6899/Weekly Weirdness: Hansel and Gretel

Weekly Weirdness: Hansel and Gretel
Date of Scene:	16 July 2021
Location:	Forest Upstate
Synopsis:	The heroines save the kids! John's cranky.
Cast of Characters:	John Constantine, Morrigan MacIntyre, Zatanna Zatara, Rien D'Arqueness, Meggan Puceanu

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John Constantine has posed:
    Anyone that answered Constantine's call, it was short notice, maybe an hours ago short notice. Those able to sense the weirdness and follow is lead, well, the disturbance started about four hours ago and grew steadily more pronounced, louder and more attention grabbing as time passed.

    The Laughing Magician himself is currently standing in front of what looks, from a distance, to be just a small mound on the ground in the middle of a forest in Upstate New York. People with the ability to see such things, can't mistake his specific magical signature because even visually, it's more like a stench - all darkness and questionable deeds mingled with the brightness of the power itself.

    He squats down to investigate something on the ground near that mound.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Upstate Forests? Morrigan's parents own a lot of land along with things up there. Which means that she felt something weird in the middle of dinner and told them she needed to head home early. The redhead shows up in the shadows and is still wearing her sunglasses. "I was sorting hoping it was Bigfoot or the Jersey Devil on vacation." the Irish woman muses as she watches the back of Constantine's head.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The magic cavalry to the rescue! It won't be the first, and Zatanna doubts it will be the last time she answers John's call. He didn't seem drunk. A plus, certainly.

Opting for her all-terrain look, the mage is sensibly dressed in long black pants, riding boots, and a fitted black jacket over a white blouse - sans top hat. She can always call one if she feels the need.

A faint wind announces her arrival; the magic portal closes behind her. She recognizes him immediately, no one else has that particular whiff of sulphur and myrrh about them. Cautiously, because one never knows around Constantine, she approaches what appears to be a mound. As she approaches another magical signature flares in the darkness. Zatanna imagines she hears a Celtic harp playing and knows the woman waiting in the shadows.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
The disturbance caught Rien's attention in the city, and it's the matter of only a quick teleport spell to bring her to the site of the disturbance. For anyone present at the site, there's a silent burst of light and then a blonde figure steps out of thin air, looking around warily. Spotting three other people in the immediate area, she narrows her eyes a little before speaking.

"So, I'm not the only one. I assume none of you are the cause of this, but rather looking into it?" She is, despite the weather, dressed in what would look like rather uncomfortable clothing, leather pants mostly obscured by soft boots that rise above the knee and a leather bustier, all in white. Somehow, she's not sweating, but looks as comfortable as anyone investigating a magical disturbance out of nowhere could be.

John Constantine has posed:
    "Not as far as I know," he replies to Rein. Seriously, does he ever know for sure what he might have been responsible for the last time he pulled a hail Mary? What the butterfly effect might have been? No.

    John's attire is the same as it always is. The man either owns one outfit or twenty of the same. The only difference with him is that he actually looks just a little more worn out than usual. ...at least spiritually... and that's saying something.

    In the distance, way off in the distance, there's a search party desperately calling out the names of the missing kids; five of them. Lincoln, Leighton, Taylor, Haley and Joey.

    "Best I could gather, the tots are all under the age of ten," he murmurs from his position, still squatting. "...and I'm thinking we should start looking down there," he pulls aside a mound of tangled vines and foliage to reveal a hole in the ground; a rather large ones as holes go. Bigger than a rabbit hole for sure, big enough for someone John's size to barely fit through. With his other hand, he holds up a child's toy, a little girl's doll - one of those Polly Pocket sized things they tend to pack around with them.

