assistance is deeply appreciated. >> There's a subtle nod of respect toward Lorna, a weight in her words that only those who know Amy would recognize as genuine gratitude. Then, her gaze shifts to Vivian with a wry chuckle. << You didn't think GIRL would take you to a place like this, did you? >>

Amy's expression hardens as she steps onto Nilaa's soil, the warmth of home turning her demeanor steely. "We're in Diamond," she announces, frowning as her eyes scan the unfamiliar surroundings. "I didn't expect the market to be here."

Her tone is firm, a princess stepping into her role with full authority. The weight of her homeland's magic, the stakes of the mission, and the fierce determination to retrieve Ypsolis set her stance: feet planted firmly on the ground, gems at the ready, and her heart burning with purpose. There is no room for failure.

John Constantine has posed:
Oddly, mention of Meggan brings a slight downward turn of his mouth and no return quip.

A place of magic.

Once John's snark is out of his system, he lets his 'other' senses wander. Might be a good idea to get the 'ley' of the land, feel out what he might be able to pull on and use to his advantage.

Despite still being uncomfortable with it, that mental link doesn't distract him from the task at hand. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, then his arms as if he's sloughing something off - chucking doubt and uncertainty more like than not.

It only takes a moment for that to fade away when he feels the near overwhelming amount of power here. All the chitchat around him and that in his head goes unheard in those first few moments. When John opens his eyes again, they're glowing white with just the faintest hint swirling color. He raises his hands, palms up and arms outstretched to just about waist level. It starts as two glowing, nebulous spheres, one in each hand and culminates into sparks of colorful electricity dancing between them.

"I could get used to this," he murmurs himself before clenching his hands into fists to snuff it all.

"Right then, shall we?" He's never really been known for his patience.

Any self-doubt, any trepidation, any niggle of fear through that link - it all but vanished the moment he tapped into magic of this place.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
A high stakes, dangerous auction where people are wanting to take a piece of existence with them and are willing to bid anything for a stake of eternity. This scenario is familiar. Monet goes to close her eyes after a moment, going to shift over the equipment that she had taken with her when she had been told they were going to a realm of magic and danger. At least what things she could from the Embassy to be ready for it. All of it was hidden over underneath a large cloak. A heavy shield, a short spear, and a blade at her side. She was ready for close quarters fighting, but at range she would be limited to her ability to fly.

As the mission briefing comes in upon their arrival, Monet goes to glance up and over at the entity that seemed to be leading the auction. <> An agent of the one that had taken over this realm, if not them themself. Or one powerful enoug hto take the spoils and put them up for auction and the riches. But seemingly too potent to be a mere schemer.

Monet would keep the cloak up and over her, taking a breath and speaking along the mental link <<I wouldn't be able to fake anything past him, or most of the crowd telepathically. If we're looking for a distraction, being engaged in the bidding process and causing a ruckus might lead to some openings.>> Monet goes to thoughtfully glance over along the crowd present, activity buzzing.

<<Constantine, your repetoire includes things like pickpocketing, I would presume? You would be by far the most apt of us at it.>> Her brief plan opening to the others if they needed a distraction was darting through the crowd to nab some specie to either make thier own bid or have those making them suddenly finding themselves without what they were spending, and being removed by the guards.

She would click her tongue <<We're outpowered here and in a hostile land. WE should go as stealthily as we can for as long as possible. We won't do well in a straight up fight. Magic might get us noticed. Better to stay to sleight of hand.>>

Diana Prince has posed:
With the landscape, and market, mirroring the words that Amethyst had described them as, Diana let her gaze roam over it all. It was the words from Mercy, and the others, that drew her attention back. She had been surprised to see Mercy here, but upon eye contact with her, she'd just smiled warmly to her. "We will make sure to keep you safe, and covered." She told her friend.

Diana began to move then, taking a simple casual stride to garner a better visual spectrum of what was taking place at the market. An auction, of a vast variety of intriguing creatures. For a moment, she frowned at the sight of it, but this was a foreign land, with foreign customs. Perhaps this was a normal affair for Gem World, or perhaps this was a result of the Dark Opal mandates that have fallen across Amy's homeland.

Wonder Woman's eyes went back to Amaya, as she explained the mission toward Daniel. She drew in a light breath, and stepped back toward the others, her staff held at her side, its silvery spear tip gleaming in the ambient light around them.

"We must focus on our goal, and not push ourselves to release the other creatures from their bonds. If we over extend ourselves, the entire mission could unravel." She softly said, as she glanced back toward the market, and its looming auctioneer in his black and golden attire.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Daniel nods. Just information gathering, good. Well, if he can remember the rules and etiquette in Nilaa. Yeah... he better keep his mouth shut. Let the glamour cover his too-Brooklyn clothes and ratty coat. Yes, yes, he brought a shotgun and plenty of ammo, but he assumes the Rider will do all the heavy lifting, he usually does. If ironically for a magical creature, the Rider sticks out even more in Nilaa than on Earth.

That is, they also tend to assume he is a demon.

Bright sunlight, clear air, cobblestone streets. He sighs and shakes his head. He could get used to this place... nah, something is going to explode soon. It never fails.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy didn't know what to expect and was NOT ready for what it was like to be here. Her first motions once they arrive in Nilaa is to stumble a bit, she catches her balance but her whole body is stiff a moment. A sound comes from her that isn't not easy to place, not a grunt nor a sound of longing. She gives a hard shake of her head and slams her eyes shut. There are five deep slow breaths, in through the nose and out the mouth. She is not used to mental speech and so ends up saying over the link, <hold it together Mercy. Two legs. Two legs right now.>

Having gotten a bit of a handle on herself. "This place is tugging at something in me hard. I've not felt something like this. But I can smell your friend her. They're in the market, I can assure that. I can't get a trail though." Mercy forces her hands open and gives them a good shake to try and loosen up. "I so don't want to derail the goal here. But if there's a stall with kebobs and we got local money. I'll get you a bucket of Harlem's best chicken in return if someone gets me one so I can have something to chew on." She seems to be adjusting but it's kind of clear to anyone that knows her that Mercy's got a bit of a thing going on with her for those first few moments.

Vivian Vision has posed:
<< You would be surprised at the places I have been," Vivian replies through the magical link. There's a sense of control alongside the words. Like she's having to exercise extreme effort to think slowly and with just one voice. Even then it sounds more like a chorus of voices working together than a single pure thought. <<But the one thing I know about the people who join GIRL? It's to never /ever/ underestimate them.>>

Typically her holographic illusions wouldn't stand up to those with super senses. Anyone with super speed too can generally catch the flicker of the real beneath the technologically controlled beams of light. But the addition of Amethysts illusion magic likely sure up the disguise!

"Gosh it's quite," she murmurs aloud. Staring up at the blue sun with it's rainbow hues. "Different here my Liege." There is a beats pause. "I.." She frowns and rubs her temples. "I don't quite know why I said that."

Her own systems aren't really intended for a magical land. But she can still see and hear far better than a Human. And given they're in potentially hostile territory it doesn't hurt to keep a careful watch out. Plus everything she records here? Wonderful data for study later. And she can share with those who missed out on the experience!

Who doesn't love a good magical girl adventure story?

<<Is it bad I already miss my internet connection?>> She laments, not that she'd be picking up much next to the electromagnetic radiance of Polaris. Her head tilts towards Wonder Woman and she adds <<If any of those creatures are self aware thinking beings I do not think I can morally agree to /leave/ them. What sort of message does that send?>>

Her head tilts back a little. Hair falling away to reveal the solar gem. A little like she's drinking in the energy. "Are we likely to raise suspicions if we talk in English? This method of communication is not something I am familiar with." Thinking at organic speed is /rough/!

Lorna Dane has posed:
Crackling, emerald dismay arcs across the surface of Polaris' armor at the sight of miracles in cages in chains; and clamoring, teeming citizens hungry to own them, body and soul.

<< Some things stay true no matter how far you go-- >> radiates through the mental link, taut with the restraint required to keep her dismay to a low ebb and remember that they're direly outnumbered in hostile territory. While she doesn't protest Diana's point of looking past the chained menagerie of wonders, she doesn't swallow it so much as she sets it aside to be dealt with later, letting the enormity of the mission itself keep her firmly focused on the primary goal of winning back a fundamental piece of Amaya.

<< We should split up. >>

To that end, she reaches towards Vivian, beckoning briefly as she starts towards the auction block.

<< Do we have money--? Are bribes on the table? People like being bribed, >> she notes, each step landing with a singular, resonant thump. << Chat people up; bring them in, wow them with tricks to get their attention and good will... >>

She's gentle enough about it, but insistent about pushing past bidders, fording her way front and center amidst the crowd.

<< Since I picked standing out like a sore thumb for this little stealth mission... >>

"Ho!" booms from Polaris, who pitches her voice touch lower to better suit her imposing profile and lowers the butt of her enormous weapon to the ground, where it stands nearly as tall as she is. "Those meager beasts might suffice to impress... well."

She turns her head from side to side, taking great care to scan over a myriad of faces even though she can't quite be seen doing it; every little bit helps to make the eventual:

"Peasants," hit with just the right level of noble disdain, "but what of those who possess a higher level of discernment--?"

<< ... try not to fuck this whole thing up... >>

She doesn't take another step further, because they're on Nilaa. She hasn't even looked for stairs; they're on Nilaa.

She simply ascends through a light-footed hop that leaves her on the auction stage, approaching the auctioneer with steady, deliberate *thmp!*s of her haft against wood.

"But what of Dame Lordane, the Viridian?" she wonders, holding steady after just a few steps and giving the auctioneer enough room to respect the aura of power indicated by Monet's probing. "Surely, you've something more than... this, to entice me."

Amy Winston has posed:
With determination fueling her, she moves to follow Polaris, ready to support her in this delicate dance of diplomacy and defiance against the oppressive forces surrounding them.

As Amy and the others take their positions, the atmosphere in the auction house grows electric with anticipation. The auctioneer, draped in a striking black and gold robe, steps to the front of the stage, his voice booming over the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed collectors of the extraordinary! We commence this evening with a most magnificent specimen-a griffin, a creature of beauty and strength! Behold!"

With a flourish, he gestures to the center of the stage, where a griffin is displayed, its feathers shimmering like polished gems under the ambient light. The creature shifts restlessly, powerful wings unfurling briefly, showcasing its regal form. Gasps ripple through the crowd, and Amy can feel the energy shift as potential buyers zero in on the prize.

"Bidding starts at ten emeralds!" the auctioneer calls, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the sale.

From the front, representatives from House Sardonyx, draped in rich, deep hues, raise their hands confidently. "Twenty emeralds!" one of them declares, a smug smile on their face.

"Thirty!" counters a member of House Peridot, their attire adorned with vibrant greens that match their name. The competition heats up instantly, and the tension in the air becomes palpable.

The auctioneer's voice rises in excitement, "Forty emeralds from House Sardonyx! Do I hear fifty?"

The bidding war escalates, each house determined to claim the griffin for themselves. Amy watches closely, her heart racing. She knows that the stakes are high, and this creature's fate might well be intertwined with their mission.

"Sixty emeralds!" the Sardonyx representative exclaims, their tone dripping with confidence. The crowd murmurs, clearly impressed.

"Seventy!" House Peridot fires back, their representative looking equally determined, eyes glinting with a fierce intensity.

The auctioneer, clad in his extravagant black and gold attire, steps forward with a flourish, his voice smooth and commanding as he addresses Polaris as she approached. "Ah, m'lady, a delight to see you gracing our humble auction with your esteemed presence. It is not every day that we have the honor of such nobility."

