5942/Blasted Beasties in Battery Park

Blasted Beasties in Battery Park
Date of Scene:	14 April 2021
Location:	Battery Park City
Synopsis:	A trip of wannabe summoners get more than they bargained for. Hellspawn fight hellspawn and it is determined that demons do not like to share their toys with others.
Cast of Characters:	Stephen Strange, Camellia Lowe, Illyana Rasputina, Amora

---

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Are you sure we are going to be okay here?" The nervous prattle of an effeminate male voice breaks the silence. "I mean, we are in a public place. What if someone just walks in?"

"No one is going to walk in." The annoyance level in the female voice that rings out is clearly audible. "?The carousel is closed and the door is locked. Also, can you really see out of the windows from the center here?" The female form, a shadow upon the soft blue iridescence of the fiberglass fish behind her, raises a hand out towards where the windows would be, if it was not for the circle of artificial sea life surrounding the trio of hooded people nestled within the middle of the SeaGlass Carousel. "Because I sure as hell can't. It's perfect. And the ritual calls to be hidden in plain sight. You know this?"

"Well, yes, Angela, but?"

"No buts, Cade! And no first names! If we are able to pull this off, we will be reborn anew, with proper titles that will adequately describe who we truly are!"

The third person, certainly male, rolls his eyes. Or, at least it looks as such in the muted available light. It is obvious he is only there because his girlfriend is there, but damn, Angela was convincing. And really, that old book from the used bookstore looked real enough for him. So Scott (because of course his name is Scott) just keeps quiet, as Angela calls the shots.

First, the triangle, drawn in chalk. Then, a circle connecting the points. Angela standing at the peak, Scott and Cade on the other two points. A sharp look is given to both men from the person holding herself as high priestess. "?You remember the incantation, right?" After both men agree, she nods, and closes her eyes.

"Let us begin then."

From the outside, the murmuring of eldritch words is lost in the hustle and bustle of the city. The Battery remains busy, even with one of its attractions closed temporarily. Whatever flickers of light that may be seen can be attributed to the fiberglass creations within, bathing the darkness within the carousel with a soft pastel light. And, true to Angela's claims, there is no direct view to the center from the outside. All looks perfectly calm and normal.

At least, as normal as it would get in New York.

Camellia Lowe has posed:
Camellia Lowe perks up from within her hollowed-out den, eyes widening a little as she feels the familiar tug of forbidden energies, something particularly heightened for someone who dealt in them like her and who, well, lived in them now as well. She takes several moments trying to pin it down before getting a sense of direction. Then it takes a while more for her to summon the correct demon the hard way, making it materialize out in front of her.

With that done she steps into the flurries of black wind that had been formed, rapidly surrounding and obscuring her from view completely. With her nestled within the demon she takes off, launching off the roof of the building in the shape of a black tornado, flying directly towards the direction of the ritual. It was her chance, her big chance, the precious change to make up for all the terrible things she had to do with, hopefully, a significant amount of good.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
New Yorkers really don't know how good they have it. Truly they don't. Gorgeous riverside parks sprawling with monuments, statuary, and spaces to fling a frisbee aren't a dime a dozen. Throw in the wall of Manhattan skyscrapers over a slender shoulder and the visuals are lovely.

Illyana isn't here for the visuals. Whatever business she conducts takes place across the way of paved cobbles and hopefully greening grass. Battery Gardens' makeshift patio sprawls into the park proper and for an overpriced beer, she too can enjoy the weather and the apparent normalcy of the place.

Her teeth grit as she checks her phone. Yet again, no signs of something anticipated there. An email, a message, a reply to the flame war she's started anonymously with @AmericanJoe, could be anything. Definitely nothing to do with the uneasy Slavic woman across from her and sliding an envelope into her purse. Something wrong drags and the woman cocks her head. "It's all there?"

"It is," Illyana pushes her chair back, grabbing what passes for a purse. Tiny and black, the strap loops over her wrist. "A word of advice, Masha. Take a cab or a ferry to get out of here. Not the underground." Something tastes /off/, and so the Demon Queen of Limbo leaves the last of the unpalatable Russian imperial stout on the table as she stalks off. To hunt. To salivate over her new bank account. To call to the winds of chance to fill her sails.