    "Tracks leadin' from that way, just the wee ones, no one else, stop here..." Right in front of that damned hole. ...that angles about seventy degrees down, like a slide, the sides unnaturally smooth. It's impossible to see the bottom, but when John tosses a round rock down, it rolls and rolls and rolls until the sound of it rolling fades into nothing. It's deep.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan's met only one person here, and when Rien went to save Hellboy along with others it was a brief meeting. The redhead gives the others a dip of her head, "I'm going to guess we aren't the only ones that felt this. So might have others incoming." she states as she slides her hands into her pockets. "What's up with things this year and kidnapping. We're over the kidnapping thing this year." she frowns deeply at this. Then she looks where the rock went and there's a soft sigh, "Do we have any clue what might have snatched them? Human, cryptid...cannibal?" she doesn't stop frowning at that.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You look like you have been burning the candle at both ends, John," Zatanna murmurs with a sideways glance as she kneels next to him. The anxiety in the voices calling names in the middle of the forest is troubling. There is no greater grief than to lose a child, it doesn't need to be spoken aloud.

Zatanna looks back over her shoulder at the next arrival, nettled at the take charge attitude of the woman in the white bustier. Ah, the French and their inimitable ways.

"No," she replies, keeping the irritation to herself, "none of us did this."

Shaking her head, she leans forward to look down into the darkness, "We are going down there aren't we?"

Standing up and dusting off her hands, she looks at the other assembled mages. "Cast or do what you do best to find the cause of this."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
A famed environmental activist in the woods hardly stands as anything new. Meggan has shown up to protest her fair share of developers trying to flatten a woodland for a coal mine or shiny new towers. But upstate New York isn't the hotbed it wasn't once so it makes for a clear excuse why she might show belatedly.

Meggan simply is one moment, no sign of teleportation or a portal giving her away. Spells aren't there, but the breeze that evaporated a light humidity is no longer quite so present except right beside her. It toys with her golden hair, the band t-shirt cut on the bias over her hip. "Luvs," she murmurs softly, fingers curling in a sunny greeting. Rich with a smile and curious look, she flits across the ground to observe just what John might be up to, the other women equally of interest. A moment of those green eyes regaining their pupils is purely accidental.

For certain, kids in trouble? It's cause for concern, but she's quiet for now.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien raises an eyebrow and approaches the revealed passage, murmuring under her breath as she does. Gesturing at the opening, she releases a spell designed to detect demonic energies. Always check for what you know best first, after all. After a moment's consideration, she purses her lips and says, "I'm getting a faint hellish signature, but it's not strong or definite. Could just be distance, it's difficult to pin down."

She takes a moment to cast another spell, this one bringing a shield of force into being just over her skin. "Unless anyone has a better idea, I'm thinking at least some of us are going to end up going down there. I'd be just as happy not jumping into a dark hole in the ground, so do speak up if you have a better option."

John Constantine has posed:
    "When did candles start havin' one end, luv?" John asks of Zatanna. Really, he always thought they had at least four. Nothing about John Constantine has EVER spoken to a sense of caution, or even self-preservation really. Not in the immediate moment anyway. He always tends to ask forgiveness rather than permission from the cosmos and try to bargain his way back to personal safety after the fact.

    Meggan's arrival is noted, oh it's noted. It's noted with a glance in her direction and then quickly away again. It's the look of a man avoiding what might be a very powerful issue, maybe even an emotional one. Does he have those? Emotions?

    Therefore, it should come as no surprise to anyone when he mutters, "Only way down is down..." Before he shifts, slips himself feet first into what looks like a giant, earthen pool slide, and tells Morrigan, "No idea..." ... and Rein, "On it, luv..." And then he just lets go.

    *WOOOSH* Weeeeeee!

    No really, he doesn't make a sound on the way down and there's no sound from the hole for a long, long, long, long, really bloody long, time after. In fact, there just... isn't one, ever, not even if the girls wait around until dawn to hear one. But John's probably somewhere hoping they don't do that waiting until dawn thing.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan's silent for the most part. Not wanting to step on toes or misstep with folks. She does give a look to the others. Then to where John has gone, "He really is as crazy as the rumors say." she muses. Then she makes her way into the darkness as well, because she was guessing the kids were down the hole. "If this goes into some creatures gullet just give everything to my cat." she mutters to nothing in particular.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
With the instincts of an ex, Zatanna catches the look he throws at Meggan. The devil. When will she learn to have no sympathy for the devil? It's purely rhetorical. She looks at the newly arrived woman with pity, she'll reserve the chagrin for the devil.