He gestures grandly to the various creatures on display, his smile sharp and calculated. "As for your inquiry, we indeed possess a selection worthy of your discerning tastes. While these 'meager beasts' may seem humble, their worth is far greater than their appearance suggests. But I assure you, we have rarities that will captivate even the most refined palate."

He leans in slightly, his tone lowering conspiratorially. "Perhaps I could tempt you with something truly special? A creature of unmatched power and grace-an exotic chimera, perhaps? Or perhaps you seek something... more unique?"

The auctioneer's eyes gleam with a hint of mischief as he sizes up Polaris, gauging her interest. "What say you, my lady? A trade of influence and power awaits those who dare to reach for it." Though his dark eyes focused on Amy as she came up behind Polaris and his grin turned darker.

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy watches John closely as he taps into the power of Nilaa. The shift in him is palpable-the snark fading into something deeper, more attuned to the raw magic that thrums through the land. She feels it too, the pulse of her world, the energy that courses through every crystal and every blade of grass. But seeing John harness it, seeing him let it wash over him and fill him, brings a faint smile to her lips.

<< This place... it's different, isn't it? >> she sends through the mental link, her voice soft but carrying a note of understanding. There's something about Nilaa's magic that calls to anyone with the gift, and John's reaction to it only proves that. She steps closer, the gems in her hands glowing faintly as they respond to the power swirling around them. Her connection to this world is instinctive, innate, and seeing John adapt so quickly fills her with both admiration and a hint of pride.

"I told you Nilaa was special," Amy says aloud, her tone carrying both affection for her homeland and a bit of teasing aimed at John. "It's easy to get swept up in it, though. Don't let it pull you too far in." Her warning is gentle but sincere, a reminder that Nilaa's magic, while alluring, can be overwhelming-especially for someone not born of its land.

She watches as he clenches his fists, snuffing out the crackling energy that had sparked between them, and there's a moment of silence between them before she offers him a nod. "Right then," she agrees, stepping forward with the confidence of a princess on her home soil. Her gaze flickers to the rest of the group, her posture steady, but there's a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

<< Let's find Ypsolis. The sooner we free him, the sooner we can deal with Opal. >> Her thoughts sharpen, her focus returning to the mission. But beneath it all, there's a quiet satisfaction in knowing that John, despite all his grumbling and doubt, is beginning to understand just how powerful Nilaa truly is.

Amy nods as she absorbs Monet's assessment of the situation. The atmosphere in the auction house crackles with tension, a palpable sense of danger hanging heavy in the air. She adjusts her grip on the gems in her hands, feeling their energy pulse in response to the dark forces around them.

<< It seems like the stakes are higher than we anticipated, >> she replies through their mental link, her tone serious yet composed. << If the auctioneer is as powerful as you say, we'll need to tread carefully. We can't afford to draw attention to ourselves. >>

She glances at Monet's equipment, appreciating her readiness for close-quarters combat, but she knows that the best approach will be to stay hidden and strike when the time is right. <>

With a deep breath, Amy straightens her posture, feeling the weight of her royal lineage settle over her like a cloak. << Let's move with purpose. I'll keep the glamour active to mask our identities for as long as possible. If things get dicey, I'll summon a barrier to protect us. >>

She catches Daniel's expression as he scans the surroundings, a mix of determination and skepticism evident in his demeanor. She can sense his wariness-after all, he's right to be cautious in a place like Nilaa. The cobblestone streets and bright sunlight hold an enchanting quality, but beneath it lies the potential for chaos.

Amy Winston has posed:
<> she sends through their mental link, her voice steady and reassuring. << It may feel strange to you, but this land has its own rhythm. We just need to move with it, not against it. >>

She glances down at his clothes, the glamour weaving around him to mask the more Earthly elements of his appearance. << Trust the magic for now; it's working in our favor. Just let the charm do its job while we gather intel. >>

Amy takes a moment to soak in the vibrant atmosphere, the bustling market filled with traders and shoppers. There's an excitement in the air, a sense of possibility that reminds her why she loves Nilaa despite its dangers. <>

She turns her attention back to the street, spotting the auction house in the distance, its grandeur both alluring and intimidating. << Once we're inside, remember to keep your wits about you. We're here for information, not to cause a scene. But if things do go sideways? well, we'll adapt, as always. >>

As Amy strides confidently toward the auction house, Daniel walks beside her, scanning the bustling crowd with a cautious eye. Just as he begins to relax, a small figure darts out from the throng-a street kid, no older than ten, with dirt-smudged cheeks and eyes full of mischief.

Before Daniel can react, the kid bumps into him, feigning a clumsy stumble. "Whoa, sorry!" the child exclaims, wide-eyed and innocent, but there's a flicker of intent in their gaze. The moment Daniel's attention is diverted, the kid's hand shoots out, deftly reaching for the pocket of his coat. "Whoa... what's this staff?" the kid asks. He's found the shotgun.

She steps closer to Diana, her expression a mix of resolve and empathy. "You're right, Diana. Our focus must remain on rescuing Ypsolis. If we lose sight of that, we risk everything."

With a glance toward Mercy, who is nearby, Amy feels a surge of determination. "We cannot allow our emotions to cloud our judgment. There are many creatures here who are suffering, but we must be strategic. If we cause a scene, we could alert the auctioneer and put ourselves-and Ypsolis-in danger."

Amy's grip tightens around the gems in her hands, drawing strength from their energy. "We'll need to be clever and patient. If we can gather enough information and create the right distraction, we might find the opportunity to strike without compromising our mission."

<< Your experiences are invaluable, Vivian, and I deeply appreciate your insights,>> Amy replies through the magical link, her tone steady and encouraging. << You're absolutely right; we must never underestimate anyone in GIRL. Each of us brings unique strengths to this mission. >>

As she gazes up at the vibrant blue sun, a soft smile forms on her lips. "It is indeed different here, but beautiful in its own right," she murmurs, allowing the colors to wash over her. The whimsical landscape of Nilaa fills her with a sense of wonder, contrasting sharply with their serious task ahead.

<> she continues, her expression turning thoughtful. << If we encounter creatures with sentience, we must consider their freedom and rights. It's crucial that we respect all lives, especially in a place so filled with magic.>>

She glances toward Wonder Woman, sharing a knowing look, before addressing Vivian again. << Speaking in English should not raise suspicions, especially if we keep our voices low. Our magical link is a unique advantage; we can communicate without attracting unnecessary attention and I'm sharing a translation spell.>>

Amy watches as Polaris strides forward, her commanding presence radiating strength and determination. There's a blend of admiration and concern in Amy's heart; the weight of their mission presses heavily upon her.

<< Your insight is invaluable, Polaris,>> she replies through the mental link, keeping her voice steady despite the chaos a

John Constantine has posed:
Picking locks? He can open handcuffs with nothing but a paperclip, bust mechanical safes with ease, unlock a cage he's managed to get himself into with a sharp stick if need be. Magical locks fair no better. It's infinitely difficult to keep John Constantine in a cage, or out of one, for long. The question makes him bark an incredulous laugh. "Bit like askin' if Diana's good with a bloody rope innit, luv?" <<Diana and her rope, a staple for every teenage bloke's spank bank>> - yes, that thought goes out loud and clear over the mental link. Apparently his snark hasn't faded - he's just mostly keeping it to himself, using his 'indoor voice' so to speak - or not speak.

It should be noted that his eyes are still glowing - and he might be coming off as just *slightly* manic.

He pulls the Silk he had upon arrival from his lips and tosses it to gemstone cobbles to be snuffed out with the toe of his shoe.

Pockts too, are something he can pick.

Of everyone present, it just might be John that stands out more than the others - it doesn't seem likely that 'Scruffy Noir Detective' is a standard look in these parts.

But John isn't without his own illusional gifts. In fact, it's one of his go-to moves.

A quick scan of the area and he has his 'look' for the evening. Of all the things John Constantine could decide to become - it's a Knight. The illusion is perfect from the top of his head to the tips of his toes - whatever that may entail as a knight of this strange land.

With that signature swagger, minus the hands in his pockets and the slouch, John sets off on his own. When his illusioned standing doesn't clear a path - he barks at people to get out of his way. He just needs to get close enough.

Close enough to circle back to that ability to get into, or out of, just about any cage.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Only move when they have what they're after. THe others are right, and it's time to avoid mission creep. Monet just goes to watch, giving a low nod over to the words of Amethyst, and she moves to mostly stay silent. She's watching for signs of trouble when it comes to thsoe over in the place or individuals that might be vulnerable. She's keeping up passive mind scans of the area. Most of the auctioneers seem rather normal. High society, twisted slime and the norm. She pauses, and then goes to pick up something that she finds almost and slightly amusing, but is passed along anyways.

<<They're keeping an eye out for you>> This is indicative of Amethyst. She's not picking up signs that they immediately know the woman is at the auction, but she's mostly focused on remaining subtle in her scans rather than going deeply. Best to risk not being noticed.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
<<It is just... it is easy to think everything is bright and cool here - like it should be. But it is not. Because Dark Opal and Sardonyx...>> Daniel glares daggers at the House Sardonyx merchants and then...

Pickpockets. Just when one would expect a dragon or an undead knight. It is always the small things. "Kid," he growls, glaring at the street thief. "I left by money bag home, and that is not a staff, it is a... a club. Go away," hopefully the translation spell works nicely. He pulls his sawed-off shotgun back from the child thief. Thankfully this time the safety is on.

<<Someone can blur this kid memories or something?>> He ask through the mental link.

Diana Prince has posed:
Diana's affected appearance has presented her in the form of some manner of farmer. With her lasso nothing more than a mere simple rope bound to her hip, dirtied and the color of sodden earth, Diana glanced to it and showed a small smirk. She glanced over to John, affording him a tilt of her head, apparently having heard his mental commentary on the rope too, though she doesn't fire any topical response back. Instead, Diana moves toward that fateful auction, and tries to stay close to Mercy in particular, since she might be the one here today who is most out of her element. A glance was given to Mercy, but Diana thought she seemed to be taking it in stride, and as Amaya speaks back to her, Diana responds with a simple nod.

It is Polaris, who draws the Princess' attention, watching the emerald haired woman make for a bold march, which left Diana adjusting her weight upon her battle staff (which was now a pitch fork apparently?)

"This should be interesting." Diana softly murmured from her position near the back of the auction audience.

The small boy who spoke a question, having spotted something unusual, did draw Diana's attention, and with it she displayed a small frown. Magical glamors always came with unpredictable side effects, as a gun may look like a stick, but it still had a trigger, even if hidden from the common folks eye.

"Stay sharp, and keep a wit about your personal belongings. Don't let any of them fall from your person, or be snagged by a pickpocket."

Do the people of Gem World pick pockets? If there is currency, and a need for it to sustain one's well being? Then probably, yes.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy seems to be adjusting some but her body language is still a bit different. Her eyes are alert, and the dark orbs glance this way and that. Tracking for any threat or any clue. Often Mercy's nose twitches as she sifts through the scents and clues around her. More then once her ears wiggle as if trying to turn to better catch the faint sounds, be it talons on a cage floor, or something more useful for them.

Mercy's head will lift, as she is on a hunt. The animals are noted but not her primary focus. <<Got something. The scent is coming from deep in the back.>> She unconsciously licks her lips once and reminds herself to stand up straighter and look relaxed and bored. There is another situation as the illusion upon Mercy doesn't seem to want to work 100% right. Shifts in her clothes going from what Amy intended to something more torn, more wild looking. There's a part of her that SOOO is itching to take a proverbial firecracker and toss it at the noble's feet. Just to scatter them and have some fun. She loves a good prank but isn't used to it coming on strong like this. "This gentleman has quiet the stock." Trying to show she's paying attention to those around her. Honestly the presence and familiarity of Diana being close is helping her.