Amora has posed:
Ah, New York. One of those places you can find a little bit of everything. One just needs to know where to look. Amora still gets fascinated when coming here to this place in Midgard even if she'd not admit it to anyone of course. Tonight she finds herself on the Empire Club, one of her perches as of late, leaned back in quite the luxurious sofa while enjoying a drink. One of those nights of relaxation that may just turn to perfection if a certain person or two joins in but ...

Something feels off. Magic? A disturbance?

She turns her nose, looking at her drink with a mournful look. "It does seem we shall have to meet again later, my cosmopolitan." she gets up from the sofa in what can be called 'slow-motion', just so for the patrons at the bar to watch her more properly and admire her. Attention seeker? Amora? Quite certainly!

But then she starts walking out of the club and into the cool night air, looking over and about before she begins turning towards this new source.

Stephen Strange has posed:
A sudden dust devil, black winds entwining around themselves, may cause a bit of a stir with the tourists who wander The Battery on their various sight-seeing walks. Not so much the typical New Yorker. Not because it is unusual, for yes, a self-aware cyclone is certainly unusual, but because it is simply par for the course. New York residents are made of a sterner stuff, after seeing dimensional invaders and literal gods in the streets. A little breeze? Hardly a pittance.

The whirlwind is certainly not noticed by the trio within the technicolor seascape of the closed carousel building. With eyes closed, arcane syllables spoken into the darkness, there is not much that the fledgling summoners would pick up, quite honestly. Though, as they speak, the space between them, marked within the circle of chalk, begins to take on a most decidedly orange flair. Was that a blast of heat? A flicker of flame? The words call out, and a doorway opens. Within, spirals of emerald and creatures that seemingly look human.

At least, human enough. The form is correct, but the hues are all wrong. As colourful as the false fish creations within the carousel, there are personages of lime green, aquamarine, and ruby red. Just where have these neonates opened a portal to?

The flames spark life into the building. The soft glow is overwhelmed with the brightness, the spun glass fibers of the aquatic sculptures radiating with the offered light. The threesome open their eyes, almost at the same time, and stare...dumbfounded. It....it actually worked. It actually worked! It is Cade that breaks the silence first. "Holy shi....I can't believe it. We...we...we actually did it..." The surprise catches him, causing him to take a step back...

...with his foot smudging the chalk line of the circle. The *containment* circle.

"Don't move!"

The shout comes too late from Angela. The circle is broken....It is only a matter of time before the denizens of whatever realm they opened a doorway to realize that the path is clear for them to enter.

Camellia Lowe has posed:
Camellia Lowe figures bogging down whatever invaders may come was top priority over raw power, so she unsummons her whirlwind demon. Now she could CLEARLY feel the horrendous hell energy coming from within their hiding spot, it was absolutely obvious for someone with double sensitivity for summoning rituals like this. She grunts very angrily and exhales, making her way towards the location while reaching into her pocket. She pulls out a deck of cards, separating six of them.

The cards are hurled out, causing a greyish explosion of light in mid-air, which turns into a sextet of pale, hunchback goblin-like demons. She commands them to use their heightened speed to rush over inside the location the summoning had been made and kill whatever otherwordly being might be coming out, sincerely hoping they could. She runs after them, but would only arrive some time later. Hopefully with the six of them having surprising strength for their size, enough to overwhelm a normal person, they'd be able to all jump and take down individual demons.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Deviations ring out to the Russian blonde, though she covers a few meters down the path to a roundabout separating Battery Gardens from the carousel, the Beer Garden, and the imposing East Coast Memorial for fallen sailors. A murmur comes to her lips when the demonic tempest drops into the park, a casual stirring of her fingers might be mistaken as keeping her winter blonde tresses in check. A most natural response even if the air ceases to move quite so emphatically.

The purpose links her Sight to the infernal magic, slithering tendrils springing to life like a compass needle swinging around in search of true north. Walking the circle widdershins brings her around towards Camellia, swinging into the path of the carousel.