"Oh, he is as crazy as they come and dangerous. I speak from experience." That brings a complicated smile to her lips.
RTurning to look back down the hole, "Well, I'm not traveling in the dark." If I am going to act like Mary Poppins then I'll just travel like her, any irritation turned on herself now.

".losarap a em eviG !thgil em eviG" (Give me light. Give me a parasol.)

A parasol appears with a lantern dangling from an inside spoke. Zatanna takes the handle and primly disappears downward.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Watching the unkempt man hop down the hole without any preparation gives Rien a moment's pause. When Morrigan and then Zatanna follow, she shrugs, "Well, so much for other ideas. Personally, I prefer a little more control."

Another spell is cast, and she rises slightly from the ground before moving to the hole and lowering herself into it. She lets herself go down it at nearly a falling pace, not wanting to take hours inching downwards. As the darkness encloses her, she holds one hand in front of her body and a set of claws extend from her knuckles. Glowing blue with enchantment, they provide just a small amount of illumination, but it's enough to at least see a little.

John Constantine has posed:
    There's a moment when a person is sliding down a tunnel in black so pitch a hand can't be seen in front of a face when they wonder if they're just going to keep sliding forever, until time ends and everything ceases to exist save them and the tunnel. Even those with a lighted way will begin to wonder.

    It's that precise moment when the tunnel ends. Coming out the other end of the thing has a brief, moment of what can only be described as supreme discomfort. It isn't painful, but more like disconcerting, like a *pop* after feeling the pressure of pushing through something membranous. Birth canal comes to mind, but it's not slimy and John really would rather not think about it.

    It's neither here nor there though. Really, it's here, but it's *definitely* not *there*. The one thing immediately noticeable is that everything in this... wherever this is? It's made of fairy-tale.

    The trees surrounding them now are HUGE, their leaves a hue of green totally unnatural, the lowest branch miles above their heads, trunks the size of houses. The grass beneath them is a near matching shade of green. The moonlight that shines through those trees does offer some light, more than a moon should in fact, but it's still clear that they've arrived in the dead of night in this most unusual place.

    Wind rustles the leaves and grass, stones scattered in the grass are smooth and faceted like little gemstones. Everything is symmetrical in a bizarre, off putting fashion, more like the pages of a book than anything real.

    "I'm guessing this isn't Kansas anymore, aye?" John mutters to everyone and no one as he pushes himself up off his ass, the one he fell on when that tunnel spat him out like a newborn babe. He shudders off that experience and locks it away on the shelf in his head labeled: Stuff we never think on again. It's a big shelf.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan lands on her feet, much like a cat does after flailing off it's favorite spot in the middle of the night. She gives an 'oof' though at the look of the place. "This is fae propaganda at its finest." the Irish woman states quietly, but it's not a bad thing. "And ah...probably not. I'm just wondering which faerie we're about to piss off by telling them we need to pass through here." she tells John.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna stumbles out of the tunnel, taking a few running steps with her umbrella held high over her head. Then, blinking from the sensation of having been squeezed into a new world, she comes to a dead stop and turns in place - pure disbelief battles with delight on her face.

The moon is too bright, the trees are too large. Fairie. "You have that right! Now, where is the Wicked Witch or the Cold Queen?"

With a wave of her offhand the parasol poofs out of existence.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Levitating down the tunnel means that once she reaches the end, Rien is upright and floating just a fraction of an inch above the unnaturally green grass of this realm. The claws are now held a bit away from her body, like one would hold out a torch or other light source.

"Well, this is interesting. Certainly starting out looking nicer than what I normally deal with, but I don't doubt the ugliness will show up soon enough. It does always seem to." She kneels down and sniffs near the place the tunnel spit them all out, trying to see if she can pick up the scent of humans other than the ones here right now, in an attempt to begin tracking the children.

John Constantine has posed:
    There's one path heading off north. John's never been one to take the beaten path tough. He tries to move east, through the trees after one glance at that path had him grumbling, "Bugger that trap." As if he didn't just slide down the biggest trap of them all already?

    He steps out of the little clearing, vanishes and then... comes tumbling out of the sky to land hard on his back right beside Zatanna. Winded, but not otherwise injured, he stares up at the sky with its too perfect stars and that bright moon and spits out, "Bullocks."