<<Normaly I would ask for cover and try to sneak in to the area for you all. I just am just not sure how well that will work,>> Mercy offers to the others here. Taking a moment to look around. At least with all these other important and powerful people around, maybe people aren't looking at the strange brown woman there. She settle her eyes to Amethyst, <<He's not hurt. I think he's tied up and not in a cage. But don't swear me to that part.>>

Vivian Vision has posed:
The motion from Lorna earns a little nod. Squires follow Knights. Better get in character!

Which means when Dame Lordane, the Viridian makes her most dramatic approach the disguised synthetic follows in her wake. Not the brash stride of the noble. But with the confidence of someone who /serves/ the most mighty. Head up, back straight, she strides forward.

Even when Polaris soars up into the air she follows. Lowering her density, a little help from her flight powers, and it looks like she's walking up an invisible ramp.

Preparation is of course an important thing. And her many cargo pant pockets have a few things she calculated might be of value other than food and water. Including a bag borrowed from GIRL that includes as many perfectly formed industrially formed diamonds as she could find on short notice. To visual inspection they'd look flawless although each no doubt has a serial number etched on it. Will the people of Nilaa take diamonds as currency? She's not entirely sure.

But when diamonds meant for industrial drill bits are what you have. That's what you pack.

<< Your Majesty, uh Amethyst that is, how valuable are these? >> She projects an impression of the artificially created gems. Real in every scientific sense. But the rules of Earth don't really apply here so.. She could be carrying a fortune or something of basically no value. That's why it's important to have lots of pockets.

"All hail Dame Lordane," she calls out. Boosting her density and stamping her foot on the stage with a BOOMING thud. "First amongst all of House Veridian."

Her arm striking across her chest in what she hopes will look like a military salute.

She sweeps her gaze across the audience. Allowing her eyes to glow a little brighter. A challenge in both posture and expression. Making sure to position herself between any guards and Polaris.

Lorna Dane has posed:
-- okay, so--

<< ... they're bidding in fucking emeralds?? >>

Maybe 'peasants' was a bit hasty? -- Maybe it was haughty ENOUGH--?

"Look at me," Polaris commands, doubling down by snapping her hand up and out to block as much of Amethyst as she can from the auctioneer's eyeline.

<< Amaya, who is my Lord-or-Lady? >> she tries to cue, briskly.

"What better to capture the first of her name's eye," her head cants towards Vivian, booming and proclaiming in her wake, "than a steed without peer--?"

<< Good improv-- ... uh, we aren't COOKED now, though, right--? >>

Of the many things Lorna's grateful to Xavier for, a pronounced ability to multi-task - even when it means juggling psychic communication and physical speech - has proven to be if anything more relevant as she's gotten older. Likewise the third pin she adds to her juggling act: casting her perceptions out around them to brush against chains and peer into locks, acclimating herself. This isn't precisely trivial, given the cognitive load involved-- but the added layer of distance in her voice might prove worthwhile:

"Show me that you can sate my desires before worrying about the contents of my coffers," she intones, spreading her arm outwards, inviting.

<< -- Plan B is looking like a lot of - hopefully? - pissed off animals, by the way-- just so we're clear. Metal locks, metal chains, metal cages... >>

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy watches John's incredulous laugh, a flicker of concern passing over her features. << While it's impressive you can pick locks with just about anything, I can't help but worry. Are you adapting well, this place can be overwhelming. We must tread carefully. >>

As he tosses the Silk away, she notices the manic gleam in his eyes and her heart tightens. << The knight look is amusing, but just remember that blending in is key. We're not here to showcase your skills or provoke anyone. >>

When he strides off with that signature swagger, she can't shake the feeling of unease. << John, just... please keep your wits about you. If things get dicey, I want you to stay focused on our mission. Finding Ypsolis is our priority, not just escaping from cages-magical or otherwise. >>

<< You're right, Monet. >> Amythest says as she follows Polaris. << With Dark Opal in charge, I am viewed as a criminal in this world. >>

Amy steps forward, her expression softening as she looks at the child thief, but there's a flicker of steel in her eyes. Through the mental link, her voice carries a regal yet calm authority.

<<No need for that, Daniel. I've got this.>>

She kneels, placing a hand on the child's shoulder, her voice warm and gentle. "It is not wise to steal, little one. Even the smallest wrongs carry weight, and there are kinder ways to get what you need."

She turns her head slightly, addressing the merchants nearby with a nod, her tone shifting to something more commanding.

"And as for House Sardonyx... tell your masters that Nilaa's future does not belong to the shadows they cast. We will not be ruled by fear and greed any longer."

With a swift, graceful motion, she draws a small gem from her pouch, shimmering with a faint glow. "Here," she says softly, offering it to the child. "Go buy yourself something, but remember-there is always a better path."

As she rises, her presence feels as if it radiates an aura of quiet strength. Over the link, she adds, <<We don't need to blur memories. Sometimes, a lesson taught is more powerful than one forgotten.>>

"Yes, quite interesting indeed," she murmurs, echoing Diana's words as she adjusts her posture, standing tall despite the enchanted surroundings that have transformed her royal gear into something more humble. The sensation of her own sword now resembling a simple hoe makes her smirk.

Her eyes, however, remain sharp, scanning the auction crowd with a seasoned vigilance. "Pickpockets? Oh, definitely. The people here may sparkle, but not all shine with honor. Some find... creative ways to make a living."

With John arriving in the back, there are a few workers mucking the cages and getting the animals ready for sell. In one of them is a pair of cat like creatures with fur and feathers, long tusks and wings. They hiss towards John as he arrives, getting the attention of the servants. "Do you need something? Noone's supposed to be back here!"

As Mercy and company head further back with the search... they find what they are looking for in a large metal cage.

Ypsilos, Amy's loyal pegacorn, stands bound beneath the weight of coarse ropes, his majestic form diminished but not broken. His wings, usually spread wide and shimmering with iridescent light, are pinned tightly against his powerful sides, the silken feathers rumpled and dirtied by the bindings. Every muscle in his body strains against the restraint, his proud neck arched high despite the rough rope that coils around his muzzle, stifling his calls to the heavens. His deep, intelligent eyes burn with defiance, their usual glow dimmed but not extinguished.

The pegasus horn atop his brow, radiant and spiraling, pulses faintly with suppressed magic, as if even now Ypsilos is attempting to summon the strength to break free. His hooves stamp the ground restlessly, creating small divots in the earth, while his tail swishes with an agitated grace, betraying the fury and frustration that boils just beneath his noble surface.

Amy Winston has posed:
Despite the bonds, he remains a creature of magnificence-an icon of freedom cruelly caged. The wind seems to whisper around him, as if the very air mourns his capture, and the rope around his muzzle quivers ever so slightly, sensing the barely contained power of the pegacorn, knowing that no restraint could hold him forever.

Amy, still holding herself with the regal bearing of Amethyst, feels Polaris' urgency ripple through their mental link, her violet eyes narrowing slightly as Lorna shields her from view. She felt something all-too familiar when the auctioneer caught her eye.

<<Emeralds? Of course, it would be. Nilaa treasures precious gems, not just as currency but as spell holders. >> Her mental voice is calm, though beneath it, the wheels are turning rapidly.

She adjusts her posture, letting Polaris take the lead, but there's a flicker of a smile on her lips as Lorna's commanding words echo through the auction hall. When the moment comes, Amy steps forward again, just enough to make her presence felt without overshadowing her ally.

<<Lorna, you're nailing it. Lord or Lady? Lady Emerald would be your liege. Choose a green gem of a lower rank as your house. Jade? It's got the right amount of flair, no? >>

As Polaris continues her grand display, Amy allows her hand to drift to the hilt of her disguised sword, her mind already turning to the inevitable need for Plan B. Her voice over the link carries a measured tone of readiness, as if the chaos to come is expected, but she's perfectly prepared for it.

<<Pissed off animals, metal chains... sounds like we're right on track. If it comes to that, I can shatter those locks or call the beasts to our side. Just give the word.>> A pause, her next thought warmer. <<But let's hope we can pull this off without a full-blown stampede. I'd rather not spend the afternoon chasing down irate pegacorns and panicking merchants.>>

She meets Polaris' gaze for a split second, a flicker of mischief dancing in her eyes, then steps back into place, ready to move if needed. In the physical world, she spreads her hand slightly, inviting the attention of the auctioneer, her own regal presence now in full bloom.

The auctioneer holds Polaris' gaze. "And who is the young woman behind you?" he asks, interest in Amethyst growing.

John Constantine has posed:
Once close enough - just close enough - to have a clean line of sight on that pen of mystical horses, John murmurs, "Clavis aperta." Which translates simply to, 'key open'. The words are accompanied by a subtle gesture of his hand mimicking the turn of a key in a lock. It's quickly followed up with, "Vincula solve." - translation: Door open. He follows the words up by a subtle gesture mimicking the turning of a doorknob and then the pulling open of a door. Sometimes magic is just that simple. It doesn't all require flowery words and long incantation. Really John only uses the Latin in this case because it's what is most familiar to him when he's casting. He could have spoken those simple words in any language really, even the Pig version of Latin.

With any luck, if the waves of Synchronicity are on his side in this realm, a whole lot of magical horses will be causing a big distraction and leaving a whole lot of chaos in their bid to escape.

Chaos that John uses to move through the crowd toward 'deep in the back'.

A bit more subtle than Plan B - hopefully giving everyone enough time to converge on the objective of the mission without it falling to out and out war.

Of course he's prepared for that too, perhaps even craving it. The magic coursing through this place, the magic coursing through *him* is intoxicating and giving him an itch that might only be scratched by unleashing it a spectacular fashion.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
This is something of a universal - there are always those living off higher society no matter where it is. Kree, Chandilar.. Well, probably not with the Oans, but as far as Monet is concerned the Oans are the lowest form of existence themselves. SHe just goes to start to move along two to stay close to Diana, thoughtfully sweeping the crowd continuously. Looking for anyone that might be out of place or that might be on alert. As the bidding goes to rise up higher and higher on certain things, Monet turns to Mercy.

It seems like the girl has gotten a clue by her posturing, but Monet goes to turn up to the auctioneer as she uses her slightly enhanced hearing to pick up that Amy is being approached directly. She moves to stay close over to Diana, out of training and experience. Moving to survey the room and continue to keep watch, ready to go in if there are indications that Amy needs backup or that Diana needs a distraction. She keeps a peripheral awareness of John's presence. But she doesn't look too closely at what he's up to. She's read his mind.

Once.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Something in Mercy and at seeing Ypsilos almost snaps. She values freedom rather highly. Seeing the ropes there binding the animal she just needs a..... and John has her covered. A distraction. Perfect! She is good at moving quiet, quick, and low. A hand pulls the knife she had tucked away and advances quickly for the animal. She doesn't want to spook the Pegacorn, but if she can slice the ropes quick it can do a lot to get them out of here before Mercy's 'luck' makes everything go nuts.

Sometimes it's good to be the 'little girl' and skip notice. She's also a lot faster and stronger then many may assume which can help for getting up and around things. She'll softly shhhh to the equine in question, if she gets up toward him. "I'm with your partner." Now how well the pegacorn will respond to her, given her nature, her weapon, and being a stranger seems to be up to fate. <<They got him tied up, and am on the move>> Mercy does her best tend updates and the sensations through the link. There may be more coming through then others are used to. Mercy's 'seeing' the world in scents and ways humans don't normally and more of that is transmitting. Also a sense of giddiness on how she can't wait to either get away with something, or detonate the whole tension bomb.

