2428/Citysoul: A Wound in the Soul

Citysoul: A Wound in the Soul
Date of Scene:	13 July 2020
Location:	Sanctum Santorum
Synopsis:	The Heroes of the City gather to witness the birth of a new, dark god ... and get more than they bargained for!
Cast of Characters:	Stephen Strange, Amanda Sefton, Elektra Natchios, Nessa Donovan, Julio Richter, Dane Whitman, Sera, Lara Croft, Alexander Aaron, Takako Kyozan, Illyana Rasputina, Zora Vukovic, Blake Riviere, Colette O'Connail, Mary Bromfield, Ariah Olivie, Julie Yan, Siobhan Smythe, Sara Pezzini, Jason Blood
Tinyplot:	Citysoul

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Stephen Strange has posed:
The Sanctum Sanctorum has not hosted a large gathering in, well, ever. In all the many years it had been in the possession of the Ancient One and their disciples, it had been a watch house over the lines of power that course beneath Manhattan. The Ancient One's successor also saw little need to host large gatherings, preferring his privacy and the silence the Victorian brownstone afforded for deep contemplating. That was, at least, until tonight.

The very soul of New York City was under attack, and all able bodies had been gathered to protect it. Many had ventured out to rouse the genii locorum - the Spirits of the City - and bring them to safety, all whisked back to the Sanctum through portals rimmed in hellfire. Others had received their summons from the Doctor himself, calling for their aid against the great threat unfolding in the astral wound that was Bushwick. Others still were drawn by something deeper and stranger. Regardless of the reason, they find themselves here and now at the witching hour.

Refreshments have been set up on tables, and the parlor itself seems a little crowded. Five strange individuals sit around a single sofa, mostly keeping to themselves and not speaking. Laying across the sofa is a young woman in dark, hipster fashion with a heavily bandaged wound at her side. Seated on either arm of the sofa is a person in a strange hodgepodge of cultural dress from a dozen different lands and a woman nursing a baby and wearing Rosie the Riveter-style denim coveralls and a red bandana. A young man with a boombox sits in the corner, playing a soothing and rhythmic tune while drumming his fingers on the radio in his lap. Finally, someone of indeterminate gender wearing a pinstripe suit paces back and forth with a cellphone at their ear.

The Doctor is nowhere to be seen.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Moments after the portal from Staten Island closes, Daytripper finds herself looking around the Sanctum with raised brows. She's impressed. And she feels the weight of history and magic here. She also feels the weight of the crisis they face. Her lips purse lightly and reaches into her coat to fish out her phone. A quick text later, she stows it again and moves to stand by the fireplace, which allows her to watch the room, watch the door, and watch the genii locorum. Because, you know... her curiosity knows no bounds, tonight. Fortunately, her sense of decorum keeps her in check.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Well, talk about a fish out of the water...

Or in this case of an assassin in the middle of all the scholarly types. But what's true is that Elektra was one of those slipping through one of the portals earlier. Some hints of the earlier fight were still visible upon her clothing and body, those jeans torn near a thigh where Top Hat's cleaver got too close for comfort, her shirt and leather jacket darkened with what seems like .., blood? But black, and it's been disappearing steadily. Weird enough. Though no mistaking about those deadly Sais she held with both hands, still dripping when she had come across the hellfire portals. Right now they had been cleaned and tucked away inside her jacket, she moving closer to observe, both the figures sitting by but also the others that had gathered here.

Some faces she recognized, the one with the Soulsword who received a nod. She had shown quite the combat prowess. The two vampires, then the WAND Agent ..., and she truly hoped the man-demon had reverted back to their normal form. That had been weird enough on it's own too. And finally the winged angel.., that one received a nod too.

"Where is Strange?" voice echoing in the hallway.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
This isn't the type of place Nessa's used to being in. This was all a new experience, but one she was enjoying wholeheartedly in spite of the weirdness. She breezes by the refreshment table, glancing at it idly, but she's not entirely sure that's something she's interested in. Instead, she comes to rest with her back against a wall near one of the refreshment tables. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a black leather jacket, she still smells vaguely of bacon grease. She's not sure what to do, so she just watches, and waits.

Julio Richter has posed:
Hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn-out jeans, Julio keeps to the edges of the room and the group that occupies it. It's only been a few minutes since he half-skipped, half-staggered through Illyana's portal and found himself on the lawn in front of this stately brownstone. He's had long enough to recover from the trip through Limbo -- which has always hit him harder than most of their compatriots, and he's just starting to form a theory as to why -- but nowhere near long enough to understand his place here.

In his mishmash of second-hand clothes, he looks more like one of the street spirits they're here to help than some sort of mystic warrior. Still, he won't deny he can feel the power here, in the same way that he could feel it if they were standing above an active volcano; it's just not a volcano, or any of the litany of earthbound powers his mutant abilities allow him to identify or understand. He knows nothing, but in a way, that might be an advantage: all he's here to do is listen, and if possible, help.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane Whitman gets the impression that his experience getting one of the spirits of the Boroughs here was far less harrowing than that of some of the others. Not that he isn't grateful for that, and Staten Island seems like a nice lady (but let's just be friends). Of course, it's been made clear that these events are far from over. So for now he's procured two cups of coffee, and has moved over to hand one to fellow SHIELD/WAND Agent Lara Croft, prepared as she tends to like it.

He does hear Elektra's query in the hallway, and responds:

"I've met two Sorcerer Supremes so far, and I've noticed they tend to keep their own schedule, usually for very good reasons."

Sera has posed:
Sera arrives right on time at the brownstone. Wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt that says 'Is Sera Angel in the House?' on it in bold black letters. But, unzipped black hoodie has been added to the ensemble. She's carrying a brown paper bag and from its tip pokes artisanal bread.

With a gently rapping on the door, she enters and announces to the faces she sees, "I brought bread." A table surface is found and the bread is placed upon it. She lifts a hand and begins to sing a soft little song, small magical daggers appear over the bread and she slices through it cleanly. The daggers disappear and she says, "Please help yourselves." She grabs a slice of the bread, with cheese and bacon topping it.

Of all the times she's met with Strange and ended up at this house, this is the first time she's actually come inside. She is not sporting any magical wings at the moment, nor glowing eyes. This is not the place to flaunt her identity, though plenty of people here know it well enough now.

"I'm sure he'll turn up. Nice fellow, a bit quiet. Awkward. I like him," Sera weighs in on the nature and state of Stephen Strange.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara is seated in a dining chair that she'd taken from a nearby table and positioned it on the perimeter of the meeting. She'd let her eyes roam over everyone upon sitting herself on it's edge, but had soon there-after dropped her eyes toward her phone in her hands. She was cataloging everything that had happened in this latest spiritual event... typing it away into her report app.

When the drink is delivered, her eyes look up and she smiles to Dane, then reaches up to accept it. "Thank you." She says in that calming British voice, before taking it and sipping it. It was perfect, and very comforting in the moment after the wild night that had occurred prior to this meeting.

On Lara's lap, is a crystal skull, resting on a black cloth bag that is draped over the top of her thighs.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A brief text was sent to Alexander Aaron. Little more than, 'You want to help heal the Wound? Come, now.' Followed by the address to a place that the Olympian youth had never been to. But it was, as it turned out, not too terribly far from his home. A quick hop off the couch, a grab at his backpack and he was gone through the door into the village and beyond.
    Only for the blond youth to be shown in, advanced into the gathering to look upon such a gathering of fine worthies that it drew a smile on the young man's face. His bright hazel eyes flitted from face to face to face. Some he actually recognized, which made his smile all the more wide. Deftly he moved through the crowd, heading towards the refreshments. Though his wandering is arrested partially as he espies Elektra and gives a companionable wave and mouths a silent distant greeting.
    Then there's the blond woman who sent the text and he diverts from his brief quest for something to drink and wanders in her direction. "Heyas." He offers when he gets close enough, "You seem tense."
    Which Alexander, perhaps through ignorance or some other reason, does not.
    So a smile is given to Amanda, then as the flow of the crowd breaks a bit he'll catch sight of Lara. "Oh hey, there's my neighbor."
    And louder he lifts his voice, "Hey Lara!" Waves.

Takako Kyozan has posed:
"Am I late?! There was traffic on the bridge!" Takako burst into the room in a burst of frenetic energy, every over worked, out of breath, and typically late but at least she didn't trip on anything in her rush.
She looks around at all of the faces, some she has met over the course of this, some are completely new. Looking at the sheer rogues gallery of mystical individuals, even angels and demons, it's finally begining to sink in just how far down this rabbit hole she has fallen since that fateful first night.