    Anyone else want to have a go at going anywhere BUT that path?

    He pushes himself up to at least a seated position, one hand on the ground behind him, the other one reaching for the Silk Cut tucked behind his ear. How in the name of all that's UnHoly that thing stays there through *anything* is anyone's guess. He must have a minor pact with a demon to keep it there. When he tries to summon a little hell fire at his fingertips to light the thing?

    Well, tiny little fireflies dance on the air around his fingers instead. "...REALLY?!" he bellows... at no one... and everyone.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
"You okay there, Constantine?" Morrigan asks as he finds himself on the ground. Then there's a look to Zatanna, "Yeah...I'm not one to tread over their grounds. Let's hope it's something posing as a Fae." she states a bit wistfully. "I think we've got only one choice on where to go, sadly. So...I guess I can go first this time." she offers.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Someone is forcing our hand." Puzzled, Zatanna narrows her eyes suspiciously first at a nearby tree and then at John. "Did you just try to light your cigarette and it not work? We might have just a bit of trouble in the offing." With a nod to herself, she casts,".htap wen a nepO"

Nothing happens.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
With a chuckle, an actual lighter is pulled from a belt pouch and offered to the disgruntled magician. "See if lighter fluid works here." Looking to the others, she adds, "Smells like the kids, not surprisingly, took the path. So I guess we play along for now and see what whoever put this little fairyland together has in mind.

When Zatanna's spell fails after John's, she glances down at her claws, "Might end up being a good thing I came along, these aren't purely magical." A matching set of claws extends from the knuckles of her other hand as well, and she starts to drift in the direction of the path... for a second, then shoots off to the left at high speed.

Stopping just short of slamming into one of the huge tree trunks, she curses in French and speaks a word, her feet dropping to the ground. As she walks back to the group she comments, "Apparently magic is going to be unpredictable, at best. Annoying, but we'll have to work with it."

John Constantine has posed:
    He pushes himself to his feet fishes for a more traditional way to light his smoke, a Bic... where in God's name his usual, favored Zippo is, well that's anyone's guess. But he no sooner gets it out and Rien's offering up her own. "Thanks, luv," he mumbles before shoving that offensive, PINK - it's probably nicked off some bartop somewhere - Bic he'd pulled out.

    "Feels like someone's writin' the story for us, dunnit, luv?" John murmurs around that smoke once it's lit.

    "All right then, I guess we all go that way?" A beat before he adds, "Two at time." The path's wide enough for just that, so if doin' so separates us, none of us are left on our lonesome, aye?"

    He glances at Zatanna, an attempt to gauge her current mood in regards to him, but women are a mystery and even more so ones that might feel scorned, so he points at Rien. "I'll go with her." Not chancing Z leaving his ass behind!

    So, with a trepidation growing in the pit of his stomach and one last wary glance at Zatanna, he heads... that way, motioning Rien to come along with him.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Smart man. Smart in all the wrong places when it comes to people that aren't con artists and criminals at heart like he is. Zatanna wants to walk with Morrigan. At least, /she/ has more sense than a wet toadstool.

"I'd rather Morrigan and I walk together as it is." Something in the silence of the giant trees around them, makes Zatanna want to whisper. Forcing herself to talk normally to the woman by her side, "Now, what kind of spell quashes other mages' spells, I ask you?" That is not some hedge witch's work."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien tucks the lighter back in her pouch when John has his cigarette lit then shrugs, "Works for me. Either way, we're pretty much stuck going to the same place." She takes a few steps, then turns and adds, "Oh, since we're doing this as a group, I'm Rien D'Arqueness. Probably easier to call me Rien than 'hey you' if things get chaotic."

Any French speakers might find this a bit of a strange name as 'rien' means 'nothing'. Clan D'Arqueness is fairly well known in the mystic world as one of the more powerful magical clans, based in France, amazingly enough.

Looking to Zatanna, she shrugs and says "I can think of a number of things that can supress magic, I'd venture a guess we're in some kind of pocket realm where the creator sets the rules. Hopefully it's not stacked too terribly against us."

John Constantine has posed:
    Con-artist and criminal, yet he's *here* without a care to himself to save a bunch of kids he's never met. John'd never admit it, but somewhere in that chest of his beats a good heart - even if the lungs are right and properly fucked.