Diana Prince has posed:
A glance was spared toward Monet, and Mercy, as Diana reacted to the display with the auctioneer. With subtlety in her motion, she pulled her dirty farmer's rope from her right hip, and began to gently wrap one end around the staff of her farmer's fork. She put her eyes back upon the forms of Amethyst, and the others at the front of the gathering, listening to the back and forth of their chatter between one another.

Lastly, Diana regarded the animal cages, and the sight of John meandering about, giving off the air of a random villager, or towns folk, who may have been doing a bit too much drinking last night. Had John done a bit too much drinking last night though? that was anyone's guess.

With her soiled rope fastened around the staff, Diana held the coiled twine up against its shaft, simply standing as though she were a farmer waiting to tie up whatever beast of burden she was planning on purchasing here today.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Daniel smiles faintly when Amy speaks to the little thief. <<So kind...>> that was a stray thought, he clear his throat. <<Well, hope you are right, princess.>> When did he got so cynical himself? Oh yeah, life happened. Life with the Ghost Rider.

He stays close to Amy, perhaps too much like a bodyguard. Someone, for some crazy reasons, knighted him last time he was in Nilaa. Now he gotta do the job no one trained him to do.

And he is worried Lorna's buff is going to be called for soon. She can do magic-like stuff, but to his own mystical senses, she has no magic. Neither does Viv. Now, not all mystics can sense things like he does, and Nilaa is odd in that regard. Still... it makes him extra wary.

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna and Amy meet--

-- not 'eye to eye' exactly, but the spirit's there.

<> the Queen-Knight grouses, affecting air-quotes and dry sarcasm in Astral space like a pro. The effect's a little different for Amy and Vivian, thanks to proximity: the the Stranger and the Squire both get a subtle hint of the restrained but mounting anxiety that her sarcasm's meant to hide, in the face of the suspicious auctioneer.

"Who is she--?" Lorna huffs, standing up a little straighter and raising her free hand. Metal-clad fingers snap and send a clarion note ringing through the auction house.

<< Miss Vision, SFX please-- >>

She takes a deliberate and reverberant step forward, emerald light beginning to shine from the depths of her helmet.

"She is mine," emanates from the armored Queen, rumbling with menace. "Worry not for what is mine; worry about me: Dame Lordane of House Jade, Viridian Knight-- first and only of her name, and sworn blade to Lady Emerald." The butt of her scythe strikes the stage.

"Worry about pleasing me, and through me my Lady--"

hell breaks loose. all of it.

<>

"-- and worry about your goods," she manages to get out, quicker than the rest as she tenses in her armor.

Vivian Vision has posed:
The downside to preparing with situations on short notice? Sometimes you pack something you don't need! But that's the beauty of having lots of pockets. You can overpack.

Vivian rolls her shoulders with idle indifference. Like there's not even the slightest hint of peril or risk being up there beside Lorna. Her enhanced senses scan the surrounding area, gauging distances & angles, possible angles of attack. <> She suggests with amusement. << It might be the ambient energy influencing my decision making. But Plan B does have a certain appeal. >>

Her holographic systems work in ways most typical scientists can't comprehend. To those from a magical realm they'll likely seem quite alien. Magic without magic. But she can bend light and sound to her will with a range sufficient to make a small passenger plane invisible. More than enough to influence the entire venue.

Lorna gets the full cinematic 'Voice of God' treatment. Like she's talking from all around. Like being surrounded by the wrath and fury of a conclave of angry giants. (And no she doesn't make her sound like Morgan Freeman)

Light fills the space. Trumpets blare. She stops slightly short of cherubs flying down with banners.

But only /just/.

There's a little shift to her stance. Expectant of danger.

<< Hopefully we have a Plans C through... R. >>

Amy Winston has posed:
Amethyst feels the subtle shift in the air the moment John's words work their magic. Her connection to Nilaa's innate magic allows her to sense the stirring energies, the unraveling of bonds, as if the very world were holding its breath in anticipation. She knows John's tricks well enough by now-the subtlety behind his show of simplicity, the danger lurking behind that casual demeanor.

<<Well done, Constantine. Let's hope those horses know where to run,>> she sends through their mental link, her own voice calm despite the chaos building.

As the enchanted locks on the pens begin to yield and the mystical horses start to stir, Amy shifts her stance just slightly, preparing for the inevitable break in composure that's about to ripple through the auction. Her eyes flicker with faint violet light as she casts a discreet glance towards the pen, watching the magical beasts grow more restless by the second.

"Quite the offer on the table, wouldn't you agree?" she says aloud, voice carrying over the hum of the auction, as if she's fully invested in the act of bargaining. But beneath her calm exterior, she's watching everything: the guards tightening around the stage, the auctioneer's thinning patience, the horses shifting in their pen. As the pegasi wander out, and into the crowd, there's some cries of panic as the chaos starts. The auctioneer scowls, and gestues to his knights. "Get those creatures under control!" he yells out.

As the knights move to try to wrangle the escaped animals, Amy's aware of Monet's position, her heightened senses tracking the movements of the auctioneer and anyone who might be watching too closely. The ebb and flow of power in the room is palpable, and Amy knows they are walking a thin line between maintaining their cover and triggering the chaos already brewing under the surface.

<<I've got this. But stay sharp, Monet. Things are about to get a little... wild.>> Her voice slips through the mental link, calm but laced with the undercurrent of anticipation. She trusts Monet's judgment, especially when it comes to keeping a close eye on Diana.

<<John, keep that itch in check. Let's not burn down the whole place. Yet.>>

Amy's heart tightens the moment Mercy moves toward Ypsilos. Her bond with the pegacorn is strong, but Ypsilos is still a creature of instinct, and the sight of him bound makes her blood boil. She feels Mercy's determination, the quick movements, and the unusual way her perception of the world spills into the mental link. It's chaotic, but Amy can sense the care behind it-Mercy wants to help.

<<Be careful, Mercy. He'll sense your intentions, but Ypsilos is proud. If you cut those ropes too fast, he might panic.>> Her voice in the link is calm but firm, urging caution while appreciating the quick thinking. She tries to send a sense of calm to Ypsilos through their bond, a gentle nudge of reassurance that help is on the way.

Her eyes, though outwardly fixed on the auctioneer, flick toward the pen where Ypsilos stands. She can almost feel the tension in his muscles, the struggle against the ropes, but if anyone can free him without causing a scene, it's Mercy-quick and unnoticed.

<<I'm with you. Just... steady. Once he's free, he'll know what to do.>>

Even as she keeps up appearances in the auction, Amy's magic begins to hum just beneath the surface, ready to flare if the situation demands it. Ypsilos' freedom is key-everything hinges on that moment.

She pushes a wave of calming energy toward the pegacorn, soothing his spirit. <<Hang in there, Ypsilos. Just a little longer.>>

With John leaving the pens and heading towards Diana and Monet, there is a pair of knights trailing after him, hands on hilts. John passes by the two women and it seems the knights plan to push through as well to continue their pursuit of the wayward knight.

Amy Winston has posed:
Slowly, like a deadly infection, the transformation spreads, warping the sentinel into a twisted, jagged version of itself. Once a guardian of light, it now stands as a harbinger of chaos, its corrupted form casting a long, ominous shadow over the kingdom. And as the group watches, they know this is just the beginning. Dark Opal's magic is reaching further, tainting Nilaa's ancient protectors, threatening the balance of the world itself as they turn their attentions on the market. "Squash this attempted rebellion!" calls out Dark Opal as he draws his sword to slash towards Lorna to give himself some distance between the Queen and him.

Amy Winston has posed:
Amy glances at Daniel, sensing the tension simmering beneath his seemingly relaxed demeanor. She can feel his protective instinct radiating, and it both comforts and concerns her. The weight of his newfound role as her guardian-especially given his previous experiences-brings a flicker of warmth to her heart.

<> Her voice is steady, a blend of encouragement and empathy, as she subtly nudges him to embrace the moment rather than let past cynicism cloud their mission.

<<Fear not, Lorna. You are a force unto yourself, and together we stand stronger!>> Amy projects, her voice steady and fierce, an anchor amidst the brewing storm.

As chaos looms, she draws her sword, its blade shimmering with magic and resolve. "Worry not, good knights and ladies! We will not be bartered like cattle!" Her voice rings out clear, aimed at rallying the onlookers, a beacon amidst the tumult. "This auction is about to meet its reckoning, and we will reclaim our own!"

With that declaration, Amy stands firm beside Lorna, ready to face whatever comes next, her heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and trepidation.

And there is a good reason for that, as the auctioneer's eyes alight in recognition.

As the chaos unfolds, the auctioneer's demeanor shifts, a sly smile curling at the corners of his lips. He raises his hands, calling for silence amid the clamor, his voice smooth and authoritative. The room quiets, the tension palpable as he addresses the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and those who believe themselves to be worthy of our precious goods," he begins, his tone dripping with condescension. "It appears we have a rather? special presence among us."

He steps forward, his true identity emerging from the shadows-Dark Opal, the notorious figure rumored to have ties to the darker elements of Nilaa. The glint of malice in his eyes settles on Amy, recognition dawning with a gleam of twisted admiration.

"Ah, Amethyst! The Lost Princess herself! How delightful it is to finally make your acquaintance." His voice carries a blend of mockery and intrigue, echoing through the hall. "I must admit, I expected to see you in a more... exalted capacity, not attempting to disrupt my little gathering of the elite."

With a flourish, he gestures toward Lorna and the commotion behind them, a sinister grin playing on his lips. "But here you are, leading a merry band of misfits, all clamoring for their freedom. How quaint!"

He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, though his gaze remains sharp and calculating. "Tell me, dear Amethyst, do you truly believe you can reclaim your world with such bravado? Or is this merely a last-ditch effort from a lost princess? You think yourself powerful? Let me show you real power."

Beyond the bustling market, in the farthest corners of the kingdom, four towering Quartz Sentinels stand, silent and watchful. Positioned at the kingdom's borders, these giant crystalline guardians have stood for centuries, their bodies shimmering with light, keeping the ancient magic of Nilaa in balance. Each one gleams in harmony with the rainbow sun, their quartz bodies reflecting the shifting colors, casting protective wards across the land. They are the kingdom's first and final line of defense, impervious to time, their duty eternal.

But now, something is wrong.

As the group's gaze drifts to the horizon, a dark shift ripples through the light. One of the sentinels, far to the north, falters. What was once brilliant and pure quartz begins to dim, its once radiant glow now marred by thin veins of darkness. A malevolent energy, unmistakably the work of Dark Opal, begins to creep through its form. The sentinel's quartz surface cracks and splinters as the darkness takes hold, turning its once glistening body to obsidian-like onyx.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
And then Dark Opal is going to charge forwards, and Monet goes along at high speed. SHe's not sure what the blade is made out of, but she's sure that it's going to be nasty - and fatal. She evaluates Dark Opal. Combat style, how he fights, how strong he is. He's going to prefer close quarters, which makes him dangerous - but limits his options. If he can't effectively engage them, then he has to fall back and willb e vulnerable to attacks at distance. Monet goes to charge forwards, going to slam out from her back her shields and one of the Amazonian spears she had with her.

She goes to yell out a war cry in Themysciran, and then goes to call back to Diana in the same language, "Can you get the animals to charge out now?" They're past the point where they have to be sneaky about it, and tehy might as well go forwards to try and get as many out as they can. Mission creep isn't really an issue now.

Flying at high speed, Monet goes to hit roughly Mach Five, and goes to snap around the bulky Amazon shield in front of it. Well, bulky to someone that does not have strength along the lines of the Themyscirans. She goes to press the shield forwards, bracing it against her shoulder, evaluating the angle of the strike, the amount of power Dark Opal seems to be capable of putting out, the force behind the likely magical blade..