For now she tries to stay towards the edges and not attract too much attention beyond her sudden entrance.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Portals threading the breadth of the city delivered the genii locorum to the shelter provided by the Sanctum Sanctorum. Its very name implies the sacred space separated from the mundane, a handsome brownstone aegis raised to shelter the ephemeral from corruptive temporal influences like Illyana Rasputina.

She has been gone no more than two minutes outside, which amounts to twenty-one hours in her damned kingdom.

Corrosive entanglements with time very much represent her stock in trade, after all. Alternating between soulfire-laced dimensional hops or the traditional expression of the Mystic Arts in a firefly ring, she takes the opportunity to move through the doors wearing an entirely different outfit from the last few encounters over the evening. Because, when you're out of the standard timestream flowing around Earth, you get to take a nap.

"Does he require me to play host?" An inquiry hovering upon her lips with an odd lilt, she turns her head towards the others. Just about everyone is familiar from SHIELD's representative, Lara, up to Sera, unwinged but present, on to fellow compatriots. "Peculiar. Perhaps the wards will not mind so much laying out basic ground rules." Russian stains her accent, easy to identify. "Accord the Sanctum respect, keep your hands to yourself, and open no door that does not open for you. We are guests, let there be no violence or else we all might find ourselves mystically lobomotized and dumped in the Atacama Desert."

Mild words, as far as it goes. Her loose hair tumbles down her back, the black double-barbed coronet still in place. "We've recovered them all, then."

Zora Vukovic has posed:
    Following more warily after the group most recently on a baseball field is a fairly nondescript woman. Comfortable chinos, a dark green short sleeve blouse, well made hiking boots, her wealth of brunette hair pulled back into a loose tail behind her. Mostly, she's fairly tall, over six foot, and has that cut cheekbone look that speaks to Eastern European roots. There's a few scuffs and spots of dirt here and there, and a faint glow of purple in her eyes as she looks around, before it fades.

    After a moment she finds a place where she can observe the room, folding her arms over her chest quietly as she people watches for a moment, her eyes flicking from person to person, then back to Illyana as she speaks, her lips quirking in an almost smile for a moment.

    But she remains on guard here. The residents of the Sanctum are not traditionally friends of her lord. And likely not of her in most cases because of that.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Refreshment sfor Blake Riviere tended to be a little less traditional. She could eat normal food, but it was generally a different sort of nourishment the vampiress needed. Time for that later however, since she was here with more pressing concerns. The raven-haired woman in black had carried Ariah through the portal after the last battle, far from a sorceress herself, but the 'Draculina' had come to the aid of her 'child' who was.

A 'scholar' of sorts, perhaps, but Blake was very aware of the fact she was a 'monster' around mystics. There were some others she recognized of course, the Assassin, the gunslinging Lara andd the magical Magik for instance, but the vampiress herself had yet to actually meet Doctor Strange. At least his home lived up to the namesake!

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette O'Connail had been there for the recovery of the Manhattan genius loci, though it could not be said that she was in any way helping the effort. She had only played the role of nosy observer and had stuck to the shadows except for that quick exit through the portal. That was probably a mistake.

    Still, here she is. She might have been expecting, or even hoping, that any such invitations to attend would just be to get a lecture on not walking through other people's portals, but the truth is that those of a magical nature just can't stay removed from the magical demi-monde for long. She figures that her presence here is either a matter of being swept along with the tide, or someone was desperate and calling up anyone vaguely magical they could find. Either way, it should be a more interesting experience than sitting at home in front of the TV, so why not?

    For now she stays well in the background, a rather mundane appearing individual sticking to the shadows in the corners of the room but for a foray to fetch herself a drink. Her time is spent studying those gathered - an interesting assortment of faces, one or two of which she is somewhat suprised to see here.

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt still feels a bit out of place, glancing around with a curious expression at all the different people here. She flashes Julio a quick grin, taking comfort that she knows /someone/ here at least, as she looks over at Sera's pronouncement of bread being brought, and she grins a bit wider at Sera.

"Love the shirt." She actually laughs a little, relaxing a bit despite the situation. "I have to admit, I'm still a bit confused about everything going on, but..." She shrugs a bit, glancing back at Illyana and then looking around at everyone present, "Big crowd, I have to say."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah, weaving in and out of consciousness, holds on to both Blake and her staff. One arm up around the woman's shoulders, the other clutching the length of runed metal close to herself. "...would seem we are only just getting started, non?" she opens her eyes halfway, head turning slowly and taking in all of the faces around. She only knows a precious few, but the small witch nods to everyone in turn. "...we are all united in purpose, yes?" she offers as greeting, her voice cold and quiet.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Mystically lobomotized and dumped in the desert sounds like the aftermath of a crazy night of drinking," Nessa says, a mild look of amusement on her face. "Some would say the real thing would be preferable." It's not directed to anyone in particular, though her gaze does sweep the room to take in everyone she sees--she's making mental notes in case she needs to remember any of them in the future. She probably will.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Daytripper -- Amanda -- glances up as Alexander enters. A tight smile graces her lips. They twitch slightly at his questions. "Long night," she days dryly, using her chin to gesture to the cluster of genii locorum gathered about the sofa. "Had a bit of a scrap before we got here." Zombies. Eugh.

Her eyes flit to Lara as Alexander waves to her. There's only curiosity in them, nothing more. The fact is, she knows very, very few people in this room. And even those she is acquainted with are recent acquaintences at that -- some as recent as an hour ago.

She inhales a deep breath through her nose and considers. "I'm going to get a drink," she tells Alex, gesturing toward the refreshment table. "Want something?"

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Elektra, not exactly known for her patience towards either men, demons or a combo of both. She rolls her eyes when it's said it may take a while for the Sorcerer to get here by Dane. But fine, she can wait.. And while she waits she may just as well get herself a coffee. She does just that, gathering it up for a sip and to regain that precious patience of hers and moves back in to the main room.

Some amusement does come when Illyana mentions there may be lobotomies coming. She does like her danger, but not even her is crazy enough to mess around with the Sanctum with a Sorcerer Supreme.

Iinstead she chooses to stick closer to Boney, aka Lara's skull. It's a good place as any, and it looks like an important piece to all this puzzle. "Boney seems to be quiet now. Good." she murmurs.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Though the Doctor is not present, someone else moves into the room carrying a tea tray that he moves to set down on the table. Wong wears a dark changshan robe and a stern expression, pausing to look down at the two teacups that sit alongside the plot. A weary glance is given to the gathered crowd before he sighs and moves one cup to the left, and even though it moves it remains behind as well. Over and over again he does it, until over a dozen teacups are scattered about the table. As he steps out of the room again, he gives Illyana a knowing nod, pointing a finger towards the ceiling and disappearing into the adjacent room.

As the din of conversation fills the air, the Sanctum appears almost like a home. The artefacts in their glass cases seem to move when visitors pass close by, as though alive and curious. There is an oil painting affixed to the wall of the parlor depicting a herd of running horses - when one looks at it, it is still, but out of the corner of the eye it seems to animate and the horses gallop across the endless plain. Beyond the window, the dark and swirling smoke from the Wound at Bushwick fills the street now leaving nothing but inky blackness outside.

THOOM.

The sudden noise seems to shake the foundations of the Sanctum, though no damage is done. The porcelain rattles and the glass windows vibrate in their frames. The feeling comes quickly. A feeling of malicious intent focused from outside. The Sanctum itself insulates against it, but no one within would not feel it. As though a great, baleful eye were staring through its walls and directly at them ...

Takako Kyozan has posed:
Takako's eyes go wide and her head turns to stare in the direction of that baleful presence, "What was THAT?" she looks back to the others, looking rather unnerved.

Julie Yan has posed:
    Julie is hopelessly late. Dashing into the room, wearing white cargos and a hoodie over a black tank top and red sneakers, she hopes nobody notices her delayed arrival as she takes a sip from coffee she snagged while out late. It's crappy convenience store coffee, but it'll keep her awake given the extremely late time.

    Spying a certain British brunette, Julie sneaks on over besides her. "Hey," She whispers to Lara. "What'd I miss?"

    Then there's a sudden THOOM that gets her attention. "...Uhhhh. Danger senses tingling for anybody else?"

Zora Vukovic has posed:
    At the noise...impact?...Zora's eyes flick around for a moment, her chin lifting, then returns to her watchful stance as it seems nothing is immediately getting in. "Something is unhappy with you." she says, her Latverian accent audible. "The force behind the breaking of your...anchors? Or attempts to break them."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    In reply to Amanda, Alexander bobs his head and murmurs, "Sure. Whatever you're having is fine." He then nods in Lara's direction as he says sidelong to the sorceress, "I'm going to go say hi."
    A beat. "Again. I guess."
    But with that he crosses the distance toward Lara and her skull, but he catches the eyes of the assassin as they both make it there by her side. "Ma'am." In lieu of using her name just in case. Then to Lara, "Heya, what's that?" He motions towad the skull.
    But then he is brought up short by the loud sound, eyes lifting upwards as if trying to find the source of it. He frowns and those nearest him might well feel that intimidating presence a touch less or perhaps with a subtly weaker bite to it.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio returns Mary's grin with a crooked one of his own, flicking his head back in greeting. A new acquaintance, to be sure, but a welcome one after their shared ordeal in the Bronx. Still, it's Illyana who fully captures his attention; his friend is not only taking charge of the gathering, but seems in her element here, in a way he hasn't really seen before and can't help but envy now.