    When they all step onto the path they're being forced onto, it might feel a little like the noose is tightening around their necks when... the way behind them closes off abruptly. With each step they take, the trees fill in where they once walked.

    "Ever wonder what an inmate's last walk down death row feels like? Me either, not anymore." Once again, the words are spoken aloud but it seems they're likely for no one and everyone at the same time.

    "A spell tha..." And then it hits him like a ton of bricks. "Bloody HELL." He turns to look over his shoulder at Zatanna. "Find the kids, someone has to rewrite the book!" He has that *look*, the one that Z knows all too well, the one that makes a person instantly want to shout, 'John don't!'. That wild-eyed, about to pull a hail Mary *look* But he never gives them the time does he? To shout. "Don't worry, luv, I'll make you look good," he adds with a wink in his ex's direction. He offers Rien a lopsided grin and, "Constantine, John Constantine," before he cuts right abruptly and steps off the path. This time, he's ready for it. Or maybe it was ready for him? Is he alive, dead, did he get turned into a toad, is that owl hooting in the distance him? Will they ever know? Will they ever see him again? All those questions are left with the women, along with the most important task of all... find those kids.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
"It does feel a bit like that." Morrigan murmurs after Constantine comments on it. She continues to walk with Zatanna though, but when there is talk of book rewriting there's a concerned look, "Do...do we want him rewriting a book?" she whispers. Was it a kids book?! We'd have issues. "I can help with kids if you'd like." she offers to the others.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Zatanna Zatarra. Delighted to meet you." The old world predominates tonight with the Scots, Irish, French, and in Zatanna's case, Italian ancestry through a long line of Homo Magi.

"A pocket realm. Indeed." The mage taps a finger to her chin, peering into the moonlit alleys between the trees, humming barely audible to herself, a famous Edith Piaf song, "Non, je ne regrette..."

The song is abruptly cut-off with John's maniac declaration. Oh, she knows that look all too well and hopes that they all live not to regret it.

"All things holy...Do we split up or stay together and go for the children? It looks like John has hared off with barely an explanation."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
As John is hit by.. inspiration? madness? perhaps some combo of the two, Rien can only watch him vanish off the path. Turning to the other two, she shrugs, "Well, so much for keeping to pairs. I'd say we should probably continue on and try to find the children and hope whatever idea took him haring off was a good one. There's no way of telling if we'd even end up in the same place he went if we stepped off the path."

Setting action to words, she turns back to the path before them and continues down it, sniffing now and then to make sure the scent of the children is still there and they aren't being sent off on a wild goose chase.

John Constantine has posed:
    The path still looms in front of them, the woods surrounding the trio... but the moonlight above fades when John leaves the path. A dark, sinister feeling of foreboding replaces what was once just 'weird' while not being overly terrifying.

    It takes a moment, three, four... five... maybe up to ten, before each woman, previously empty handed, will find themselves holding something.

    Zatanna an ivory wand.

    Rien a silver sword.

    ...and Morrigan a wooden staff, it's end a fist sized, purple gemstone.

    What's more, they each have a complete understanding, suddenly, of their role in the story. The mage, the warrior and the healer.

    The shadows in the trees seem to reach out toward them now as they walk along that path, menacing, threatening.

    Eventually though, all paths must come to an end, as this one does. It dumps them out into a clearing void of all but the tiniest sliver of moonlight. At the center is a little gingerbread house, smoke billowing from its chimney and a hint of warm light from behind the curtained windows.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan gives a look to the surroundings, "Honestly, we'd probably do better not to split up. If things prove that we can handle them without being a group then we'd probably be fine to go on different paths." she states. There's a look to the staff that pops into her hands, "Ummm...yes...yes universe I get it. I'm the cleric." she laughs. When the shadows stretch out towards them the red head gives a bit of a growl to them.

Then they come to a gingerbread house. She stops. There's a look to Zatanna and Rien, "I...do you guys also see a gingerbread house?" she frowns.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
A wand, not just any wand, but a wand with the heft of old ivory from a magical beast, appears in Zatanna's hand. She holds it up in the moonlight, mouth half open in awe like a child enthralled by a fairy story. Looking down at herself, she is only moderately surprised by the feel of a red cape swirling from her shoulders over a long diaphanous skirt that falls to the top of her instep.