And she goes to try and shoulder slam it! Gemworld weaponry versus Amazonian shields, forged by knowledge to the Amazons given by Hephaestus, guided by training from Artemis and Athena.. Monet is not a true Amazon. She has but been through Hades on Themyscira. And at the Embassy.

But that won't stop her. When facing an enemy that does not know your combat style, there is a small advantage. Monet charges in.. And blade meets block with likely a powerful eruption of KERSLAM!

John Constantine has posed:
<<No, luv, that was me.>> Comes John's reply to Lorna. Is it possible to portray a cocky little half grin and a wink through that mental link - if so, they're both there with his words.

He hasn't survived this long without having eyes in the back of his head, or at least in the figurative sense.

He doesn't *spin* to face his tail of two men. John just simply turns. His eyes flash bright, but now the muted colors dancing within them include inky black tendrils snaking out from his pupils.

"Have you ever had one of those days, mates? The kind where you wish you just bloody well didn't get out of bed that mornin'? No? Well, you're about to."

There is no incantation, there just isn't a need for it. John claps his hands together and the BOOMING sound the gesture causes isn't natural, it rattles walls, stalls, cages and doors - it demands attention. It sends out a rippling wave of energy that fades from a beautiful kaleidoscope of color into a tsunami of black shadows - if shadows hit like a ton of bricks.

Oh, that felt good.

He watches as his handiwork strikes the two knights and then turns to face anyone else that dare challenge him.

He's truly praying someone does, really.

Because that felt so bloody good.

Anyone 'listening in' might be knocked over by the sense - the *feeling* of a John Constantine about to go nuclear powered by the unimaginable magic of Nilaa.

Diana Prince has posed:
With the cover and plan of being stealthy long tossed away, Diana appeared beside where Mercy was working on the ropes that contained Amy's mount, and friend.

the Amazon princess raised a hand up to Ypsilos' face, and gently pressed her fingers to it. she began to speak to the Pegacorn in Themysciran, soft and with care. Diana had a bond with animals, a blessing gifted to her by Athena's grace, and since Themyscira is home to many Unicorns, and Pegasus himself, she has experience with the creatures, even this cousin to them.

Her intent is to calm Ypsilos, and let him know that friends have arrived, and are here to free him.

Once he was freed, Diana glanced toward Mercy. "Can you ride?" She asked, suggesting Mercy take the lead on helping guide the Pegacorn toward safety.

She stepped back, clutching her pitch fork, as she looked toward the horizon for just a moment.

Her eyes shot toward Amethyst, toward Daniel, Vivian and Lorna. "We must go!" She called out. "We did not come here for a full assault on this place." She has to remind everyone.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Either because it was the plan, or because of the word of caution from Amethyst, Mercy doesn't cut the rope as one may expect. She slices and frays it. Weakening the bonds and causing the rope to slack some as the threads fray. Giving the Ypi the slack to get leverage to free HIMSELF. That just feels a bit more right to Mercy. She /may/ also help(or not help) to a loose or fallen 'feather' of the animal as well. If she plucks it and it starts the animal all the better. Sorry, not sorry, as they say.

The big fighting is about to start and standing the front lines is NOT going to be Mercy's best spot. She's not magical, she's not an Amazon. What she /is/ however is slippery and hard to pin down most times. Also she has a gun. That can be a great equalizer at times. Once the ropes are frayed it's time to stow the knife. It is time to get the other animals free if she can. She just wants that chaos and has Diana to pull her back from her mischievous thoughts. "Huh? Oh yeah I can ride. Kanga or equine. Never done wings before though." But no time like the present to learn. Without waiting on permission she gets on the pegacorn's back. "Free yourself. You got the help, but it's up to you earn it. I'll cover your flank. Now are you a knight and a fierce animal. Heart singing with the magic of this land, or are you some weak caged walking weakling waiting to be glue?" Mercy's grin is fierce in a rare showing of bared teeth. Come on you silly boy. Time to GO!

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Dark Opal revealing himself is like a kick in the gut for Daniel. Only it is the Ghost Rider kicking him in the soul. "He was waiting for us. It is a trap..." he does try, even though he knows there is no reasoning with his 'partner'.

Then, he pretty much explodes on flames. Daniel has no time even to scream. Nilaa magical nature makes the transformation faster and easier, and where the young man was standing; now there is a large skeleton on fire, clad in biker leathers and steel spikes and chains.

The mindlink goes down, of course. "Chaos Wroght! Defiler!" The Rider deep bass 'voice' can be heard over the chaos spreading through the marketplace. "This time you shall burn, Dark Opal!"

Then one of the griffins, lands at his side. This is unusual, he usually scares animals, natural or magical. Particularly when angry. But this time...

"Indeed. I see have been greatly wronged, I do accept your service," he tells the beast. And then the griffin burns, and grows and roars, until the majestic lion/eagle becomes a monster of bone and flame with enormous fire wings. The Ghost Rider jumps on its back, and they charge Dark Opal.

A motorcycle just would not do it in Gemworld.

Lorna Dane has posed:
<< Flatterer-- >>

Already taut flirtation collapses under sheer shock when the Princess, just.

She draws her sword, and she steps forward, and she just starts being conspicuously inspiring.

<> barely squeaks through the link, a fluttering mixture of verbal and nonverbal instinct too strong to remain wholly bound. Luckily, she's able to shake it off in time for one reveal to be met with another, leaving her face to face with Dark Opal.

... who immediately commences talking shit to them. Lorna lets out a small, relieved sigh-- sure, this is BAD. Objectively, it's about as bad of an outcome as they could've expected for a quick infiltration/rescue mission--

But this is a familiar breed of asshole, and there's something comforting about that.

Polaris lets him finish with no more than a slight cant of her head, because she's already thinking past the speech. Past the posturing--

Even when he unveils his trump and all but demands she look to it, she greets the startling revelation with a sharp intake of air and little more than a skip in her concentration that triggers soft, humming resonance vibrating through metal in her immediate vicinity.

<< Plan B is go: mind the animals-- >>

Monet charges through just in time to buy Lorna some breathing room. Emerald sparks course from her armor as she pitches backwards at high speeds, her heels gliding just above the stage as she takes the scythe protectively in both hands. Whether or not the polymath's quick thinking is enough to keep her safe on its own, Polaris has Plan B on the brain; maybe it'll make up the gap, if it comes to it.

A great, layered *KLK!* clatters from every lock at once.

Yard after yard of heavy chains heavily fall to the ground in shining heaps.

Metal screams as cage bars are twisted, bent, and wrenched free of their mooring--

<< -- and do we know what that-- THING-- turning black like that MEANS? >>

Plan B erupts in a chorus of wild cries while its gleaming byproducts snap towards Polaris-- towards Dark Opal, streaming together and winding around one another, shattering into countless shards only to compress into long, branching tendrils with green-hot, razor-sharp tips.

<< Is it even safe to leave?! >>

Vivian Vision has posed:
<< This has definitely skipped past Plan B. >> Vivian notes with a glance at Dark Opal. << Your majesties, feel free to focus on the significant threat. I will block any of the lesser minions from intervening. >>

With Princess Amethyst's cover fully blown the synthezoid shifts her density. Becoming a near unstoppable fifty ton mass that threatens to damage the stage itself. "All hail Princess Amethyst. Rightful Ruler of Gemworld! Unbowed and unbroken despite the vile slander of 'Lord' Opal." She bellows. "And I pledge that naught but defeat and ruin will come to her enemies!"

It's hard to say what will threaten the stage first with the magical creatures being unleashed. But be it guard, monster, or corrupted Guardian it'll find Vivian there waiting for it.

The solar gem on her forehead begins to smoulder. Glowing with an inner light that's painful to look at. Energy building. Unnaturally charged with the unusual solar energy from Nilaa. Who knows what effect it might have!

Amy Winston has posed:
Dark Opal stands poised, his presence exuding an unsettling darkness that warps the very air around him. The charge of Monet is swift, like a tempest racing toward its target, but he meets her gaze with a cold, calculating intensity.

As she evaluates him, he feels the weight of her scrutiny. She assesses his combat style, noting the brute force he favors in close quarters, a strength born from his connection to the chaos of magic. Dark Opal knows that she plans to exploit his limitations, to draw him into a dance of strategy and power. But he thrives in the chaos-every strike and movement is a calculated risk, each moment an opportunity for domination.

The war cry she unleashes is a challenge, a call to arms that echoes through the air, and he senses the shift in the battlefield. Animals stirred by Diana will soon break free, adding to the unfolding chaos. Dark Opal relishes the prospect; he feeds off the frenzy, the chaos that ensues in battle.

As Monet launches forward, her speed pushing the boundaries of what is possible, he braces himself. She comes at him with the ferocity of a storm, the Amazonian shield held firmly in front of her, an impenetrable barrier forged by divine craftsmanship.

But he is not one to falter. He charges as well, blade at the ready, its dark magic swirling like a living entity. The moment their forces collide-shield against blade-a powerful eruption resonates through the air, a KERSLAM that shakes the ground beneath them.

In that instant, Dark Opal pushes back, the weight of his dark energy clashing against her strength, testing her resolve. He leans into the blow, not only to withstand the impact but to find his own opening, to strike where she least expects it. The power of his blade is lethal, and he revels in the thrill of combat, the intoxicating dance of dominance and defiance.

The two knights exchange glances, their expressions a mix of irritation and resolve. The atmosphere around them shifts palpably as John's cocky demeanor clashes with the gravity of the situation.

Sir Alaric, the taller of the two, tightens his grip on his sword, feeling the ripple of energy wash over him. "Is this what we've come to, then? Foul magic and flippant remarks?" He steps forward, the polished steel of his armor glinting in the chaotic light, his stance steady and unyielding. "You think your tricks will intimidate us, rogue?"

Beside him, Lady Seraphine narrows her eyes, sensing the shadows coiling around John like hungry serpents. "Your bravado is misplaced, sorcerer. There is strength in unity and honor, things you seem to lack." She raises her shield, the emblem of her house emblazoned boldly upon it, a beacon of courage in the darkening gloom. "We will stand against your darkness, no matter how loud your boasts."

As the echo of John's clap reverberates through the air, Seraphine feels the weight of the incoming shadows. "Alaric!" she calls, her voice steady despite the encroaching chaos. "We'll need to work together! Brace yourself!"They stand shoulder to shoulder, swords and shield ready, determined to face the wave of darkness head-on. Alaric's jaw tightens as he prepares to counter the force bearing down upon them. "We may not have the cunning of a trickster, but we have the heart of warriors. Let him come; we will not falter."

As the shadows crash toward them, the knights hold their ground, ready to deflect whatever dark magic John conjures. They are unwavering, resolute, knowing that even in the face of chaos, their bond as knights and protectors of the realm will guide them through.

Ypsilos feels the warmth of Diana's gentle touch, her fingers brushing against his face like a soothing breeze. Her soft words, laced with the melodic cadence of Themysciran, resonate within him, wrapping around his spirit like a protective cocoon. He senses her kindness and understanding, the bond she shares with creatures of magic and flight.

Amy Winston has posed:
"Princess Amethyst, rightful ruler? Please, spare me the dramatics. You're a relic clinging to the past, and you'll soon find that Gemworld belongs to me."

With a flick of his wrist, shadows ripple outward, merging into a tangible threat that starts to seep toward Vivian, seeking to exploit any chink in her formidable density. "Let's see if your bravado holds up when faced with true power," he taunts, the darkness coiling like a serpent ready to strike.