When the tremor hits, Julio is positioned slightly behind Nessa, but not quite as far back as Takako; he's taking the order not to touch anything seriously enough that even leaning against the wall seems ill-advised. But that shudder in the foundations is alarming to him in ways he wouldn't expect and others might not understand. He /feels/ the Earth's tensions and tremors; they're his power and his element. Whatever just struck this building was not that -- not by a long shot. He drops into a crouch, a vibrant, quaking green aura growing around him as he taps the thunder seismic, and attempts to soothe away the shakes in the ground. After a few moments, the ground stabilizes, but whether he's having an effect or the attack has just passed, he couldn't say.

Sera has posed:
"And there it is," Sera says as she steadies herself. Of course nothing this intense could come without consequences. May be the city has had enough of them poking at all these sore spots, or perhaps that giant crater has awoken something nasty. But this is the sanctum and the very first time she saw it, she was impressed by the talented and ephemeral work that had gone in to magically guarding it.

"I suspect this house is acting like a bit of a beacon to whatever this wound has wrought. Strange mentioned it, perhaps he'll elaborate when he turns up." Still, she'd prefer to be back in her home.. no wait, that's nearer the wound, may be that's even less safe. She adds a smile to Mary at the comment about her t-shirt, "Thanks. I make them myself." Another piece of bread, this is going to be a long day, she can already tell.

"My money is on gigantic eyeball tentacle monster, anyone want to place bets?," Sera says trying to lighten the mood.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes look up and over to the voice calling out her name. "Alexander?" Lara asks as she spies him having seemingly newly arrived. "H-hello there, welcome to the madness." The Briton summons a smile then, simply surprised to see her neighbor here, though she knows enough about him to know he fits right in.

A glance is given then to Illyana as she speaking, but... to be honest, it's very hard for Lara not to explore this house, and hold back her desire to really look at the artifacts literally surrounding her on all sides. Keep it together, Croft...

Elektra's words draw Lara's attention, and she smiles over to her, then glances down at the skull. "For now." She says back to the other woman. "I'll admit I'm not eager to drive around again, with it shining a spotlight out of my windshield..."

When the vibrating thunderous noise happens, Lara's body stiffens and her eyes look about, waiting to see ... what, that was.

Upon Alexander's approach, she looks to Boney again, then back up to him. "I think it's a compass, of sorts, or a spirtual radar, some how tied to this event. But I'm not positive."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt glances over towards Takako, "A great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame." She coughs, then grins a bit, "Sorry, couldn't resist the reference, but I think that's from the wound on the city's soul. Darkness creeping in."

She then glances over at Zora, noticing the accent as she suddenly changes over, speaking fluent Latverian... though with a New York accent, which is probably disconcerting, "<Wait, you're from Latveria? It's nice to meet you.>"

Though, when Sera mentions the T-shirt, she feeds into the effort to lighten the tension, "Well, I think it's great," as she fluidly switches back to English, "Got a website?" Her eyes spark a bit. Almost literally, in point of fact.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane glances over towards Thunderbolt and smiles wryly, "It's magic...if you're not at least a little confused, it's probably not actually magic."

Dane gives the Crystal Skull in Lara's lap a glance when Elektra mentions that it speaks. But he doesn't ask anything aloud because well...that might wake it up and it sounds like it's at the very least annoying to Elektra, so best avoided. Though then Alexander and Lara take up the topic anyway, and manage to assuage some of his curiosity regardless.

And then there's the *THOOM* and Dane seems perhaps less perturbed than some, though certainly now laced with a touch of wariness. When Zora offers her explanation, he nods, "Well, that stands to reason. I'd imagine this place has the best magical defenses on the planet, though, or near enough." Of course, no fortress is impregnable. He's learned that lesson the hard way.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Telling an unknown power to shove off in a half-dozen chthonic languages might, in fact, be construed as unwise. But there it is. Nonetheless, Illyana slowly tilts her head up to survey the unknown with a withering stare completely incongruous with her delicate age. Being the likely youngest in the room doesn't match the pitiless icy-eyed stare into the abyss. The monsters on the other side are more than likely to blink first against that stone-faced visage bearing only the faintest semblance to humanity for a moment.

She was headed for a teacup, the last that Wong may think to distribute. Instead, chattering porcelain and humming artifacts leave her shoulders tightened. "How is the skull?" she asks Lara without looking over her shoulder, entrusting that someone, something can answer when she isn't looking at any of them directly.

Her shoulders arch back slightly to distribute the slithering burden of opening her mystic Sight a sliver wider in a place such as this. "Something arose from the wounds of Bushwick. An awakening, I thought. But that feels like a tremor." A glance to Julio, then she shakes her head. "Nyet, a contraction. How long between this and the next rattle?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
A teacup offered, for now it was refused by Blake. She had some concerns that took a little more priority. Leaning against Ariah to offer support she does indeed glance towards 'Boney' at Elektra's comment, having seen Lara's 'friend' in full glowy when it was reacting to the madness at the church, but her questions would wait till she knew a little more about what questions needed to be asked.

The joys of being a latecomer to the party.

That sudden surge of motion and noise from the 'intent' has her blinking, blue eyes fading to deep glowing red almost defensively, but she's yet to move. Perhaps this was normal?

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The >THOOM< startles Amanda, who is halfway across the room when it impacts the Sanctum. She looks ceilingward for a moment, tension drawing through her as she nearly ignites a shield in response. But, she stops herself. The brownstone settles and she inhales slowly again, willing herself into a more peaceable mindset. With a grimace, she moves to retrieve herself a cup of tea, pouring a second for Alexander as well.

It's then she turns back to scan the room to see where the Olympian has gotten to. She then moves towards him, offering his companions a polite smile in greeting.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
    Zora looks slightly nonplussed as Mary greets her in her own language. "<A pleasure.>" she says after a moment, nodding to her. "<And yes. I am from Latveria.>" She doesn't see any point in hiding it really. Strange certainly knows. The group she was with at the baseball field already outed her thanks to that RICHARDS boy.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Done with your homework already?" Yes, Elektra still remembered when she had met young Alexander, amusement briefly flickering on her expression through strained features. But then that THOOOM comes. She looks up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed but no further comment, and certainly no more amusement upon her face.

"You may have to, sooner than later." Elektra says to Lara, "...Considering all that is going on outside. I trust, whoever -that- is, isn't happy with the people we saved." a nod given to the sitting figures nearby.

Daytripper's approach is met with a sharp nod from the Assassin yet her attention is then down on the skull as well, perhaps looking for a reaction. Boney appears to be quite the ladies' .., skull.., considering all the attention it's getting.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes dart to Julie, who gets a light smirk. "You missed the Church." She tells the other. "But... we're progressing, it seems. Lots of spiritual activity afoot in Manhattan tonight." To Illyana, Lara nods once and then motions to the skull with a hand removed from her phone. "Dormant. For now. You're welcome to look it over, if you'd like."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah does lean heavily on Blake, but otherwise remains silent. She doesn't refuse the tea like her 'mother' does, however, and takes one of the cups in her free, if shaky hand. The booming crash of malice outisde makes her wince, just a touch, and she exhales a sigh before taking a sip. A glance up to Blake and a momentary smile, a nod of thanks for getting into this madness with her, before she takes a slow sip of that tea. Even if it offers no sustenance, but it does offer further comfort.

    "It seems all five have made it here safely... but what do we do now?" she asks, almost rhetorically, looking over the anachronistic collection of apparitions.

Julie Yan has posed:
    After the loud crash, Julie realizes she's grabbed Lara's hand spare hand in reflex. Nervously, she releases it and giggles as she tries to laugh it off. "Err...yeah, I've been...uh, busy." She mutters.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Even as the rumbling subsides, a voice echoes through the heads of all those present. It whispers urgently, with the screed of nails on a chalkboard. Almost painful to hear, and full of loathing:

You are alone.
    You are sick.
        You are walled in.
    You are living.
We never were.

In Lara's lap, the crystal skull she holds darkens. Where once it shone with a faint internal luminescence, it seems as though something dark has begun to coalesce within. Through the faceted, murky exterior the same blackness that is outside can be seen. Spreading like an infection until the clear, crystalline surface is instead deepest obsidian. It is cold to the touch, like a chunk of ice floating in the northernmost ocean.