When six hunchback forms rush free, the blonde girl darts at a burst of speed to intercept one of their forms. Her fingertips lash out in a traced circle, an erupting semicircle of a ward taking on ephemeral shape. The infernal entities themselves probably recognize the nature of the energy; a more gifted caster might have reason to recoil.

Because the protective shield blossoming in shape doesn't carry the pretty, friendly emblems of the Mystic Arts, but the infused sigils of one of the Hell-Lords. And there aren't many of those.

Amora has posed:
What first seemed as if it was just a disturbance is now clearly a distasteful feeling in her tongue. Of someone playing with things they are not ready to handle. Amateurs. But if there's one thing Amora knows is that earth is full of those. Ones that attempt to take a bigger step than they can handle. So much for humanity learning with their mistakes, eh?

A few seconds are lost with Amora self-gloating about the differences between Asgardians and these humans (Even if perhaps Asgardians should learn to stop Ragnarok SOME DAY), but eventually she leans down, drawing a teleporting rune in mystical energy on the ground before she disappears and appears not far from the occurring disturbance, hovering from above.

She watches with some interest. Demons against demons? Oh, this might turn to be more interesting than she anticipated. A faint smirk appears on her lips, perhaps anticipating this is getting close to the time in which our intrepid demon summoners get sliced to shreds. Inner sigh ... But then they wouldn't learn a valuable lesson and ..., there may be power to gain here.

Like how these people were able to open this doorway. Perhaps one of them has real power. Mmm. She starts drifting closer until that ward takes shape. She arches a brow, looking around sharply as if seeking the source, letting out a hiss..

Truly, her last few times dealing with Hell-Lords weren't nice. And if one is here..., well. Regardless, she casts a protective shield on herself, Asgardian magic trailing in the air as she reinforces herself against demonic forces. Maybe she wouldn't be a spectator in this afterall.

"You may want to start creating the containment circle again while those demons are occupied." she suggests to the group of wannabe summoners.

Stephen Strange has posed:
As cards burst into smoke and light, revealing the creatures within, it is painfully apparent that the six are fully aware of exactly what, if not who, stands in between them and the carousel, with their target within. It is enough for them to pause, clearly in contradiction to their mistress. A Hell Lord, with her mystical shield blocking access to the carousel. It is enough for anyone of a magical bent to step back and take notice.

Including high flying Asgardian sorceresses.

It is Amora's voice that catches Angela's attention. There is confusion there...did she somehow summon this flying entity? It would be almost comical if it wasn't for how absurd the thought really is. Coupled with the fact that the multi-hued infernal beasts have found the gap in the initial defenses and are rushing forward...toward freedom, towards another dimension, the poor girl is quite besides herself. Amora might as well be talking to the giant angelfish sculpture glowing a fierce red from the flames within the portal. The three haven't ran...yet...but only because there is no place for them to run. Not with demons on the outside...and soon to be demons on the inside.

But....those hellspawn escaping into the carousel? They *definitely* recognize the sigils of the Hell Lord just outside the main entrance...and they stop short. Are...they afraid? Murmurs pick up amongst them...the infernal tongue foreign to the poor souls within the building...but clear as day to others.

"It's....it's the Queen!"

"Here? How is she here?!"

"We should go back!!"

"And face *Her*? I rather take my chances with the Demon Queen!"

Camellia Lowe has posed:
Camellia Lowe frowned heavily as a bunch of sigils show up. She had, actually, very little theorical occult knowledge and pretty much everything she had was innate and intuitive abilities. Therefore she isn't sure just what she's looking at, except for the fact it was keeping her demons out. "*What* are you even doing?!" She exclaims over to the woman, using one hand to wave her demons over to the side with a glare, looking at them like they're stupid, which was fairly true.

She sends them off to start circling the barrier all the way behind the building and start climbing with their much above average agility towards the opening at the top. Someone was going to have to mop up the demons inside, and hopefully the summoners too, since she didn't know about ther unique circumstances. "Do you *want* all those demons to squirm their way out into the city and start causing a bunch of issues? We need to close the portal and kill them before too many come out." She had no idea who any of these people were, in all honesty, she was from a long time ago and she had never been one to pay attention to heroics on the new.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Camellia's incensed question earns an upturn of black lips just enough to smirk. No smile from Illyana as she balances neatly on both feet, the unquestionable stance of a fighter sizing up an opponent and fully prepared to act. "You summon demons in my city. The solution is not adding bad after worse, da?"