"Yes," she replies transfixed by the ginger smell and icing curlicues adorning the house. "It's /that/ house. Hansel and Grethel's house. This is Holda's land, if I have it right." With a bemused smile at Morrigan, "Cleric? Then I'm the Mage. Holy hell."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
As the sword appears in her hand, Rien pauses just a second, then understanding hits. With a shrug, she retracts the claws on her sword hand, but leaves the others extended. Never bad to have an offhand attack, after all. "Which makes me the warrior. Funny, I don't recall an adventuring party in this particular tale, I guess he found a pen somewhere. Hope he remembers to write the part where we rescue the kids and all escape to our world." She look at Zatanna with a little smile, "Remember, no fireballs in enclosed spaces with the party."

Hefting the sword to get a feel for it's balance, she steps forward towards the gingerbread house, shaking her head a little, "I certainly didn't expect to be in a fairy tale today. At least life doesn't get boring."

John Constantine has posed:
    Little off there Zatanna, it's the *witch's* house.

    The moonlight fades to nothing as rolling storm clouds move in to cover it. Lightning flashes in the sky. The windows of the little house go dark, the gingerbread and icing mold and rot before their eyes.

    From the surrounding trees, red eyes watch - one set, two, three, four ... more - the growls from the shadows of those trees sound canine, wolfish perhaps.

    When the beasts from the forest make their move, it's one leap, that's all it takes to put the dire wolves between themselves and the little party.

    Pen found or not, a story simply cannot be written without conflict and obstacles to be overcome.

    "I'll have them all for dinner and my pets will have you!" cackles a woman's voice from inside that rotting little house.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
"They are at least typecasting correctly." Morrigan muses about who is writing...or leading this adventure. "We'll have to trust that Constantine is doing what he can to write a happy ending for this...otherwise we're going to lose some kids." she frowns. She read the real Grimm's tales. They were horrible.

The appearance of the dire wolves makes her look to them warily, "Alright...we've no trouble with you. We just want to stop your mistress." she tells them. Then her eyes are drawn in the direction of the cottage, "We'll have to get through her wolves first I'm guessing." she states as she points the staff at the dire wolves.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Death in sickening fumes roils off the gingerbread house. The facade falls, and Zatanna feels her gorge rise. "This is not Holda's land but something else."

The red eyes and slavering mouths prompt one word from the Mage as the creatures poise themselves to spring.

"!!!ezeerF"

The creatures stop, suspended in mid-air. Unfair, perhaps, but it will make ending them infinitely more manageable.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Well, guess this would be where my job starts." She stares at the lead wolf for a moment, letting her own predator instincts come to the fore, sniffs at the air, then with a growl she launches herself forward, expecting the wolves to close with her. When Zatanna's spell actually works, she doesn't hesitate. Her claws rip out the throat of one wolf while the sword plunges into the chest of a second. Spinning, the claws and sword shear through two other helpless wolves as well.

Shaking gore from both sword and claws, she says, "There's the demonic stench. I knew they were here somewhere." She stays between any remaining wolves at the other two, taking her role to heart.

John Constantine has posed:
    The wolves do freeze and are cut down.

    It might be that moment when it becomes clear that, where ever that crazy bastard got off to, John is actually struggling to 'rewrite the story'. It's easy to imagine him battling it out with someone or something, mental or physical, to simply put pen to paper when...

    Two of the four cut down, just stand back up again. One of them? Well, it's head hangs all lopsided off it's ripped out throat and it gurgles now instead of growling, but it's up and jaws snapping. The other one that reanimates is the one with the chest wound. It's that latter one that springs into action first, attempting a leap over Rien's head to take out Morrigan. Always take the healer out first, right?

    From inside the house, a child's cry is joined by another, then another. "Help us! Please!"