It is then that someone sweeps in from the adjacent room, a familiar figure to some and known by reputation to others. He wears the vestments of the Sorcerer Supreme, the Eye of Agamotto secured at his throat. His high-collared cloak moves as though underwater, rippling and swaying in an unseen wind. In his hands he holds a wooden box with jade inlay, and he moves immediately across the room to Ariah and Blake. The box is opened, and within are apples of a deep crimson color with no blemishes nor stem.

"Eat one each," Doctor Strange insists of the two vampires, glancing with a furrowed brow to the window and the swirling darkness outside, "And hurry. There's little time."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As Amanda arrives Alexander smiles his thanks to her and accepts the tea, though taking a moment to peer at it curiously. To sniff it. Then to take a sip. When he does not get turned into something untoward he seems to ease up on it in time to give Elektra a crinkle-nosed look at the mention of his homework.
    Then to Lara he gives a nod, it looks like the thing from the movie. Of course that's just in time to catch Julie's hand spasm which causes a surge of a /snort/ to come from him, stifled with a snicker.
    But it is an ill-heralded thing considering what happens after. The displeasing sentiment made manifest in the voice and its clear malice. It causes the young Olympian to make a face of consternation enough to cause him to fold his arms over his chest with a sudden serious look to his normally at ease features.

Sera has posed:
Sera shakes her head to Mary, "No, no website. I change the shirt after every outing, to keep is fresh and different." She smiles with a touch of bemusement. Eventually she'll run out of puns and have to circle back to the beginning.

Her levity is short lived though as she feels goosebumps race down her spine when the voice speaks in her head. Oh yes, this bit. She remembers this bit. Her face is scrunched up and her hands forming fists.

"Oh good you're here," she says to Strange. This is the kind of occurrence that would send her to the great forbidden library, reading for months to understand. Well, she has no such access to the library, not for hundreds of years, nor does she have months to understand this seeping wound and the monstrosity clawing its way free from it. No, instead - she has Stephen Strange. In Strange she knows she can trust.

"I hope somebody has a plan because I don't want to die again, so soon. Though Elysium will be nice this time of year - every time of year - I'm not done with exploring life."

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara glances dwon to her hand when it is grabbed by Julie, who get a soft smirk before she has her gaze taken away by the change in appearance of ... Boney. "Speaking of which." Croft says then as her other hand moves to gather up the crystal skull, holding it in her palm and lifting it up. "Looks like we have a little reaction to that noise--" But ultimately, Lara's attention is pulled to STrange when he sweeps in to the room.

The skull is heled up in front of her though, displaying its change for all to see more easily. "Doctor." She says to Stephen. "Your little crystaline friend here, seems to have something to say."

Julie Yan has posed:
    Julie looks nervously at the crystal skull, and keeps an eye perked at the apples Stephen provides. "Evening, doctor." She says, bowing deferentially to the master sorcerer, fist against palm.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda winces at the sound of the voice, having presence of mind to put the drink still in her hand aside before she drops it. Her eyes are drawn to the skull, concern deepening on her features. "So... What exactly are we dealing with," she ask now. The time for smalltalk appears to be over. At least, as far as she's concened.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa, while startled, is not spooked. She does tense up a little, as if instantly ready for a fight, but moves little from her position. "On the plus side, I'm pretty sure we've got a nice defensive force in here," she murmurs, once again mostly to herself. She's certainly alarmed by what's going on, mostly because she's not sure how best to combat this sort of thing. Her skillset is very specific, in general.

Blake Riviere has posed:
That noise? It brought a tensing of Blake's form, a soft ache of fangs ready to extend. Voices and pain unwelcome in her mind are rather close to some painful memories for the former 'bride'.

Quite the arrival, even Blake can't help but be a little impressed by the sweeping in of the figure she could only assume is the awaited sorcerer in such finery. His approach, so direct to her and her 'daughter' doesn't have Blake easing down just yet, but when the box is offered their way and the deep red apples insisted upon them? It's more curiousity than mistrust. She was 'of magic' after all, but that didn't mean the Vampiress understood it as other do.

A glance to Ariah, an affirmative was awaited before she bit down into the fruit, but the moment she did those eyes grew wide and pupils dialated as the rush hit her. Pulling away from it with a little startled amusement, the woman finally spoke up. "A 'pomme du sang' in a very literal sense. How clever..."

Another bite, she lapsed into the quiet of eating the offered 'recharge', eyes moving over the gathered faces.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    When the tremor subsides and the wierd echoing voice has its say, Colette decides the world is probably not ending just yet and she probably won't have to go find a new oneright away. Shrugging faintly to herself she resumes sipping her drink and watching the crowd, eyes particularly on the student and teacher she recognizes from Happy Harbor. She thinks about those words - 'You are living. We never were'. She doesn't try to disguise a smirk on the personal irony she feels hearing those words. She might have thought the same words herself back before she was born, but then she did something about it. Maybe that voice is planning to do something about it too. She wonders whether that would be a bad thing.

    Potential imminent sorcerous catastrophes notwithstanding, Colette's beginning to get a little bored once the momentary excitment of the tremor and voices has passed. This should probably be a worrying reaction - but then she never really worries about anything. Then Strange shows up and starts making some people eat apples. She perks up, assuming that means the show is starting - an attitude which should really also be a worrying reaction. Honestly the woman's not right.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio stands up again once the ground is calm, flicking a sneer at the window as he does so. He doesn't like uninvited guests in his head, he doesn't like unnatural powers shaking the earth, and he sure as hell doesn't respond well to threats. "What is /moving/ out there?" he asks, speaking for basically the first time since the gathering began. It might be a stupid question; he doesn't really have the frame of reference to know. He just knows that whatever it is, it's scraping painfully against a sense he didn't know he had: a cheese grater against the lens of his third eye.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane Whitman sets down his coffee cup on the nearest suitable surface that looks stable and not containing anything powerful or valuable, and not-so-surreptitiously moves over towards where the spirits of the five boroughs are pseudo-assembled, not really in the midst of them, but close enough to react towards threats directed towards them, perhaps. And just to augment the effect, his armor coalesces into view around him, complete with the Ebony Blade sheathed at his waist.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Tea. Tea will do. In the circumstances, it may be the best that Illyana can hope for once Strange swishes into the room with a gravity all of his own. She takes that moment to pick up the cup, for being without might be a sin and a half. They compound themselves in this sort of moment. She raises her cup to her lips, assessing gaze flicked sidelong to Mary and Sera, and then back again to the man.

"Death is rarely a lasting condition," she observes without an ounce of irony anywhere to be found. Boney in Lara's hands gains a brief look, the flash-fire of its transition to black glass worthy of a cause. "Old troubles," she tells Julio, "possibly become new ones."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary nods towards Sera, then looks over at the skull as she notices the change. "Well, that's not disturbing at all..." Then she pauses as Strange makes his appearance, giving the arriving Sorcerer Supreme a respectful nod. She doesn't recognize the man, but she recognizes the station and has a better idea of where she is now.

When she spots Julio standing up, she makes her way over towards him, a hint of electricity dancing around her as she puts on a brave face. She might not be feeling it too much with all the darkness swirling around, but she isn't going to let it show.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The offer of apples earns an owlish blink from Ariah, a normal expression for the small woman. She seems to be quite comfortable in the presence of the Sorcerer Supreme, though, and when shes urged to eat, she takes the apple. A pause is given, feeling it in her hands, feeling what the fruit offers her. "...Merci..." she bows her head in thanks to the Doctor, and takes his advice, do to so quickly as time is short.

    The words make her frown, and while she may be a vampire, her 'undead' state isn't quite that of a ghost or apparition. She glances out the window again, then sinks her teeth into the apple. The fangs might be visible, for a moment, to the others in the room but are quickly hidden as they dig into the apple and pull out a full bite. Much like Blake, her eyes and pupils go wide, a rush of otherworldy nutrition filling her. She finds it hard to not exhale a soft sigh, bordering on the faintest of little moans. She stands up straight, no longer trembling, and eats the rest of the apple with barely concealed hunger.

    "Merci," she thanks the Doctor again, and any who could see the girl's aura would find her beacon of power on the Astral once more blazing bright. ...for good or ill. "We have a task? Set me upon it, and we will stand..." she murmurs.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Its power is sapped," Strange answers with a brief, dismissive glance at the skull, "The Wound grows too powerful for the Skull to hold it at bay now."

He reaches out to take it from Lara's hands, plucking up the black cloth from her lap and carefully wrapping it around. He holds one hand over it, an odd gesture accompanied by words: "I summon the Seven Rings of Raggadorr." As he speaks, several rings of light coalesce in the air and thread through the black cloth. Satisfied, he hands it back to Lara.