The spell at her fingertips bends backwards, pivoting to shelter the arcing walls painted in turquoise and topaz and azure. Goblins fleeing past are certainly measured, but that darkly amused mood deepens when she steps forward. Black armour enfolds her arm, piercing spikes dancing along her shoulder and locked down to her wrist in an unconscious response. Proof Amora has been noted long before she offers sage advice. Alas, Magik isn't quite listening to the Enchantress.

"You rather take your chances? They," a gesture to the grey hunchbacks, "are pathetically ugly."

Certainly not indicating Amora.

The words are idle, a tripping pirouette. Her retort to the worried chatter inside is to walk right up to the entrance, and lean into the entrance. "Then swear fealty." Because the nightmarish artifact lurking just out of sight burns with divine radiance, and it practically sings to be called forth. //Soon, darling. Soon.//

Amora has posed:
The confusion from Angela receives a roll of Amora's eyes. Midgardians. Useless. So much for potential on these ones! Perhaps they can provide fodder for the demons until they find a way to close the portal. See? Amora is trying to figure out ways to make these mortals useful. Yet her attention turns to focus on the demons as they speak between themselves, then to this 'Queen'. Eyes go up and down on the figure being encased by armor, then towards Camellia as if in calculation.

Or figuring where the better odds are at.

"Seems we find ourselves on the same side ..., for once." She closes her hand into a fist, green energies gathering there, "Very well."

The energy gathered is sent to one of the nightmarish creatures that was getting close to the mortals. "I am not in the habit of not having myself obeyed. So step outside, mortals." this to the three summoners still inside. "The next one that approaches you I won't intervene." threats work on mortals from her experience!

Stephen Strange has posed:
As emerald incandescence manifest itself as a searing emanation of pure magic, the cerulean hulking form of a denizen of Limbo cries out in anguish...only to fall into a pile of ash at the feet of the self proclaimed high priestess Angela. And...if that wasn't enough of a show for her, it most definitely is for her boyfriend. "Fuck this shit! I don't wanna end up as ash!" Scott dashes for the door, leaving Cade and Angela to fend for themselves. And....the sudden outburst apparently did the trick that a horde of hellbeasts and a disintegration didn't. Angela snaps to her senses, her eyes wild as they follow her paramour. "Hey! Scott!? Wait for me!!" With that, all three of them, including poor Cade dash for the door, flinging it wide open as they just dash away. The demonic ward has no effect on them as the three just dash past Illyana, giving the armored one a wide berth as they just run.

Of course, that ward has quite the opposite effect on the demons within. One of them lashes out, trying to snag the slower Cade, only to pull back it's hand in pained anguish, the seemingly human appendage morphing into a rather nasty clawed hand of only three fingers and a talon protruding from the base, almost bird-like in its appearance. Yet others have focused their attention upon the floating visage of beauty, snarling in anger, as spheres of hot plasma are thrown in Amora's direction. It is very apparent that they have no intention of retreating back to the portal that has allowed them passage. Yet others, cowed by the presence of the Mistress of Limbo, take a knee...hoping to throw themselves upon the mercies of Magik, as if that will save them.

As for the demons under the control of another....they find purchase upon the roof of the carousel. A skylight, open to the night sky, allows passage within. Grey hunchbacks, two for the moment, leap down inside, landing upon beings of emerald and turquoise, performing the very function that their own mistress has commanded....to thrash them soundly. The cacophony of fighting is almost deafening inside the carousel proper.

Camellia Lowe has posed:
Camellia Lowe lets out a relieved sigh when two of her demons make it inside at least, and with Illy busying herself with getting more followers she figured the ones that resisted were free game. She particularly loved killing demons, a lot more than most, but perhaps not the most of all. That was due to how much she hated the one that 'lived inside her' as she called it.