His gaze flickers toward the solar gem on Vivian's forehead, its glow intensifying. "What a lovely light show you have there. But remember, the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow it casts." He revels in the escalating tension, eager for the clash that is about to unfold.

In the midst of the frenzy, Ypsilos feels the surge of fear ripple through the crowd, a stark contrast to the courage ignited within him. He rears back, sensing the urgency to act, as chaos reigns around him. The once-bustling marketplace is now a sea of frantic movement, all drawn away from the blazing figure that stands as a harbinger of doom.

As Amethyst stands at the forefront of the chaos, her heart races, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Lorna's boldness sparks something within her, stirring a mix of admiration and urgency.

She takes a breath, shaking off the initial shock of facing Dark Opal, who is every bit the arrogant menace she remembers. There's a strange comfort in his familiar bravado, a reminder of the battles they've fought before. But now is not the time to dwell on nostalgia.

"Plan B is go," she echoes in the link, her voice steady despite the turmoil. The resonance from the twisted metal vibrates through the air, a potent reminder of the stakes at hand. "Mind the animals, indeed," she thinks, focusing on the urgency of their mission.

Then the quartz cracks. << It means Dark Opal has tapped into the core of the magic in this area. We need to go! >> she transmits in response to Diana's earlier idea. She's right. She knows she is.

<< John! I need you to hold the line with me! >> With that, Amethyst rips open a portal in the space around her, showing the House of Mystery's living room in the middle of it. << The rest of you, retreat! We'll fight it another time. Ypsilos is tied to me, we can hold here until you're all safely through! >>

Quieter, to Lorna alone, she adds. << Go. I'll see you soon, my Queen.. >> and an emotion unrevealed. Once the others have passed through, she looks to John. "We have to cleanse the ley line!" She can't leave it like this. And John has the power to do it.

Amy Winston has posed:
@emit As she speaks, he relaxes, the tension in his muscles easing. He lowers his head slightly, leaning into her touch, instinctively knowing that she is a friend. The Pegacorn's deep, intelligent eyes shimmer with gratitude and trust, reflecting his appreciation for her calming presence. Ypsilos lets out a soft whinny, a gentle sound that conveys both relief and the eagerness to be free.

When Diana steps back, Ypsilos stands tall, ready to follow the guidance of those who care for him. He shifts his gaze toward Mercy, sensing her determination and strength. With a nod of understanding, he prepares to move alongside her, ready to flee to safety.

Ypsilos feels the gentle fraying of the ropes, the pressure lifting as Mercy weakens his bonds. There's a spark of determination igniting within him, fueled by her fierce words and the unwavering spirit she exudes. He shifts his weight, testing the newfound slack, and the thrill of possibility courses through him.

As she speaks, his heart races with excitement. The challenge in her voice resonates deeply, urging him to break free from his constraints. He lets out a soft, eager whinny, the sound echoing with a sense of purpose. He is no weakling; he is a creature of magic, strength, and noble spirit. The bond of friendship that surrounds him now fills him with renewed vigor.

When Mercy climbs onto his back, he feels her confidence and determination. It's infectious, and he snorts in affirmation, ready to embrace the call to action. "I am no mere captive!" he seems to declare, his spirit rising in response to her challenge. "I am a knight of the skies, a protector of my friends!"

With a powerful thrust of his legs, Ypsilos surges upward, shaking off the last remnants of the ropes as they fall away. He spreads his wings wide, catching the air with a resounding flap, ready to soar.

Ghost Rider rides forth, his griffin roaring like a demon unleashed. The ground trembles beneath the weight of his presence, the heat radiating from him distorting the air. The flaming skull of his head glows fiercely, its eyes burning with an otherworldly fire that pierces the hearts of those who gaze upon him.

A collective gasp rises from the crowd, quickly morphing into a chorus of panic. Merchants abandon their stalls, goods spilling to the ground as they scramble for safety. Shrieks of terror echo through the streets, drowning out the vibrant sounds of the marketplace. Families clutch their children close, eyes darting in every direction as they seek escape from the looming horror.

People push and shove, desperate to flee, tripping over cobblestones adorned with shimmering gems. The chaos escalates as knights and magicians, once so confident, now hesitate, their bravado evaporating in the face of this fiery specter. Banners flutter wildly in the wind, casting eerie shadows that seem to dance alongside the growing panic.

Dark Opal's lips curl into a smirk, a blend of amusement and contempt as he regards Vivian's grandstanding. "Oh, how adorable!" he calls out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "A little synthetic puppet playing hero. It's almost touching, really. But let's not forget-this stage will be your grave, Lady Amethyst."

He surveys the chaos unfolding around him, the heavy chains clattering to the ground and the creatures stirring, a delightful cacophony of pandemonium. "You think you can block me with that? How quaint." Dark Opal's eyes shimmer with dark energy, the inky blackness swirling within them. He can feel the power radiating from Vivian, and it both intrigues and annoys him.

As the tension thickens, he gestures dismissively toward Amethyst and her allies.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
She's not going to disengage when facing a highly dangerous enemy in melee range. If she runs, she gets stabbed in the back. If she flies backwards with the shield, she risks being slammed from behind. The casters can't necessarily risk blasting him when it comes to her being in the way, and all of the magic charging up is a bad thing. The two fighters are feeling one another out, and Dark Opal is casually discarding the chains slammed around him. Monet needs to do something quickly so she canjoin the rest in the retreat without being cut down. The shield can take hits, but that's no guarantee it can take magic.

Now Monet goes to switch out to hold her shield one handed, and moves to snap out the Themysciran spear. The type used for braced anti-cavalry charges. Dark Opal's helm has eyeslits, even if there's nothing beneath it.. So she falls back as his blade strikes, usin the shield to once more deflect it as the others move to disengage under the chaos and add to it.

Then she snaps out with the spear, using the greater range of it and goes to try and strike him with the blade right between the eyeslits. If there's a humanoid in it, even protected by potent magics there will still be an instinctive necessity to block and fall back from a blade hitting in the eye. Even if he's completely invulnerable, hopefully there's still that sense of self preservation that nothing can quite drill out. Even if the blade doesn't strike true and just hits his helm near there. She taunts him, "We all must DIE sometime" as she attacks.

Monet goes to then hopefully take this as a way to cover her own disengagement and falls back to help form a defensive barrier iwth the others if they need it, interposing sword and spear between herself and other attackers as she moves to throw out at him once more, "And I've got better things to do tonight!" She hopefully gets in her quick strike at full power with about ten tons of strength and a magical spear, and then is fallen back to join with the rest so they can bug out while there's chaos and hopefully he's stunned to add to it.

John Constantine has posed:
Leave? Why would anyone want to leave?

So. Much. Power.

Lesser men than John Constantine have been lured and corrupted by power unimaginable. At least John's mind is working overtime in regards to all the ways this crazy amount of magic could help him in his fight against the darkness and not how he could use it to conquer worlds?

And he's not so lost in it that he doesn't recognize the shift in the situation.

Bollocks.

It's difficult to shift gears so quickly - there's always a risk of killing the engine. But, as with the Knights he's facing, John is made of sterner stuff than that. Everything fades away, the sounds of battle all around him, the Knights poised to attack given the chance - it all fades. For just a beat, just a breadth of time, it all fades.

When he opens his eyes once more, the inky black tendrils are gone. Left in their wake is only the blindingly bright colors of the three remaining pillars. Will the Knights notice the change?

"You bloody well heard her! Hold the fuckin' line!" he bellows at them. "If you want *that*," he points toward the fallen Pillar, "...fixed, we have to make it out of here, survive to come back, ey?! Go!"

If they listen, they listen - should they attack him? He'll fight back, defensively. If he's simply granted his leave - he does so.

In this world of unlimited magic, a magus needs nothing but thought to decide his direction. In a blink, he's beside Amethyst. And that little, petty dabbler from Liverpool - a man both blessed and cursed by his bloodline is fully charged with everything that's *good* about this place and ready to rumble.

The swirling purple mists that mark the portal to the House of Mystery beckons and promises safety. None not meant to go through will pass.

"Go, Amy!" Will she listen? Probably not. Regardless, it begins. The sheer force of the magic coursing through him lifts the Laughing Magician from the ground. The light from his eyes at the height of it could likely blind anyone looking into them.

His back bows inward. His arms, out stretched to his sides tense, fingers spay. The very power that the Dark Opal seeks to destroy runs through him - so much power. He throws every bit of that power back into the land, back into the ley lines like so much the magical transfusion - or perhaps dialysis would be a better term? Out with the bad, in with the good.

How long can he keep it up, as long as he needs to or until it ends him for good.

Diana Prince has posed:
With Ypsilos and Mercy taking flight to flee, Diana turned to view the other creatures breaking from their cages. She watched Daniel's gryphon turn to flame beneath him, and watched Lorna controlling the metal fragments of the broken bonds. She twirled her pitchfork around, before removing her sullied rope from its staff. When that dirt encrusted rope suddenly twirled loose, and shifted from a state of inert, in to a glowing golden beam of pure divine light, the glamor that covered Wonder Woman fell away, the truth revealed. She lunged forward, straight toward Dark Opal, where he was engaged with Monet.

Her lasso spun rapidly, ready to engage the Dark Prince, but instead of taking the moment to ensnare him, to possibly discover his greatest weakness as she had done to Galactis, Diana is instead wrappping the lasso around that of Monet, ensnaring her ally in the unbreakable bonds of the Lasso of Hestia.

It was a split decision, one born out of the desire to keep her friend from falling to this foe, which she knows is far more experienced in the combat arts than Monet is yet capable of facing. Though the French woman has the spirit of a thousand warriors, she still has the experience of only one person who has trained for a handful of years yet.

Diana lands beside Monet, just in time to take her from any reactive blow from the Dark Lord. She gave one solid glancing spin kick toward Opal, not necessarily meant to drop him, but to cause him to react in defensive fashion.

Following through with it, Diana planted her strong legs to the floor of the chaotic auction house, and with a powerful burst from her toned thighs, the Princess of Themyscira thrust herself in to the air, with Monet in tow!

In one sweeping motion, Diana gracefully sent Monet to the back of Ypsilos, behind Mercy.

"Protect each other!" Wonder Woman called out, as she leapt in an arch out of the action of the auction hall.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
Reasonable heroes have decided to retreat, but the Ghost Rider is not reasonable, nor a hero. He is, in some regards, a simpler creature than a human being. He has a task, he has a goal, he goes forward relentlessly, with no fear and no remorse.

That is why the Spirits of Vengeance are bound to humans, to have restraint and foresight. But right now, he is not listening to Daniel, because Dark Opal is not just a sinner. He is something that shouldn't exist. It makes the Rider even angrier than usual.

Reasonable people won't stand on the way of the Ghost Rider either. Most knights and even magicians, turn their back and flee as the skeleton griffin and the spectre on it comes charging, those who don't are swept aside by burning chains and fiery claws.

Vivian Vision has posed:
Hair, clothing, skin. There's nothing soft at all about Vivian's enhanced density. The only 'delicate' items? The things in her pockets. Of course that doesn't mean she's going to idly stand there letting shadows claw at her!

Her holographic systems shift. All that energy she was using to illuminate the room focused around herself. Wrapping herself in, sadly entirely non-magical, photons. It might not help her but it certainly isn't going to hurt either. "A relic? I bet you don't even have a fax machine." Look she might be good at a lot of things. But trash talk during fighting is not one of them. "As for this? Who said anything about light." She cranks her density up even further. Sixty tons now. So heavy she's like a, ponderously, walking diamond. "What happens to the shadows if I apply microwave amplification by stimulated emission of radiation?" Her head tilts to one side. "More commonly known. As a maser."