"An awakened god," is the answer given to Amanda, and to the gathering as a whole as Strange turns about to address them, "Or an unborn one. The theft of Bushwick left a wound in the City's soul. Shades of the Outer Dark have infested it, and this creature has gestated there. If it had severed the aethereal tethers it would have been unstoppable, but we - you - have robbed it of that power. Now it tries to birth itself. Illyana is right, these tremors are contractions of a sort. It's - "

A name.
    We have no name.
        Brooklyn. Queens. Bronx. Manhattan. Staten Island.
            Names!
        Give us a name.
    Names!
Name us!

The voice screeches through the collective minds of all present once again, and even Strange holds a hand to his head and winces painfully.

"A name ... " A knowing look is given to Illyana and Amanda, before Strange repeats the words again, "A name."

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
After having come inside, Siobhan has moved herself to the side of things. She looks around at all the people here and really doesn't recognize many. She knows Nessa and is aware of a few but this whole thing has really left her confused to say the least. Given her past, that's tough to do. She casually leans on a wall and watches the comings and goings until a voice makes her wince and then a man in fancy drapery shows up and she stares for a moment as he offers fruits or something to two people.

"Oye." She calls out lightly, raising her hand a little to get the attention of the man, "You in the fancy cape and such. I assume dis is your party?" She asks of him before looking at the others and then she holds her head as the voices is speak again and then she sighs, "What is all dis about a god and everything like dat? Seems like most here got a decent idea of what all dis means. I don't." Her Irish accent paints all of her words as she speaks though she does feel a slight clawing at her mind.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Everyone just seems to be able to conjure clothing at will! Elektra is getting jealous again after that first faceoff at the church, so many people changing outfits on the go. And now Dane turns into an armored figure just like that. She'd kill for something like that..., but with no good targets available she simply sighs wistfully.

The skull turning black makes Elektra quirk a brow, but right now she remains silent, content to observe. And ..., apples? She won't ask. Even if she will look rather judgemental at the whole affair between Strange and the vampires.

As Strange explains further about their enemy, and then the continued words on her head she frowns, shaking her head as if trying to shake that feeling away, wincing.

"How do we kill it?" She asks of the Sorcerer Supreme.

Julie Yan has posed:
    "He grows on you." Julie quips at Mary with a playful grin. She returns to seriousness again, arms folded after she downs her coffee and disposes of it. She grimaces a bit at the ghostly whispers in her ear, but she tries not to let it get to her as it echoes once more. It hurts to bear, though. Julie mentally compares it to nails on a chalkboard, grinding away at her eardrums.

    "Name for what, exactly?" She voices aloud. Elektra's question does draw a look of bemusement from Julie. "Kill it? We're talking about ghosts, not a slumlord or a politician."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"To know a thing's true name is to control it," Amanda says. "And if this is a birth... a christening might not necessarily be the best choice." Double-edged sword, that. Name it to control it. Don't name it... what happens? It dies? Or it lives uncontrolled?

The latter's not an option.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Since the Witchblade decided to adopt Sara as its wielder, she has become a' weird magnet' through no volition of her own. Either it finds her, or inevitably, she finds it. Case in point, she is in the weirdest place in the City, which is saying a lot for the eccentricities of New York, among a distinctly unhappy group of people. A sane response if there ever was one. Catching sight of Illyana's calm acceptance along with the Doctor's she amends that.

The Witchblade has been deployed up her arm for most of the day, long enough for her to become comfortable with it.

Brushing past Julio with a brief touch to his shoulder, she approaches the transformed glass skull. Detectives are a curious lot, the desire to know overcoming fear or reason. With the deadpan expression reserved for examining a corpse at a crime scene, she scrutinizes the black glass that glints light in its depths and moves back to arrange herself with the people she knows from the Bronx.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Judging looks are unnoticed it seems, perhaps the meal is that good. Either way, as explainations are given and 'Gods' seek names, Blake licks her fingers clean of the apple she'd rather quickly managed to consume. One last tracing of her tongue over her lips and she'll gently wait for Ariah to be standing on her own before she stretches her own arms over her head and exhales a little sigh.

Perhaps the vampiress was in over her head, but she was very much along for the ride at this point.

"The things that we encountered were easy enough to disrupt, but there were quite a few of them," she comments towards Julie's question, those red eyes having settled back to blue as she watches Dane and his mystically appearing armor. Neat, but it was just another new little mystery of magic encountered tonight.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"It can die," Strange admits, folding his arms and stroking his chin thoughtfully, "Or, more accurately, it can be dispersed. No deity truly ceases to exist, but they can become so diminished that they can no longer be any threat. But to know our enemy, we must see it."

The Doctor presses ring and middle finger to his palm, thumb outstretched, and gestures grandly through the air. The other hand goes to the amulet at his throat, clutching it as the stylized eye engraved into it opens as though alive.

"All-seeing Eye of Agamotto, show me this foe," he mutters, the bright light emanating from the amulet momentarily filling the room with a blinding glow.

When the glow passes, the walls of the Sanctum are gone. Physically there, but invisible. It is as though the mansion itself floats in the vast, inky depths of the void. Darkness stretches out in all directions, the only light coming from the amulet Strange holds. In the distance, a creature of impossible size - like a sprawling city - writhes in shadow. It thrashes clawed hands as though rending reality, peeling back the layers of the veil.

In the distance, a speck of light. The glimmer of stars. New York.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio nods a greeting to Sara, then turns a tight smile on Mary as she approaches. As they discussed in the tenement before they arrived, sometimes a brave face might be all you've got, but sometimes a brave face is all you need.

And sometimes a migraine arrives, demanding a christening. He's not knocked flat, but he staggers visibly under the psychic demands of the infant borough-spirit. So much for a brave face. "If we helped these guys," he asks gesturing at the assembled genii, "Could we help this one? Give it a name, get it to settle down somewhere and chill out? Once we gave the Bronx his boom box, he was fine."

The Eye's shift in perspective is surprising, but not too disorienting; Julio can still feel the ground underneath his feet, in more ways than one, so he just grimly observes the dark monster that he just suggested changing and putting to bed. Maybe not such a great idea. He tried, at least.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Names, a thousand voices, a pretense of so many of them. Illyana inclines her head slightly to the question being asked of her by the good Doctor. For a moment, she falls into the iconography of silence, holding herself somewhat at a distance but upnodding Sara with the grandiose terseness that one who has seen the battle gives to another. It's almost archaic in a fashion; the Witchblade, however, probably earns respect as much as the woman who wields it.

Her spine straightened somewhat, she smirks just a fraction at the appearance of Dane's armour but no more. Hardly one to talk; her own is already half engaged, given that crown worn and the merest inclination causing a sword to appear if it must.

"A name," she repeats, looking finally to Amanda. "Pressure normally reserved for one's firstborn but we are all collectively midwives and doctors." Too young for it, ancient by half. The light of the Eye is bound to give a fleeting glimpse of her dual nature and the tethers holding her to another realm, possibly even a shadow of what her role in Limbo is. That crown ain't for show. "Sapokanikan is the ground we stand on now. The name used by the Lenape who lived here. Yet it borrows from them. And so, we have choices perhaps to make."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Alexander Aaron, by his nature, is not one given to fear. It is simply something that he cannot experience though he has known its touch in his past before he became the God of Fear. At the visage that is set before him he frowns, maintaining that calm controlled manner as his brow furrows and he considers what is set before them. And what the good Doctor can conjure.
    He sips his tea.
    A glance around the room is spared, the conjurations of blades, the manifestation of armor. By the power of peer pressure alone he is urged into action to lift a hand and with a small flicker of energy, silvery flame that licks over his hand, he manifests a long crimson-bladed sword that he tucks neatly under one arm. Even as he leans forwards and then quietly.
    Quietly.
    Says to Dane gently, "Hey, Coach."

Mary Bromfield has posed:
Thunderbolt gives Julio a grin, "Not sure if that's the best idea. Didn't you see Ghostbusters?" She winks at him, "Though, well, I get my powers from a Wizard, magic isn't exactly my strength... I might need to change that up a bit." She looks at the dark ephemeral view of New York City, and the birthing dark god, and frowns a little in thought.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "...the pretty songstress..." Ariah says quietly, pausing for a moment as she eats, looking to Siobhan when the other white-haired girl joins the party. Any further attempt to communicate is cut off as that feeling in her mind also makes her wince. Her eyes clench shut and she almost drops the remnants of her apple, hurriedly taking up the rest and finishing it. She'll still lean on Blake, of course, but is standing on her own two feet much more steadily now.