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan sighs with relief when the dire wolves are frozen and cut down, "Now we can just get to the..." she's cut off by the sound of the gurgling and she feels nauseous for a moment. Because it reminds her of the sound James was making the last time she saw him. It catches her off guard. There is a growl that comes from something else as a mass of shadows, bigger than the wolves descendds on the one that was going to go after Morrigan. There's the wet sound of bone snapping and the tear of flesh as blood splatters to the ground.

Out of that darkness walks a very huge dog with umber colored eyes, "Got em'." it chuffs out to the group as it trundles over to sit at Morrigan's side. "The children!" Morrigan hisses out when she hears them.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The following spell is easy. Yet, Zatanna knows she will pay for it dearly. If the pieces reanimate, then she must render them harmless. Wielding death has a price.

Holding the wand high before her, she sweeps it at the attacking wolves. A momentary look of surprise animates the wolve's faces, even the decapitated head,

"!edolpxE" She commands!

They do. In an awful bloody cataclysm.

Wiping the gore from her eyes, she echoes Morrigan, "The children!"

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien was, of course, next to those bodies, being the one who killed them the first time. Let's just say there isn't a lot of white left on her outfit at the moment. She winces and pulls a bone fragment from her shoulder, the wound closing on it's own as soon as she does so, wipes the ick out of her eyes, and heads for the house.

Feeling to real need to repeat what the other two have already said, she simply strides up to the door and attempts to kick it open, sword at the ready.

John Constantine has posed:
    The children indeed. They're screaming and crying, obviously terrified. Darkness descends full on the little clearing when the storm clouds completely block out what's left of the moonlight.

    But stars appear beneath the clouds, burning brightly if not as bright as the moon. He's trying, damnit!

    Under the dim light of the stars, the 'witch' steps from the house. Just before the Rien gets her chance. "My pets!" she screeches as she levels her own wand, a gnarled piece of wood, but nonetheless impressive for it, at the one she finds standing *right there*. If Rien doesn't move or act quickly, she'll find herself not turned to a toad or struck down by lightning, but transformed into... a replacement for one of the 'witch's' wolves.

    But that ain't no witch. Rien would know, no doubt she would know... that right there is a demon. Unnamed as of the moment, but a demon, the stench obvious now that its left the protective barrier of the house.

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan gives a look to Riordan when he appears from the shadows and there's a shake of her head, "Thank you for the assist." she nods to him. Then she's heading for the house. Even as the door opens and the 'witch' comes out, "Lady, this is not the year to be fucking with kids. So get out of my way and let us return them to their rightful homes. Or else." she growls at her. Rio joins in with the growling.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Fatigue descends on Zatanna like a black pall. It makes seeing difficult, she takes a step toward the demon, and it is like walking through a lake of tar. But, even killing evil has its price, and she pays it now when she is needed.

Fighting the fatigue, she lifts her wand, calling on the other women Mages in the clearing, "Banish it. I need your help to banish it." The two of them appear limned in starlight to her as she implores their help.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rein actually smiles as the 'witch' steps out of the house. "Oh, well, there's your final mistake. I've been trained to kill your kind since I was 5." The magic from the witch's wand is actually parried by the enchanted claws on her left hand in a blur of motion. Confronted with a demon, she drops the sword and extends her claws from the other hand as well, slamming them forward into the demon's abdomen and ripping upwards. Enchantments wrought over years specifically for the killing of demons should allow the claws to rip into demonic flesh with ease, and at the same time, she begins chanting in Enochian, a spell designed to banish demons to their home plane.

Demons are her primary prey, and most of her arsenal of both weapons and spells are designed to deal with exactly these beings, so at the moment at least, she looks fairly confident as she pours power into the banishment.

John Constantine has posed:
    As Rien starts with the chanting, from time to time, a word or two might come out than's different than what she thought she'd planned on saying.

    He's trying damnit!

    When the spell is over, there's incredible flash of light, there's no big bang or fanfare or fire. There's just a simple *POP* of a sound and, in the final moments before the thing is gone, its true form is revealed.

    ... a two foot tall, cloven footed, green skinned, almost impish looking thing. Of course, given the amount of power it had to take to create this place, it's obviously not an imp.

    Thunder and lighting boom and flash overhead and the entirety of the forest rumbles and shakes as if it's about to fall in on itself. And it does...