Her announcement loud enough to carry for the Matriarch of Magnetism to hear. Her motions deliberate. Crushing weight smashing the ground beneath her. Drawing as much ire as possible.

PHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

Every last drop of energy she can emit. Converted to invisible waves of energy and focused into a beam. Unprotected flammable material will char and burn. Water molecules will agitate. If she didn't know from Amethyst just how /dangerous/ Dark Opal was she wouldn't even consider such a technique. It could literally cook someone from the inside out.

But he's kind of a jerk. And no-one is going to threaten her friend without tasting her ire. "Welcome to the God Damn Future."

Lorna Dane has posed:
<< Seriously?!" rings between worlds, the armored Queen whipping her head towards Amethyst and letting her concentration falter: the resilient, branching metal spikes she's assaulting Dark Opal with slow considerably; the segments sheared away by his blade or dark power regrow at a snail's pace. The helmet splits open along its crossed gashes, allowing Amethyst to see the burning, wide-eyed protest. "Amaya--"

Lorna falters, lips parted. Something unnamed, unrevealed, unpacked burns hot violet in the back of her psyche.

And now John is doubling down, trying to push EVERYONE out to play Titanic Captain-- exploding with raw magical power so undeniable that she can't even look at him as he rises towards the ceiling.

~*~

"I'm with you," Lorna whispers to broken and trembling Princess in her arms, on the floor of her shower at the Embassy, "even when I'm not with you...

"And I'm sorry that I wasn't with you.

"To fuck that demon up for daring to hurt my Princess..."

~*~

<< ... I can't-- not yet, I-- >>

It doesn't HELP that Lorna feels raw microwave heat radiating from the base of her spine outwards, all of a sudden.

That what's left of her lethal metallic sculpture's ringing in harmonious sync with every other scrap of metal in the hall as unnatural-natural power flows through her body and draws her into the air, mirroring John's eldritch ascent.

It would be hard enough to just leave someone she's grown deeply, shockingly close to in a short span of time in Princess Amethyst without Vivian choosing right now to give Dark Opal a lesson in elementary physics. As it is...?

"If you survive this--" she intones, laden with static-- and TENSING into a deep, wrenching grunt when swift, last-moment readjustment plants her directly opposite Vivian, ready to receive a donation of microwave heat with open arms. Wide, wide open arms jerking all the way out to her sides as impact explodes that grunt into a SCREAM. Her body's adapted to channel electromagnetic forces, to contain them--

... but she's still human in the ways that count, including the fragility of her flesh. It isn't the heat coursing around Polaris and coalescing into a throbbing emerald heat-haze that's the problem, not inherently--

It's the scale of the Vivid Vessel's onslaught that tests the limits of her body and strength of her will. The sheer magnitude of energy pouring from the solar gem could pop enough corn to fill the hall dozens of times over, and whatever isn't absorbed by Dark Opal's body sinks right into Lorna.

"--... then do me the courtesy of remembering it when you think of crossing House Amethyst ever again--!"

Arms drawn back nearly to the breaking point thrust forward and a soundless explosion ripples through the air. Focused microwaves amplified and rechanneled, reinforced with enough of Polaris' electromagnetic touch to render them a brilliantly, unmistakably green column of burning rage searing towards Dark Opal in the hopes of bathing him in her wrath and purifying Nilaa in its fire.

... or buying them all enough time and space to quell disaster and leave-- TOGETHER.

Set against her glowing rage, the Queen-Knight is a darkly gleaming spec amidst a rending wave of destruction.

Amy Winston has posed:
Dark Opal's expression twists into a mix of amusement and irritation as Monet maneuvers with precision, her spear striking with intent. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating with dark energy. "Oh, sweet girl, do you really think you can land a hit on me?"

As she lunges, aiming for his eyeslits, he deftly pivots, the blade of his weapon meeting her spear with a resounding clash. The impact sends a shockwave through the air, but he maintains his ground, seemingly unfazed. "You're going to need more than a little pointy stick to make me flinch," he taunts, his voice dripping with condescension.

Yet, even as he dismisses her efforts, he can't help but appreciate the fire in her attack. There's a thrill to the challenge, an exhilarating rush that ignites his darker instincts. He shifts his weight, ready to counter, but Monet's quick thinking forces him to react-her spear grazing the helm's edge, barely missing its target but sending a jolt of surprise through him.

"Now, now," he retorts, his voice low and menacing, "it's not very polite to threaten death in such a charming way. You may find the experience far less appealing than you imagine."

As she falls back to regroup with her allies, he watches, the shadows around him thickening as he prepares to unleash a counterattack. "Run while you can, but remember, I'm not the kind to let my prey escape so easily."

As the chaotic energy of the battlefield swirls around her, Amy feels a surge of determination. She glances at John, his commanding presence a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil.

With her sword raised high, she channels her own magic, the familiar hum of energy coursing through her veins. The vivid colors of the remaining pillars illuminate her resolve, and she turns to the knights, a fierce glint in her eyes.

"Fight alongside us! We are stronger together, and we can't let Dark Opal take control!"

She readies herself, poised to protect those around her, hoping the rallying cry resonates with her companions. The chaotic battlefield ignites a fierce spirit within her, pushing her forward, ready to join John in this dance of magic and might.

"Let's show them what we're made of!" she declares, her heart racing with adrenaline.

Of course she's not leaving John here.

The house is a fickle bitch and would never let her live it down. And she is not going to piss off the house.

Dark Opal's laughter echoed through the chaos, a low and mocking sound that cut through the din of battle. He sidestepped Diana's kick with a fluid motion, his gaze narrowing as he watched her interactions with Monet.

"You think to shield her with the power of friendship, Princess?" he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "A commendable effort, but futile against the tides of destiny."

Amy Winston has posed:
As Diana launched Monet toward Ypsilos, Dark Opal's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "What a splendid display of loyalty! But you mistake your heart for strength. Emotions will not save you from the inevitable."

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a swirling mass of shadowy energy, ready to counterattack as he unleashes it at Diana. "You all cling to hope as if it were a shield, but the darkness is far stronger than your bonds. Your efforts are admirable, but ultimately, they will lead you to ruin."

Dark Opal's eyes gleamed with a mixture of intrigue and amusement as he witnessed the Ghost Rider's relentless advance. "Ah, the embodiment of wrath itself," he mused, his voice low and mocking. "You think yourself a force of nature, but all you bring is chaos-a fitting reflection of your own inner torment."

As the Rider barreled forward, Dark Opal felt the heat radiating from him, an inferno that could incinerate lesser beings. "But even the fiercest flames can be extinguished," he taunted, his sword shimmering with dark energy. He turned, feigning a casual grace as he aimed a swift, precise strike at Daniel, the blade slicing through the air with lethal intent.

"Your noble intent is commendable, but it blinds you to the truth," he hissed as the blade found its mark, leaving a deep wound that would sap Daniel's strength. "You stand in the path of true power, and in your arrogance, you will find only despair."

He gestured dismissively at the chaos unfolding around him, the retreat of the knights and the frenetic energy of the Ghost Rider. "Your heroes run, and you cling to the illusion of strength. But you will learn that I am not merely a sinner-I am the darkness that consumes all light."

With a flick of his wrist, Dark Opal summoned shadows to engulf Daniel, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Let the spirits of vengeance come for me; they will find only ashes in their wake."

Dark Opal's expression shifted from amusement to irritation as Vivian ramped up her density, the ground trembling beneath her formidable weight. "A maser, you say?" he replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "How quaint. Yet, in your arrogance, you presume that technology can best magic."

As the energy began to build within her, Dark Opal could sense the raw power coiling like a predator ready to strike. He smirked, a glimmer of dark delight flickering in his eyes. "But tell me, what is the future to a being forged in shadows? You may have your toys, but I wield forces you cannot begin to comprehend."

With a wave of his hand, he summoned tendrils of darkness to twist and dance around him, absorbing the energy radiating from Vivian's impending assault. "Your little light show is impressive, but I am darkness incarnate. You think to burn me from the inside out? I welcome the challenge."

As the invisible waves of energy shot forth, Dark Opal braced himself, a dark shield forming around him in response. The air crackled with tension, and as the energy collided with his defenses, he felt the impact resonate through him, a testament to her power.

"Welcome to the God Damn Future?" he echoed mockingly. "You have no idea what lies ahead. But I assure you, this future will be filled with your worst nightmares." He unleashed a counterattack, dark energy coalescing into a swirling mass aimed directly at Vivian, seeking to envelop her in shadows and extinguish the light she so boldly wielded.

Ypsolis soared through the chaos of the auction house, her wings a blur of iridescent feathers glinting in the tumultuous light. With Mercy and Monet securely perched on his back, the three of them cut through the frantic energy surrounding them.

Amy Winston has posed:
The air crackled with magic and danger, but Ypsolis remained focused, his instincts sharp as he navigated the shifting tides of battle.

As they approached the threshold, Ypsolis flared his wings, creating a gust of wind that scattered debris and disoriented nearby foes. The portal pulsed with energy, a doorway to escape from the impending doom. With a final, powerful flap, Ypsolis lunged forward, and in a brilliant flash of light, the trio vanished into the swirling depths of the portal.

Dark Opal's dark laughter echoed through the chaos, a chilling counterpoint to the burning fury surrounding him. The violet energy coiling around Lorna was intoxicating, but he felt no fear. Instead, he embraced the challenge, relishing the anticipation of what was to come.

"How noble of you," he taunted, his voice a low growl, "to risk everything for your precious Princess Amethyst. But do you truly think you can save her by wielding such crude power? This dance is mine, and you are but a fleeting note in my symphony of darkness!"

As the green column of microwaves surged toward him, Dark Opal summoned his own power, weaving shadows to form a barrier. The air crackled and twisted as he absorbed the energy, drawing it into himself, transforming it into a dark well of strength. The searing heat might burn a lesser foe, but he thrived in chaos, and the intensity invigorated him.

"You mistake passion for strength," he sneered, his eyes narrowing as he met Lorna's fiery glare. "You wish to purify? To cleanse? You forget that I am not merely a demon, but a force of nature! Your magic may be bright, but it is no match for the darkness that feeds me!"

With a swift motion, he redirected the energy back at her, unleashing a wave of shadowy power that met her assault head-on. The clash of light and dark resonated through the hall, a violent symphony that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of reality.

"Let us see whose will is stronger, my dear Queen," he spat, his voice a venomous whisper amidst the chaos. "If you wish to fight for Amethyst, then let us play this game until the bitter end."

The air hummed with a raw energy as John Constantine stood at the heart of the chaos, the ley line beneath him pulsing with vibrant life. With a final surge of will, he thrust his hands forward, channeling every ounce of magic into the cleansing process. The ground shook violently as the dark onyx shattered, sending shards flying in every direction. A radiant light erupted from the ley line, illuminating the auction hall in brilliant hues, banishing the shadows that had gathered.

As the echoes of John's magic reverberated through the space, Amethyst felt the shift. The weight of Dark Opal's malevolence began to lift, but a different, more insidious threat loomed. She glanced toward the dark figure, sensing his intent to prolong the battle and grow even stronger.

"Everyone, we need to go, now!" Amethyst called out, urgency lacing her voice. Her magic flared to life around her, shimmering with hues of violet and gold as she began to weave a protective spell. Tendrils of energy surged from her fingertips, her determination evident as she directed them toward her allies.

"He's only going to get more powerful if we stay!" Her heart raced, not just from the fight but from the fear of losing those she had grown to care for. She could sense the danger lingering, ready to ignite if they lingered too long.

With a swift motion, she gestured toward the portal, opening wide and beckoning with an ethereal glow. "Into the portal! We can't give him the chance to regroup!"