    "...do we name it only to end it? How does one banish a god?" she murmurs, eyes widening when the world melts into darkness and stars. She frowns, expression on the more negative side of things as she stares out into the darkness at the great beast.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
"Human or God. Everything dies." Elektra says with finality towards Julie. She still had to become an actual God-Killer though. But there was a first time for everything. Just the hint of a faint, eager smile showing at the corner of her lips. Give it to the assassin to be always ready for new steps in slaying. The sky is the limit!

And she certainly listens intently to Stephen's explanation, then around as the walls .., disappear.

She blinks once at the all encompassing darkness but she tightens her jaw, expression impassive.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
    "And how do we...disperse this would be god?" Zora says slowly, eyeing the menacing image. "If you cannot kill it, then what is the alternative?"

Colette O'Connail has posed:
"Things have a tendency to get a name for themselves one way or another, " Colette replies dryly to Amanda' musing. "And names go some way to shaping the thing itself. Names are ideas, as well as labels."

    She shrugs her shoulders mildly in the endless dark. "Is it better it finds its own idea to shape itself? It might be. But then if it isn't you lost the chance to shape its course into something you can manipulate."

Julie Yan has posed:
    "In fairness," Julie says to Thunderbolt, "They -did- trap Gozer in a form that was honestly pretty harmless." She teases. "A big marshmallow guy isn't that big a problem compared to say, a massive radioactive lizard monster." The martial artist points out. But that's not entirely relevant here. The Irish singer draws Julie's eye, if only for the striking punk style Siobhan's got going on. Not to mention the cop with a weird metal gauntlet arm thing growing on her like a part of her body. That's got to be anything but standard issue.

    Of course, small talk has to end. Strange calls upon the Eye of Agamotto, and the room suddenly shifts and morphs into an inky void, endless and all-consuming. Julie steels herself for the journey, but it's overwhelming to say the least, experiencing this kind of cosmic journey. "Maybe it doesn't have a choice." She suggests to Colette.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Gods. Yet, more gods. New York, it seems, is lousy with them. And here Amanda thought the UK was bad.

She meets Illyana's eyes for a moment as Agamotto does its work. A humourless half-smile tugs at one corner of her lips -- more a reaction to the writhing of the god than anything revealed about the Russian. Usually performing a midwife's or doctor's role is a pleasurable thing. She's not so sure about this time.

As the nascent god is revealed, her eyes narrow and her nostrils flare faintly -- as sign she is considering the problem, though she doesn't say anything just yet. Letting the others ask their questions.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
They all have their opinions, Sara, complete neophyte at these affairs, weighs in on the side of things never dying. Transforming suits her better. She might if exposed to disappearing walls and hanging in space often enough get used to this. At the very least, she didn't shriek and make a fool of herself. Julio's brave idea earns a faint smile from her.

"That does kind of make sense, Julio. What got out of balance that this is even happening?" She asks both Mary and Julio daring herself to look out on the writhing form.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"Oh good, we get to see de bastard and know what it looks like. Doesn't explain a damn thing but it sure does show me what we're..." She stares as the room changes and Siobhan stares in disbelief, "What in de blue f**k is dat?!" She points even as the light of the Eye of Agamotto shines about. She is not leaning on the wall anymore as she steps away and stares for a long moment, "Well, dere's your damn problem!" She calls out.

Unbeknownst to her, though, the light of Agamotto is revealing something to anyone looking that she doesn't realize is being revealed. It's like looking at the light reflecting out of a pool of water. The light showing a part of her she keeps quite hidden. As she turns in the light, it flickers over her face and her teeth...are very visible on the left of her face. Her head is a skull for a moment with her pale, silvery hair all the more defined. Almost glowing. Her left eye brightened with otherworldly light. Her cheeks sunken in shadow. Her left hand a skeletal and white thing for a moment as she puts it on her hip. It's a hazy thing. Like that part of her isn't real and yet it very clearly is. She glances to Ariah, giving her a smile and a nod that looks half-alive and half-horribly dead.

She then looks back to the god thing they must face and the light scales back over her, revealing where she turns a form wrapped in whites and blacks and silvery light that she isn't yet aware of.

Sera has posed:
Sera hmms thoughtfully, "Normally I'd consider naming a violent entity a bad idea, but to name something is to gain power over it. It must consider itself able to overcome the power it gives us in this naming."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"This creature is not the same as the genii locorum," Strange announces, still watching the writhing darkness bathed in the light of the Eye, "They are born of human thought. They are creatures of the physical and astral. A natural phenomenon, regardless of how unnatural they may seem. This ... "

Strange gestures across the expanse of infinity towards the writhing, unborn gone.

"This is not meant to be. This can never be."

A glance is given towards Siobhan at her question, though he does not immediately answer it. Instead, he turns his attention to Zora and offers a faint nod to Colette and Sera.

"We name it. There is power in a true name, and if that power is given by us, we may in turn wield it as a means of destruction. Dispersal."

Strange is once more interrupted by the creature's whispering voice. When it moves in the void, its shape seems to change. One moment a vast skeleton, the next a wailing infant, the next a hissing snake. It shifts so quickly the mind has trouble assigning a true identity to it.

We are seen.
    We see you.
        Name us!
    Children of the Real.
        Watchers against the Infinite.

Jason Blood has posed:
*CRUNCH*

The sound, sudden but not terribly alarming as no doubt they've heard the same thing before, announces a strange sight: a yellow-skinned demon perched on some portion of the Sanctum not usually meant for sitting, hunkered like a gargoyle.

A gargoyle eating an apple.

So apparently Etrigan is here too. Or has appeared in whatever way, although there's no odor of sudden brimstone. Either way, it suggests that Jason was off doing something... more involved than his usual studies, at the appointed time of this little gathering. Or maybe it's just a reaction to the seriousness of the situation, to the ominous energy, the darkness radiating from the skull.

"Against foes vicious, darkness pernicious, I must say Steve, this apple's delicious." Or maybe he was just hungry!

Hopping down, Etrigan finishes the whole thing, at the last holding the core by the stem and dropping it down his gullet. "To name it is an amusing task, though one requiring thought. No lame sobriquet or careless mask, but one more careful wrought."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"Or it's a child-God and may not understand the full implications of what it asks for. Even the Gods are fallible." Dane speaks up, giving Alexander a brief nod, but it doesn't seem the time for much side-conversation. "So we name it or we try to find some way to banish, imprison, or disperse the raw mystical essence of a God /without/ a name. I'm not the expert but my gut tells me the former is the way to go." And then Dr. Strange confirms it. Dane's not stupid enough to just blurt any old thing out, though. He knows enough to know there's as much an art to naming when it comes to magic as anything else.

"Did the Lenape have a term for "Oblivion" or "Nonexistence" or anything along those lines?" He adds, "Though do we want to draw it to a stronger bond with the city by linking it to an ancient name? Maybe something more ephemeral or transitory?"

Takako Kyozan has posed:
Takako has been listening quietly for quite some time and occasionally mumbling to herself. Maybe the eye spooked her though the murmurings of the forgotten stunted deity seem to only make it worse. She looks almost like she has seen a ghost in some ways. "It seeks a name, it seems to exist, is there any way that it can be helped?" she finally asks, "Or is violence our only path to protect this city?"

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara holds the skull wrapped up inside of the bag now, standing now and observing / listening to the others around her. She's nervous, anxious, on-edge. Her eyes sweep around when the disembodied voices speak.

"The island of Manhattan was discovered by Henry Hudson." She speaks up. "I'd consider naming this spirit, these spirits, Hudson." She glances to the Doctor, then to the others. "It seems only fitting to me."

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio takes in what's happening around him, although he can't be said to fully understand it. "If it's of the earth and we want to disperse it, what about 'dust'?" he suggests. Then, gesturing toward Illyana and Dane: "Or the Lenape word for dust, anyway."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah stares longer when Siobhan's true form is seen, what strangeness in the darkness and light of sight can provide. She seems... unperturbed, maybe somehow staring fondly, for just a moment. The demands for a name continue, though, and she resumes frowning, staring off into the ever-changing darkness and miasma. Her fingers holding her staff brush over the runes slowly, and Sera might recognize some of the words the tiny vampiress utters as suggestions for the creature's name. "Etall... Gygr... Ivioja..." Names for giants. For spirits. For all-consuming.

    With her French accent, the words seem a little out of place, but her tongue finds the right pronunciations with little difficulty, though most of those words are yet spoken absently as she stares into the writhing void.