She grins to herself as she sends more commands to her demons, urging them to hurry their useless pale asses into the carousel area and start trying to gouge out throats, stab guts and slash eyes of whatever demons didn't bow to Illy. She didn't really make much of it, figuring it was just another demon user getting more demons to use. If only she was able to do it so easily, but she was still inadequate at the art of summoning. She doesn't try playing with the barrier after seeing the demon burn itself, she figured she would not fair better, nor did she have much reason to go inside.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"You who bow, stay behind me." Illyana will deal with portaling them 'home' to Limbo later. Her command comes with the utter authority, unyielding and certain she will be obeyed. For the carrot of survival and implicit violence, of course, comes the stick.

It so happens the stick is a four-foot long blade of searing white-gold light bracketed by slender black barbs that match her forked crown. The Soulsword no sooner takes shape from nothingness than its intangible blade ignites, and she already sweeps it up into a vicious guard while whirling. The ward no longer holds her focus, its sustaining energy sealed off in a crackle of fire, though it won't die immediately. She pays no immediate heed to the mortals fleeing past her, only the demons in her midst. Amora's plasma bursts she avoids, but the Demon Queen's swordplay is a visceral dance incorporating finesse over raw strength to reach infernal flesh. She moves in explosive bursts, raw efficiency unleashed in a thrusting slash that cuts up or guts through.

Where that flame-soaked relic is involved, it doesn't matter; the Soulsword was crafted above all as an instrument meant to check mystical beings. Planar creatures stand about as much of a chance as a dirt farmer against Arthur, King of the Britons, in a chorus line. The blade flashes, bypassing mortal flesh effortlessly, cutting down magic and demonic essence in seething radiance. Ra, ra, Rasputin, Limbo's greatest death machine. o/`

Amora has posed:
A brief sigh escapes Amora's lips, the Asgardian looking at the fleeing humans. Better late than never. But they are out of the way, and perhaps she will be able to find one or another in the future..., if they prove to have any kind of power. Though something else seems at play here. Regarding this other /her/ they were talking of.

"And perhaps you can tell us who you fear besides the Queen here." a brief nod towards Illyana while her eyes stay on the demons, using her gift of allspeak to speak the demonic tongue. It does taste a bit foul on the tongue but .., sacrifices do need to be made sometimes. "Must be someone important, mmm?" and she did love racking up enemies, specially in the Hell realms. She had two already and counting!

She casts a look up as Camellia's demons enter and start wreaking havoc along with Yana, then back to the demons. A tsk. "You demons better decide fast." she says, "Your numbers are dwindling all too fast."

Another blast sent to take out a demon who was running at her.

Stephen Strange has posed:
While it is not a vorpal blade, the Soulsword went snicker-snack, and the result was the same regardless. Demons who refused to take the knee found themselves on both, minus the convenience of having a head upon their body. Watching the descendent of Rasputin is truly a sight to behold. Lethality and beauty in equal measure. It is almost enough to win more subjects over to Illyana's side. Almost.

But...then *She* speaks. And Amora's inquiry is answered.

The shimmering light from the flames of Limbo, for surely that is the dimension the fledgling summoners reached, darkens somewhat as a figure stands at the doorway. But only at...not through. The voice is allure in auditory form, a near perfect pitch of sensuality and longing that makes all but the strongest of will stop to regard the speaker. And the form? If it was possible to be more captivating than the Enchantress herself (to Amora's chagrin), this...this would be it. Hair cascades down the small of her (most definitely a she) back. Is it blonde? Or brunette? How about auburn? Whatever colour the viewer desires, that is the colour they see. Dressed in white, the female speaks, a finely manicured hand resting upon her waist.

"Now, who left this door open? If I didn't know any better, I would think that my dear servants are trying to leave me. But, you wouldn't *possibly* dream of doing that, now would you?"

To those not native to Limbo, this new figure radiates power. For Illyana? That voice is all too familiar. Yet, the newcomer continues on as if there is no one else more important than herself. "Now then, my lovelies. Do come back to me. We have much to do and I need you so."

And...the fighting stops. Those that have not swore fealty to the Queen in their presence feel the pull. The urge to please...the need to make this new personage happy. And, they do as they are told. They start retreating back to the portal, as the personification of beauty just on the other side of the portal smiles brightly, ushering them all back with joy. "That's my dears. Come back to me."