As the others rallied, Amethyst's magic enveloped them, gently herding them toward the escape route. The urgency of the moment clashed with the deep-seated dread of facing Dark Opal again, but she knew this was their only chance. Together, they would fight another day-when she was ready.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
She's well aware that she's outmatched, but the point is to try and hold off her enemy. Her attack is deflected, but the point was mostly to give herself a bit of maneuvering room for her own retreat. The shield is rather wide - moreso than a normal one would be. It's almost a tower shield in it's scale. For Monet, that is a much greater margin of safety when it comes to defending herself as strikes from the counterattack go to deflect off it, even as she would quickly withdraw. Her own overestimation of her skills and her immense underestimation of her enemy's is an indication that should the fight go on, weapons or not, neither would her life. But it's given a few extra seconds for her to brace for impact..

Right over as the lasso goes to snap out through the air yanks over onto her, reeling her back over to the Pegasus as Monet goes to speak, a little frazzled at the sudden battlefield maneuvering and she speaks over in Themysciran quickly, "Yes Princess, forgive me." The spirit was more than the body. She has far, far more to learn. She will never be remotely as skilled a combatant as Dark Opal - nor any of the other truly veteran and cunning fighters. So the correction is taken even as she reorients herself over on the blazing steed.

As Dark Opal continues on, Monet gives him a glower and then goes to snap back at him in rapidfire French, then switching over to Arabic, to Mandarin, then to Russian. The phrases are all so varied in pitch and tone thanks to the disparate languages of different origins to make out exactly what her intent is and what exactly she's throwing at him. Is she taunting him that he taunts too much? Is she stating her appreciation of the compliments he had given her? Is she stating that next time he will be the prey and she the hunter?

The quick switches make it perhaps impossible to tell whether it is a threat, a taunt, a congratulatory.. or something else. In the end, only those who had the scrying ot know All Languages would be able to grasp at as she would move to a protective positioning over on the flying horse, ready to backup Mercy.

And then the group of spellcasters and Polaris are going to make some kind of magnetic, vorpal, and magical superweapon taking up the charges of all the energies in the room, whatever the entropy that John is making with existence, and then being thrown along concentrating on Polaris like a Tesla Coil and Amethyst, blasting out in a searing energy over at Opal.

Then they -have- to geto ut. Things are shifting far too quickly for Monet to keep up with what exactly the changing tactical situation is. But she does get the emotional resonance of a full on FUBAR combat scenario. It's time to bug out. And so she does, with the rest of the group.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
This whole time Mercy has done her best to fire a shot when it was safe to do so and not hit a friendly. But mostly she's been keeping her head down and also try to keep a handle on how she feels. All this magic and all these feelings and urges. It has not been 'easy' as one may say. She will cling tight until she and the others should get home.

John Constantine has posed:
Shutting it off wasn't as easy as turning a faucet.

He had to shut *himself* off, throw up a wall between himself and the magic pouring in through the spigot he'd opened.

If John had a dime for every time he was dropped to his knees, gasping for breath, sweating and just about as weak as a kitten after burning through the magic like water? Well, he'd have a hole lot of dimes - probably some stock in the Gallaher Group to boot.

Bollocks.

That was *not* pleasant.

But see, even on his knees and yet unable to stand, even as he digs for the cigarettes and lighter in his pocket, even as he lights up and takes that first long needy drag? No one needed to be so concerned.

Because all he needs do is manage to stumble a few feet forward and right into the waiting swirling purple portal to his own Home.

Did the others wind up there? If not, they may not even know if he's home safe and sound or lying dead on a fainting couch in the sitting room that was probably stolen from an Addams Family set.

Diana Prince has posed:
When Diana landed, after slinging Monet on to the Pegacorn, she turned to find the dark magic from Opal rushing toward her, like a wave of black mist. Her hands came up, the lasso of Hestia tied once more to the staff of her spear. She began to swirl the spear in a rapidly ever increasing twirl, creating a blinding shield of Goddess light.

The golden light pushed back against the dark energy, keeping it at-bay, as Diana continued to move, and react to the power that was trying to engulf her.

Dancing from it, the spear was swung to the side, tucked up against the Princess' right side, its jagged blade aimed down toward the sparkling cobblestones of the gem encrusted path beneath her armored boots.

Diana's eyes stared toward Opal, as the others faced similar threats, but with Amethyst pushing for the fall back, Diana leapt in to the air again, and on the aided wings of Amy's own magical forces, Wonder Woman was swiftly ushered toward the swirling purple portal, passing only through it after the others found their way too.

Daniel Ketch has posed:
The path clear towards the dark wizard, the Ghost Rider whirls his chains and breathes hellfire to scorch Dark Opal's soul before breaking his body. But the flames seem to be absorbed by the darkness, and what little reaches the sorcerer seems to have no effect.

"No! Vengeance will not be denied!" He roars, the chains rushing forward to attempt to snare Dark Opal's limbs and neck, but the sorcerer's sword is faster and shears through the chains, the hellfire itself and sinks on the Rider's chest, where his heart would be, then sweeps aside, cutting through his ribs and left arm as if they were just leather and bone.

The Ghost Rider bleeds fire as he barely hangs on the fiery griffin as it takes him past Dark Opal, flailing weakly with his right arm. That was no mere sword strike, for those attuned to magic, that was a clash of fundamental forces, raw Chaos against the Empyreal Flame, and Dark Opal was stronger.

It is a very normal and very scared griffon carrying a shocked and hurting Daniel that makes to the gate, the Ghost Rider forced to retreat into the Void just moments before his destruction.

Vivian Vision has posed:
The photons, pulled tightly against Vivian's form, flicker. Stutter. And then blink out entirely. Revealing features contorted into a snarl. At least for a moment then, thanks to the ambient heat from Lorna's green energy wave, the bottles of water she was carrying explode into clouds of steam that gush from her pockets. The food packets ignite with short lived smoking flames.

Okay so maybe overpacking isn't always great.

Those shadows envelop her utterly. Darkness drowning out the glow from her eyes. Sparks fly as they scrape and scratch. Screeching like nails on a chalk board. Sending up showers of sparks. Slowly but surely the inky black outline bends. Lowering ponderously. Like the figure it's assaulting has dropped to one knee.

"Tell that to someone who dreams," She retorts from inside the void. Hands punching into the ground, hauling up a chunk of floor, and hurling it. If Dark Opal is proof against masers then, chances are, he's probably not going to be all that put out by a rather large chunk of masonry. But it's all she can think of to buy people time.

The portal. They /win/ if everyone gets away with Ypsilos.

With the magic gone at least logic has returned. Why fight harder when you can fight like a GIRL? You can't damage what doesn't exist. Her phasing shifts in the blink of an eye. From all of the density to none of it. And sinks through the floor leaving the ruined contents of her pockets behind. Can the shadow magic travel through solid earth?

Lets hope not.

Even if it can lowering her density allows rapid motion. Falling back to the escape route at her full flight speed. Clothing ripped, lines carved into her skin, and one hand wrapped around her waist like she's protecting some more significant damage. <>

That is, for those with all-speak, synthezoid for OUCH.

Lorna Dane has posed:
"I don't play with garbage, Opal-- you think you're a force of nature--? That there's something UNIQUE about YOUR greed, YOUR ambition, YOUR malice--"

Polaris is only human.

Polaris can only fuel herself on the destructive loop of ambient energy and cascading electrons for so long.

"I was a goddamned superhero before I could DRIVE-- there's a THOUSAND of you--!"

And Opal has magic in his veins.

Magic bleeding from the land itself to feed him, oozing down his chin and saturating his spirit.

Beneath the parted helmet, sweat curtains down Lorna's face and blood begins trickling from her left nostril. Armored limbs tremble; armored boots grind backwards, cutting shallow trenches into the stage as opposing force threatens to overwhelm--

The Matriarch of Magnetism swallows thickly. She takes the biggest breath she can marshal and fixes a razor-eyed glare on Opal. The fire's absent from her voice, leaving rigid, steel-clad cold in its place:

"You're common," drips with disdain, clear as bell in his ear and resonating from whatever metal happens to be on his person, "and I suggest-- enjoying this while it--"

The Queen hitches when every muscle in her body clenches like a burning fist clobbering her from the inside, and the wave of darkness inches closer, threatening to drive her to a knee. Just as she forces herself properly upright-- just as she sends a fresh, green pulse winding down her waning stream of microwave heat--

-- amethyst magic snatches her out of giving all the way in to bad habits and jerks her through the portal while bands of radiant heat curl erratically from her fingers for a second or two, cooling just before she hits the portal threshold and takes a backwards tumble along the Carpet of Mystery that leaves her sprawled, panting, rumbling in raw, unsated frustration-- and straining to do much more than attempt to sit upright, now that she's been forced into an alternative.

Amy Winston has posed:
As the last of their group surged toward the portal, the air crackled with tension and fading echoes of battle. Amethyst stood at the threshold, her heart pounding as she felt the power of her magic mingling with the renewed energy of the ley line beneath her feet. The radiant light pulsed around them, a protective barrier against the encroaching darkness of Dark Opal.

"Go!" Amethyst urged, her voice unwavering as she turned back to the portal, its glow inviting yet urgent. The faces of her friends-Lorna, Monet, and the others-reflected a mix of determination and relief as they stepped closer, ready to escape the battlefield.

As the last of the knights and allies rushed through the shimmering threshold, Amethyst felt a swell of emotions: fear, resolve, and an unyielding hope for what lay ahead. She was not yet ready to face Dark Opal again, but she knew she would be. With her friends beside her, she would find the strength to confront the darkness that threatened their world.

With one last glance at the chaotic remnants of the auction hall, she stepped through the portal, feeling the warmth of light envelop her. The world around them shifted, a whirlwind of colors and energy, and in that moment, she knew they would return-stronger, united, and determined to reclaim their destiny.

As the portal closed behind them, the echoes of battle faded, leaving only the promise of new beginnings and the strength of their bonds to guide them forward.

------

Dark Opal stood amidst the ruins of the auction hall, the air thick with the remnants of battle and the tang of magic that lingered like smoke. He clenched his fists, feeling the lingering pulse of power that had surged through him, now dimming with each passing moment. The portal's radiant light flickered and then vanished, leaving only the darkness of the hall and the silence of his triumph.

His piercing gaze swept across the shattered remnants of the ley line, the once-mighty onyx now reduced to fragments at his feet. A growl of frustration escaped him, echoing in the stillness. He had tasted victory, yet it slipped through his fingers like sand, the very essence of the energy he sought to harness now a mere whisper.

The absence of his adversaries hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, he felt the weight of their escape as a palpable ache in his chest. They had evaded him, not just physically but in spirit, retreating to regroup and strengthen their resolve. He could sense their determination, their unity-an ember that would ignite into a blaze when they returned.

With a flick of his wrist, Dark Opal conjured shadows around him, the tendrils swirling with dark energy. "You think you can run?" he spat, his voice a low rumble filled with menace. "You've only postponed the inevitable."

As the shadows coiled at his command, he felt the anger and frustration morph into a focused intensity. This was not the end; it was merely the beginning of a deeper conflict. He would bide his time, gather his strength, and prepare for their return. The next time they met, it would be on his terms.

A cruel smile twisted his lips as he surveyed the destruction around him. "I will see you soon, Princess," he whispered, the darkness responding to his words, a promise that lingered like a storm on the horizon. "You and Nilaa will be mine."

With that, Dark Opal vanished into the shadows, the remnants of his power swirling around him, ready to unleash his wrath when the time was right. The game was far from over; it had only just begun.

19063/Tales of Gemworld: An Opalious Trap

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