Zora Vukovic has posed:
    "...Citydark." Zora says, shrugging her shoulders. Hey, she's a Herald, not a namer of names."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Perhaps it can only feel the void of non-life and wishes so much to have an existence that it doesn't consider the consequences of being named," Colette suggests. "But honestly I'd be dubious of anyone's claim to be able to foresee the meaning an entity can find in its own name. I'd suggest giving it a name that contains as little meaning and encompasses as few ideas as possible. Something normal, something simple. Jim, perhaps. Or Stanley."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"I never expected to be standing in a room with a bunch of amazing people trying to come up with a /name/," Nessa is certainly still looking around and taking her time with it, but she doesn't seem to have any suggestions. "I swear if someone pulls out a 'top baby names' list on their phone..."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda grimaces at the names being thrown about. Privately, she thinks they're overthinking it. 'Bob' would work as well as anything. Except Jim Butcher already used that, so... "The specific name doesn't matter," she notes, "Only that it becomes its True Name. Names are more than just sounds or syllables or even definitions. They're emotions, impressions, dreams, and desires as well."

A rose by any other name... actually *isn't* a rose, any more.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"The Lenape believed the world came from an empty, dark space. It had a name. Their first god walked from the emptiness, a spirit of such power who dreamt of creation in his sleep in that darkness." Illyana supplies that quiet information, for what it is worth. "The place I named is under your feet. The place they believed, the emptiness, became full when it was dreamt." Her nose wrinkles in thought, the weight of the possibilities around her swirling, and pulling down the unknown into the known. She has to think. Not everything is done by memory.

"Ohelemi," she says. "The far distance. Mata Keku, the name of the great emptiness that the Great Spirit filled and found."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"The Lenape spirit of death and destruction was Mahtantu," Strange answers Dane, though his eyes are still fixed upon the writhing spirit in the void, "Though perhaps Mhuwe, the man-eater, would be more fitting. A city turned against balance devours people and spits out the bones."

His eyebrows raise at Lara's suggestion, turning slightly in place to regard her: "That is fitting, also." And then a glance to Julio and something almost akin to an encouraging smile: "Lëni Hàki - the common earth. Easily dispersed and washed away."

The suggested names come from all angles, and the Doctor regards them all thoughtfully. But when he opens his mouth to speak again, the creature lets out another piercing cry that echoes across the psyches of all present. It begins to writhe again, splitting apart - rent down the middle. It becomes three where there was only one.

A river choked with refuse and effluent, spilling out into the darkness of the void.

A city stretching into eternity, towering spires of glass and steel and concrete that seems to grow with each beating of its hideous heart.

And darkness. An all-encompassing, hopeless dark.

"No ... " gasps Strange, his eyes wide.

        We are named

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Frowning, eyes flitting from one to the other of each mote of creation, Alexander shifts his weight forward and takes up a place beside Amanda and Lara, a touch further to the front. A deep breath is drawn as he tries to understand what he's just witnessed and then he looks across the way toward Strange and asks quietly.
    "Triplets?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Covering her mouth with her hand, Sara stifles a fit of awkward giggles. She whispers to Julio who most likely was raised a Catholic like she was, "It's a christening." Every time she looks out on the immense form, she has an image of a baby crying at the fount under the cold water being dripped on its forehead by a priest. This deity most likely predates any form of that ceremony.

"The Lenape people of New York spoke Algonquian. I'm lucky I remembered that. Anyone know..." Illyana preempts the question. She turns to the Russian woman with a smile.

Dr. Strange's voice cuts off her congratulations. The Witchblade pulses painfully on her arm.

Julie Yan has posed:
    Once they decide on a name for this christening, Julie can't help but snicker. "Guess we better do a ballot for what the final name is gonna b-" Her train of thought is interrupted once the entity is named, and Julie feels a gnawing in her brain as the voice speaks once more. "...I think we just fucked up, guys." is all she can say.

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Oh, 'good'. The creature has been named! Makes Elektra not having to suggest names for it. Actually, wait up.., the creature is named?!

That makes Elektra arch a brow and she appears to tense, reaching within her jacket to place a hand on a Sai, however good that will be..

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
A look over at the others and she listens, crossing her arms and shaking her head, "I still hardly understand any of what is goin' on but I do know that that thing is definitely a..." She stares as she watches it split apart and then she looks to the others before looking again, "Is anyone else seein' dis? Was I drugged?" She asks and then gestures with one hand at it, "What are those things? What does it mean they are named? You said one ting! Not tree of dem!" She nods her head and then looks to Strange, "Aren't ya supposed to be de one in charge here."

She then looks over at Etrigan and gestures, "And what is dis? Is no one else weirded out by the big, rhymin' gargolye dat is actually in de room wit us?" She looks to Sara and then Lara before looking to Ariah and Julie.

She looks to Alexander when he speaks and then sucks in a breath as she walks closer to Illyana and gestures, "You, you seem like the right sort of mad for dis. What are we dealin' wit' here?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Mhuwe, then," Amanda murmurs. She nods, suppressing the grimace that pulls at her with the dark god's apparent approval. "Okay. We've named our enemy. Now..." She looks to Strange. "What do we do to control him?" Because the rituals she knows aren't great for this level of power. Binding demons? Got it. Superdemons and chthonic deities? Eeeehhhh... That might be a little beyond her immediate ken.

Good thing she's a quick study?

Takako Kyozan has posed:
Takako supresses a shudder, "It may have been a victim at one point but its corruption has become unmistakable and barring a means potent enough to purify godlings, there may be little recourse but to fight it. Three is a sacred number in the Shinto traditions of my homeland, but I believe that is also true for many other cultures as well. This seperation may only have increased it's power." One hand goes to her forehead holding it like she has a headache.

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio seems to accept Strange's encouragement, even if it was only incidental, standing a little straighter and thinking through the options and rationales being presented. He manages a quick smirk at Sara, and "I'm not going to make much of a godfather" in response to her whisper -- raised Catholic and practicing Catholic are so frequently opposite ends of the spectrum, after all -- when all hell breaks loose. He lowers into a crouch, as if readying for a fight, and blurts out, "I didn't think it got a vote! Much less three!"

Stephen Strange has posed:
The Doctor is quick. The three embodiments stretch out towards them and with a wave of his hand the Eye of Agamotto closes. The walls of the Sanctum return, and once more they are back in the well-appointed (if not somewhat cluttered and crowded) parlor of a stately Victorian brownstone.

"The indecisiveness," Strange explains, looking from face to face, "Our desire to find a perfect name. It's caused the creature to become trifurcated. Three distinct aspects of the same whole. Perhaps weaker, but all will need to be destroyed at once if we are to do anything more than wound and anger it."

A sidelong look is given to Siobhan: "You'll find there is precious little about the universe that one can be in charge of."

"We must act fast," the Doctor announces, taking charge in spite of his words, "Each aspect must be battled. Defeated. We will divide into groups."

Then he turns to the genii locorum, the Spirits of the City gathered in their private corner of the room: "My friends, it is time."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    With the return of the furniture around them, Alexander avails himself of that opportunity to set his tea down upon an appropriately antique table, though with a napkin underneath. He then turns and sets the sword under his arm to his hip, as a small sheath materializes into being to hold it properly in place.
    A deep breath is taken, then he turns towards Amanda, Lara. He even spares a half-smirk at Elektra though for some reason it's almost apologetic.
    "I'll try to protect you guys as you do your thing. Best I can."

Elektra Natchios has posed:
Finally, they are talking her language. Destroying the creature. Defeat it. That much Elektra understands even if she has her own mysticism rooted on the learning of the Hand ancient ways. She takes a step forward, her eyes straying towards the Spirits of the City they had gathered.

She brings the Sai back into her jacket even as she eyes the sword on Alexander's hand. Now where did that come from and again, why does everyone get stuff out of thin air here!

"How do we fight it?" she asks of Stephen.

Lara Croft has posed:
A deep inhale is taken in and out of Lara's lungs as she watches their surroundings shift again. She looks toward the Doctor as he decrees what must be done going forward, then her eyes go to Alexander who speaks beside her. She looks to Amanda, then to Elektra before back to Alexander. "We'll protect you." She shows a hint of a grin before her stare goes again to the others in the room.

"In the face of all this madness, I must say that I'm impressed by the level of knowledge and ... seeming endless amounts of raw talent there is in this room. Whatever's to come, I'm glad to have everyone here apart of it. I've got a great deal of confidence that we'll handle this, and put these spirits to rest, where they belong."

With that said, Lara reaches for the drink that Dane had gotten her. She lifts it up, and mutters. "Needs liquor." Before sipping it.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Siobhan asks the right questions, and the uncertainties surrounding them crash and flow away. "Rather," Illyana replies to her, then looks away to Amanda with one of those straightforward nods. "I suppose this teaches us to come prepared when the time comes." Time for -what-?