Eyes that shift in hue look up, and catch the Russian, in her black barbed crown. And...the impossibly beautiful form smiles. She *knows* Illyana. "Ah, your Majesty." The phrase is spoken in a sort of lilt...definitely tongue in cheek. It is apparent she does not think so highly of Magik. "I do apologize for my servants. I really have no idea why they would ever want to leave me. But, really, I do wish you will cease in the destruction of my property. After all, these are my playthings...and I do not like to share." A glance over to Amora earns the Asgardian a soft giggle. "Oh, look at you! How quaint. I give you points for trying, though you are still a bit homely." Then...a glance towards the grey demons earns a wrinkling of her nose in disgust. "Bleah! Oh, you can keep those. I prefer my possessions to have a bit more panache. At least some colour."

A pause. "Now, if you would excuse me, I need to go replenish my toybox, after you so rudely broke my playthings." With that, the form that could have passed for an angel waves her hand absently....and the portal snaps shut with an audible click.

Camellia Lowe has posed:
Camellia Lowe kind of caught most of it by leaning closer to the barrier at the door and really focusing, it was ominous for sure. She didn't really like anyone here, Illy or Amora, or the three idiots, or that other demon(?). It made her feel all prickly inside, and so did the demon within her, for one particular reason. He could clearly recognize the force of compulsion behind that woman's voice. And *he* was the force of compulsion. Or at least he used to be several thousands of years ago. It seemed his seat got toppled, then again he was also not from that particular dimension. Still, that made him upset, which was a rare mood for the thing that rarely liked to get directly involved.

Snapping her fingers, all her demons poof into a flash of grey light, cards being revealed for a moment before they flutter back into her hands, needing to be recharged. She seems to forget about the others for the time being as she sort of hangs her head low a little bit and frowns. "How should I know? Well, I don't really care now, do I? The portal's closed anyways, you sure as hell can't open it, do you even think you could do anything about it stuck like you are? Yes, I know. Yes. No. Well, do you see any lying around?" She whispers to herself on a fairly long conversation, not bothering too much about the other results, the portal was closed and the demons were dead. That was what she had come for.

Amora has posed:
The newcomer has Amora lifting a golden brow. Now, now, someone is trying to steal her schtick. Fairest of the nine realms? Still her! Not this ..., demon. Amora lifts her chin as if in defiance of the other woman's beauty. "Quaint, is it?" she snorts out of a perfectly-shaped nose. "At least I am not the one going after my lost strays like a good, nice sheep herder." There. Demon compared to a sheep herder. Payback for being called homely!

Crystal blue eyes are flaming hot now though at this demon's impudence. But then the portal is closing and she looks at the remaining ones, specifically Illyana and Camellia, "Who was this? Seems you are acquainted.." is she asking to any of them in specific?

Yes, it seems like she still wanted to have words with this demon in the future. Or perhaps something other than words.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Good as her word, Illyana does not immediately wheel around on the summoned demons cowering wisely after accepting her rule. That sort of behaviour leaves a bad reputation on infernal social media channels. Devils, demons, and fallen powers take umbrage to messy betrayals for no reason!

That puts her in a fine position to sense the energy bleeding through the dimensions and lock onto the angelic form shaped by a ring of flame.

She straightens, the Soulsword proof of office and open threat both as she sweeps it up to stand between herself and that unbearably pretty woman. Scintillating fire laps the edges, brightening from a sunny gold to Wolf-Rayet blue, intensifying through the spectrum over a few breaths. She holds it with that blackened smirk on her lips, a promise spoken in so few words. "Neither do I."

A change in inches would be enough for her to whip the sword tip over hilt, hard as she can, right for the smiling woman's chest. It's practically primed to do so, until the portal shuts. As if that thin rent in space-time has any impact at all, so close and so very far.

"She is a banker," she replies to Amora, voice vibrating with contempt. And so it would be; she's Russian by accent, and everyone knows what Russians thought of the wealthy and bourgeoisie for the past near century. Those burning eyes shift to Camellia, a brief acknowledgment shown. "Wise for you to run. You withdrew the darkness, and I will not forget it."