    But not until after our heroines will find themselves and those poor scared kids back outside in the 'real' world, but who's really to say what's real and what isn't?

    The kids huddle together, terrified and confused. But where is ... John?

    A beat, two, three, four... where the hell is John?!

    "Ahhhh, bloody HELL!" from a nearby tree right before the sound of a branch snapping echoes in the darkness and that's right before a soft *thud* and a soft... "Nnnngggggg..." of a sound. GROAN!

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan's completely unsure of how this story is going to end, but she waits for Rien to do her thing. And there's a look to the demon that is unmasked. She lets out a giggle that would make any Imp or demon a little self conscious and then rushes past them to the children inside, "Alright little ones, come with us. We'll keep you safe." the Principal states. One minute they are there and the next they are outside.

Morrigan immediately starts assessing wounds or harm to the children, even as she hears John fall to the ground. "Does anything hurt?" she asks the kids.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna wipes the edge of an eye wet with blood. Something else's blood. She looks down at herself; the cloak is gone, she has returned to her sensible street clothes. But, she still has the wand. Clutching it in her hand, she glances at the others and then kneels beside the crying children.

"It's done. You're safe. You are really safe."

The Mage raises her head at the muffled curse from the woods, "Not in front of the children, John!" She gives the other women a brilliant smile.

"I'll remember you the next time there is a demon to quell, Rien! Thank you, Morrigan."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Looking around, Rien retracts her claws as there appears to be no further need for them at the moment. Since the other two are already dealing with the children and she is literally covered with gore, she decides looking for John wouldn't be a terrible thing and heads in the direction the groaning is coming from.

"Feel free to do so, demons are my specialty. I mean, I'm a fully trained sorceress, but they're my main focus. I try to look into any magical issues, which is why I showed up here." She makes her way into the trees, following the sounds of fallen magician.

John Constantine has posed:
    Said fallen magician is at least sitting up when Rien finds him. The result of his own fight in there is only visible in the exhaustion in his eyes.

    John's just sat there like he has no intention to move any time soon. His legs are bent, arms on his knees and a flask dangles between the index finger and middle finger of his right hand by its neck, the cap secured by a little chain or he'd always be losing that sucker.

    He looks up with Rien approaches and comments, "Luv, a sorceress is *never* fully trained." ...and it's the truth of the matter, magic is an ancient and ever changing endeavor, a thing he knows to be true.

    "Bugger off, Z, they probably hear worse watchin' Sponge Bob!"

Morrigan MacIntyre has posed:
Morrigan gives a dip of her head to Rien and Zatanna, "I'm always happy to help." she tells them. Then there's a bit of a look around, "We should probably get them to that search party. No idea what to tell them...but we'll figure something out." she admits. "Come on kids, just stay close and we'll get you home." she employs the teacher voice to help this along. Thankfully Rio has stayed out of sight for now.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien chuckles and pulls out a cigarette case from her belt pouch, lighting one with the same lighter she let John borrow. "Well, when I say fully trained, I more meant to the point that I was given the title and responsibility, not that I knew everything. That point never arrives, there's always new things to learn, as you said." Case and lighter return to the pouch, and she looks a bit sadly down at her clothing, "This is going to be a job to clean up. Seriously, did she have to explode them? I could have decapitated them or something." She shrugs.

John Constantine has posed:
    John pushes himself slowly, carefully to his feet. "What's this, luv? Makin' small talk? Maybe tryin' t'be friends? S'not in your best interest, I promise ya that." He takes a long pull from that flask, the stench of the scotch is strong with this one. When he lowers it he holds it up like he might be 'toasting' Rien. "Like I said, names Constantine, John Constantine. Things go bump in the night, I'm usually there. But It's time for me exit stage left."

    He nods his head, sort of a 'goodbye' thing and starts on back toward some semblance of civilization. He's only about twenty yards away before he mumbles something incoherent under his breath, a swirling portal opens in front of him. He steps through it.

    "Bullocks, ya bloody wretched pile of sticks!" echoes just as the portal closes. ... there's also a very brief flash of John, in the bathroom of an old house, one foot *in* the toilet. Seems the House is still pissed at him for something. But at least he found the loo?