That isn't ever answered, for she remains a silent observer at a lonely vigil in a mass of possibilities. She sips the tea and sets the cup aside, and the spellbound spark of a sword sends a ringing sigh through the air at its manifestation out of the depths of her own soul. The Soulsword carries with it a tangible weight, flames basking around the length of the elegantly flaming blade.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "...what are their names...?" Ariah asks, absently, then grips her staff and nearly doubles over. Her senses are sharp enough when she's hearing normal sounds, but having this creature--or creatures--clawing at her mind is a lot to bear. "Tell... us... what to do..." she winces and straightens, free hand clutching at her temple. "...the demon is normal... he's helpful..." murmurs the girl in response to Sio's mention of good old Etrigan.

Julie Yan has posed:
    "Well, crap. Guess we did just screw the pooch on this one." Julie says with a frown. "Alright, divide and conquer. That's easy enough, I guess. Suppose there's the hard part ahead of us, these things don't exactly go down through a beating." She says, flexing her knuckles pointedly as she produces fingerless gloves and begins pulling them on, tensing her hands. "I suppose we don't have a lot of time to waste, either."

Jason Blood has posed:
"All good choices, fine suggestions. In your voices, kind intentions," Etrigan murmurs, seemingly considering the options without giving a name of his own. This may be for the best, as one might not want another demon getting creative on the topic. No doubt he could come up with some /fun/ options.

Though some are used to him, it seems not all, and he hops down from his perch to land beside Siobhan. There, he sketches out of a bow, cape all a-flourish as he does. Quite the gentleman demon. "Hello there miss, no need to fear, I am friend more than foe to man. And despite all this, don't worry dear, you have an ally from below: Etrigan!"

The introduction seems to take precedence for the demon, even over the strange triplicate darkness, although perhaps he has indeed lept down to offer her some sort of chivalrous defense, his bulky frame like a wall before her, once drawn up to full height.

"I hate to say it, but it's true. Where indecision and doubt fester... the devil takes its due."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "So impatient it couldn't wait for us to make our minds up," Colette remarks with a misplaced snort of amusement. "So it's taken three of the suggestions. River, city and void. Hudson... Ohelemi? Does anyone remember all the suggestions that were made?"

    She drifts back from the crowd, leaning against a wall in the comfort of the shadows again, and sips her coffee. "Should have gone with 'Jim'," she mutters to herself.

Sera has posed:
Sera twitches a little and frowns, "I can't believe we have made this worse, because there are so many of us discussing _horrible_ concepts that we must now face. It's almost like some of you here have never named an unspeakable horror before." A little bit of snark, she's never helped name an unspeakable horror before.. and now they have to fight one.

"Count me in to fighting this monstrosity, I should have spoken up sooner instead of letting my mind wander in to the past as it so often does, thinking of the future. I cannot let something like this creature, split thrice, to ruin my perfectly laid plans."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa glances over at Siobhan for a moment before glancing around the room. "Okay, yes, spltting up should be good in this case. We can make teams, teams are good. Knowing your allies is a good idea. Maybe knowing what people are good at could help..."

Dane Whitman has posed:
"There isn't much the Ebony Blade can't kill, given the right place and time to strike, even sometimes the...abstract. But I can only be in one place." Dane speaks, what of his expression that can be seen on his face grim. "I suggested oblivion. Guess it's only fair I look into the abyss."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Under her breath Sara says with an uptick of her head to Julio, "Godfather. Suits you."

More loudly with the gauntlet sheathing her hand raised before her, she says to the room, "I can work the perimeter while the people with the skills do their thing." As if to reinforce her words a blade slides from between its layers of plated armor, the edges glinting with a blue light.

The blade is more alive than she has ever felt it. It whispers to Sara who forgets she stands in a room of strangers, magical strangers, of how it can protect against demons and their ilk.

Julio Richter has posed:
Three enemies: darkness given form, a river choked with misery, and a city stretching on forever. Julio straightens back up slowly, as they fade away and the walls of the townhouse rematerialize. His brow furrows as he considers his options -- there seems to be an obvious answer, at first, but so little of any of this has been obvious to him. His immediate instinct at the tenement, to dive into the basement, ended in disaster. The debate over names seemed harmless, the obvious next step, and turned back on them as well.

The more he thinks about it, the more certain he is. "I will help with anything but the city that never ends," he tells the group, unusually somber. "I've done enough damage to cities. More of that, and I think I'd just be bringing my own damage." That seems important, somehow, in this room of mystics and metaphors.

Stephen Strange has posed:
"The river ... the poisonous blight of industry unchecked. That is Hudson. The sprawling, endless city? That would appear to be ... Citydark," a momentary glance is paid to Zora, "And the final emptiness is the isolation all feel when alone in a crowd. The void. Mata Keku."

Turning now to the genii locorum, Strange holds out his hands. They pause for a moment, regarding him critically. Clearly judging his worth and intent. After a moment they begin to glow from within, glowing so bright that the white-hot light obscures them from view. When the light fades, the Spirits of the Five Boroughs are gone. In their place is an array of objects, settled on the otherwise empty couch.

An old stereo reminiscent of a 1980s boombox. A chunky, early model cell phone. A polaroid camera. A red bandana. A baseball bat. All of them humming with their own mystical power.

"Our armory, such as it is," the Doctor announces, turning to the group.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Coughing a little, Alexander looks over at Nessa, then back toward those around him. He shifts his weight to the other foot and says in her direction, but with a look that is perhaps a little hesitant as he murmurs. "I am, umm. Basically, the God of Fear." He scritches at his cheek thoughtfully, then uncurls that hand with fingers flaring as if it was just the most natural thing to confess to.
    "So I have that going for me. And I can kinda fight. Decently." He offers that further insight. And, to be fair, that might be a revelation to some of the people around him. Such as it is. He gives a small shrug then looks at Nessa as if to ask, 'Does that help?' Since no idea if it does.
    But then his attention is stolen by the Sorcerer Supreme and he looks on at the sudden manifestation of such objects of power. He frowns again and takes a deep breath, perhaps considering the weight of the situation before them. For once.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda's attention turns to the genii locorum as their host's does. She spares a glance for Lara, Alex, and others, her smile grateful. But she's not saying anything now, because she's trying to keep up with the nuances fluttering below the actions happening around her.

When she came to the city, she tried to attune with it. To make friends with it's spirit(s). That was impossible thanks to the Wound. Now, the idea of healing the city has her full attention. And if that means killing the Trifold Darkness, just tell her which way to go and what to do. She'll go.

Siobhan Smythe has posed:
"Oh, well, at least he is well mannered." Siobhan gestures to Etrigan with a nod and then she looks over at the others and shakes her head, "Ya know most of you are takin' dis far too well." She nods a little to Illyana before looking to Etrigan briefly and letting out a sigh and looking to what Strange is doing. Then the spirits turn into...a camera and a cell phone and...she shakes her head.

"Dis just gets progressively weirder, not necessarily better." She states simply enough and then walks over to look at those items closer and then looks up to Ariah before tilting her head, "What's your play in all dis, singer?" She asks and glances then to the others, "I'm Siobhan, by de way. To any who don't know me. Which is a lot."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah blinks as Siobhan addresses her, and the short little witch makes her way over to speak to her directly. "...I am a mage of a stripe..." she says quietly, gesturing to her staff. "...singing is a hobby of mine..." she adds, her voice soft and icy, tinted with that French accent. "...I am also a soldier. I will die standing. And this is my home," she nods towards the windows.

Julie Yan has posed:
    Julie shrugs her shoulders. "We've all dealt with this crap before, honey." She says with a teasing grin.

    Of course, at the mention of water, Julie frowns. Another body of water? She likes swimming, but her power-set isn't exactly beneficial for dealing with rivers. "Terrific. Too late for me to get scuba gear?" She says with a resigned shrug. "Guess I'll have to sacrifice -more- clothing to questionable bodies of water.

Jason Blood has posed:
Standing before the three aspects, Etrigan considers them with his usual demonic contempt:

"Muck and filth's no trouble, nor long city walls..." he murmurs, gaze tracking from one to the next, first the polluted river and then the sprawling city. "Easily I'd tear it down to rubble..." And here he finally looks at the final dark void "...yet strong the DARKNESS calls!" Something about that black abyss makes him smile, and he starts to stride forward.

"NO!" The voice is... not Etrigan's, even though his occasionally hellfire-spewing maw is the one to say it.

Suddenly, the Demon stops, clawed hands clutching at his own form, and there's something holding him back. He struggles in place, tries to step forward, and fails. "Bah, what's this now Jason, some new cowardice? Evil is my occupation, would you hold me powerless?"

So it seems like Etrigan may be having an argument with himself. Moving on.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa points at Alexander. "See, that's helpful, now everyone on your team has a vague sense of what you can handle. Uh, that's cool though. I guess you really meet all types in here." She looks around for a moment. "I'm Nessa, I do ice stuff, if you make any ice related jokes that involve singing your life is forfeit."